"Kate Wilhelm - Baby, You Were Great" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilhelm Kate)

changing. Where's the camera, Anne? Do you ever know where it is any more? Have you even seen a
camera in the past couple of weeks, or a recorder of any sort? You have not, and you won't again. You're
on now, honey." His voice was quite low, amused almost. "In fact the only time you aren't on is when
you're sleeping. I know you're in love; I know who he is; I know how he makes you feel; I even know
how much money he makes per week. I should know, Anne baby. I pay him." He had come closer to her
with each word, finishing with his face only inches from hers. He didn't have a chance to duck the
flashing slap that jerked his head around, and before either of them realized it, he had hit her back. Anne
fell back to the chair, too stunned to speak for a moment.

The silence grew, became something ugly and heavy, as if words were being born and dying without
utterance because they were too brutal for the human spirit to bear. There was a spot of blood on Herb's
mouth where her diamond ring had cut him. He touched it and looked at his finger. "It's all being taped
now, honey, even this," he said. He returned to the bar, turning his back on her.

There was a large red print on her cheek. Her gray eyes had turned black with rage; she didn't take her
gaze from him.

"Honey, relax," Herb said after a moment, his voice soft and easy again. "It won't make any difference to
you in what you do, or anything like that. You know we can't use most of the stuff, but it gives the
editors a bigger variety to pick from. It was getting to the point where most of the interesting stuff was
going on after you were off. Like buying the gun. That's great stuff there, baby. You weren't blanketing a
single thing, and it'll all come through like pure gold." He finished mixing his drink, tasted it, and then
swallowed most of it. "How many women have to go out and buy a gun to protect themselves? Think of
them all, feeling that gun, feeling the things you felt when you picked it up, looked at it тАж"

"How long have you been tuning in all the time?" she asked. John felt a stirring along his spine, a tingle
of excitement. He knew what was going out over the miniature transmitter, the rising crests of emotion
she was feeling. Only a trace of them showed on her smooth face, but the raging interior torment was
being recorded faithfully. Her quiet voice and quiet body were lies; only the tapes never lied.



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Herb felt it too, a storm behind her quietude. He put his glass down and went to her, kneeling by the
chair, taking her hand in both of his. "Anne, please, don't be that angry with me. I was desperate for new
material. When Johnny got this last wrinkle out, and we knew we could record around the clock, we had
to try it, and it wouldn't have been any good if you had known. That's no way to test anything. You knew
we were planting the transmitter тАж"

"How long?"

"Not quite a month."

"And Stuart? He's one of your men? He is transmitting also? You hired him to тАж to make love to me? Is
that right?"

Herb nodded. She pulled her hand free and averted her face, not willing to see him any longer. He got up
then and went to the window. "But what difference does it make?" he shouted. "If I introduced the two