"Sean Williams - Metak Fatigue" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williams Sean)

what is it?" @'A very bad pun," said Morrow, looking pained. "I
a businessman, my dear, not a petty criminal. Ask Phil. just a smuggler with
connections, I swear." .,".Hoarding is still illegal," she protested. "It is,
yes, for the moment. These are desperate times.
4 do what I can to survive, and no more, until the day when I am no longer
considered to be a criminal."
1-1 @'@,On those charges only." @
n
40 all charges. I do not prey on the weak; only the stiong." IShe hesitated,
but her hand remained in her coat. "Phil?" "Trust me,' he repeated. "I'm not
bent, if that's what's worrying you." "Alas," rued the Head. "How true." "And
besides," Roads went on, "we couldn't arrest
him if we wanted to." "Why not?"
Morrow smiled. "Because I'm dead, my dear, that's why not. I died over fifty
years ago." "That's impossible -"
"'Impossible' is a ridiculous word." Morrow rolled his eyes. "You children of
the Dissolution are all the same. You have difficulty accepting the fact that
the present is not representative of the past. Many things that once could be
done cannot be done now. That is all, my dear."
Barney still floundered. "I don't understand." "No,," said Morrow. "And
therein lies the difference between us."
"I'll explain later," said Roads, leaning over the table to place a hand on
her arm. "We've got more important things to talk about at the moment."
Barney nodded dumbly, casting a What the hell have you got me into? look back
at him.
Their drinks arrived at that moment via a trapdoor in the rear of the cubicle.
Roads put his in one corner of the table, away from the flickering hologram.
Barney drank half of hers in one gulp.
Roads reached into a pocket, produced a cigarette and a lighter. He lit up and
took a deep, sour breath. "I need your help," he said to Morrow, getting down
to business. "I guessed as much." The Head rotated to face him. "How much do
you know?" "That you have a serious problem. I'm glad it's you and not me, no
offence." "Thanks. Are you going to help me?" "That depends. Are you going to
help me?" Morrow countered. "If I can." "How?" "I don't know. Put in a good
word, perhaps." "That won't be necessary. I have something more
concrete in mind." "Tell me." "First, the problem," said Morrow. "You've got a
thief to catch. And a killer too." "How much do you know?" "Enough. Since the
first of August, there have been thirty break-ins and eighteen political
assassinations within the city - all of them unsolved. The bulletin boards
think that both series of crimes were performed by one and the same person,
although RSD is treating
*t'as separate matters entirely. No-one has given the
a nickname yet, but the thief has been dubbed 'the
What little evidence you have in either case is
jo@oriclusive. In particular, the identikit pictures of the
are ... how do I put this? ... interesting. Motrow, smiled apologetically.
"You can't blame me for
been suspicious of you, at first."
don't." In the six weeks the Mole had been tin RSD had learned only one thing
about hi , 9 Im: -,he looked