"Destroyer 036 - Power Play.pdb" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williams Remo)

"I don't know," Remo said. "They do some strange things."
"If they wanted to harass somebody, they could surely find a better target than Wesley," she said.
"They've got enough people to harass everybody," Remo said.
Downstairs, the hymn-singing had changed to chanting:
ONE, TWO, DOSEY-DO,
PRUISS IS GONE
AND GROSS MUST GO.
"That's enough of them," Theodosia said. "I'm calling the police."
"Don't bother," said Remo. "I'll shoo them."
Remo went downstairs and waited on the front steps for Rev. Higbe Muckley to make the circuit of the country club building.
"Nice sign, mama," he said to an old woman who walked by, carrying a placard that read: "We will not be bought off by a mess of tax pottage."
"You think so?" she asked, her bitter lined face lighting up.
"Best one yet," Remo said.
"Think it'll make that Pruiss go home? Back to New York where he belongs?" she asked.
"No," Remo said. "Of course not. Signs never do anything except get you on television."
"Oh my, television." Her hand moved to smooth her hair.
"Absolutely," Remo said. "You're a shoo-in for it."
"You're one of them, aren't you," the woman asked Remo. She nodded toward the house.
"Guess so."
"Well, you probably can't help it, being Italian and all," the woman said.
"Nice talking to you, mother," Remo said as he saw Reverend Muckley come around the far corner of the building, moving his hands as if an orchestra leader, conducting the chants. He was a big man and he ambled along and Remo thought all he needed was a beard and top hat to look like Abraham Lincoln.
Remo fell in alongside him as he passed the steps.
"Good to welcome you here, son," Muckley said. "Where's your sign?"
"I don't have one," Remo said. "Look. There's a man sick upstairs. Whether you like him or not, he's sick. Now why don't you go away and give him a chance to heal up?"
"An angel of the devil," Muckley said. "Sent to visit evil upon us. It is God's will that he be ill and God's will that we be here, the hosts of the Lord, to guard against him." His voice was impassioned but Remo saw there was no fire in Muckley's eyes. He was just reciting from memory, probably something he'd recited hundreds of times before.
"I'm glad we had this little chance to talk," Remo said. He grabbed Muckley's right hand and pinched the flesh between his index and middle fingers. "Sure I can't convince you?"
Muckley winced. "Of course, there is a time and place for Christian charity. Even to those who offend us."
"Right," Remo said. "Sort of turn the other cheek."
"Correct," Muckley said. Remo was leading him away from the house now, back toward the narrow street. As if they were mountain climbers, attached to their leader by lifelines, the forty pickets followed him.
Remo kept pressing the flesh between Muckley's fingers.
"Go away now, Reverend."
"Yes. I understand your point of view."
"I thought you might," Remo said.
"Folks, we've done what we can here," Muckley called out.
There was a groan from the crowd. The old woman shouted, "The television ain't arrived yet."
"Now we should all go back to our homes and pray for this evil man," Muckley said.
"Let's set the house afire," someone else called.
"No, no, no," Muckley yelled. "Christian love will conquer all. Our prayers are the only flames we need. They will light the fire of decency, even in such a cold heart as Westport Prune's."
"Good going." Remo said.
"You going to be here tomorrow?" Muckley asked.
"Every day," Remo said.
"All right," Muckley said. "But no more with the hand, huh?"
"If you behave," Remo said.
He let Muckley's hand go and the tall minister walked off down the road, followed by the straggling line of disappointed picketers.

CHAPTER SIX
The first solar heating equipment arrived early that evening at Furlong County Airport, a paved area that looked like a Grand Union parking lot, three miles from the country club.
Because he had decided to go ahead with the solar program at the urging of Rachmed Baya Bam, Pruiss had insisted the Indian accompany them to the airport to inspect the arrival.
Pruiss rode in the back of an ambulance commandeered from the Furlong County General Hospital for the occasion, and Rachmed Baya Bam helped roll him down the ramps in his wheel chair.
Four ten-foot-high piles of solar panels had arrived aboard a transport plane and now sat on lifts near the far edge of the runway. The hangar floodlights had been turned on to illuminate the black Plexiglass collectors.