"Sean Williams - The Perfect Gun" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williams Sean)

across the street. I lost it almost immediately, and crawled cautiously away
from where I had last seen it.
It was, of course, my invisible opponent.
"Whoever you are," I said, trying to sound more confident than I actually
felt, "you'd better have a damn good reason for using a cloak."
Someone laughed out of thin air, startlingly close. A gloved hand grabbed the
back of my collar and hauled me to my feet. Before I could twist and grab my
assailant, another shove sent me face-down into the dirt.
 "Or else?" asked the voice.
I crawled towards the fallen revolver, but unseen hands swept it away, into
the air. It hovered at waist-height, pointed in my direction.
"All right, that's enough." I stopped struggling, out of options. "If you want
to fight dirty, I give in."
"Sensible." The chirruping of the Hess machines had ceased again. The only
sounds on the roof were our voices and the distant rumble of engines from the
street below. My eyes followed the floating gun as though tied to the barrel
by invisible string.
"So now what?"
"We talk." The air behind the gun darkened, blurred, and became a man. His
cloak, now dormant, looked like a matte-grey jumpsuit, complete with hood. Not
one inch of him was exposed, but I could tell just from the smell of him that
he was from outside C20. The smell, and the cloak itself.
"Go on, then. Talk."
"Wallace Derringer died of suicide," said my assailant. His voice was soft,
but deep. He should have been doing voice-overs. "That's all you need to
know."
"Oh? And why's that?"
"Because I say so."
"I see." I frowned deeply, as though seriously considering the possibility
that I might abandon the case. "And what if I don't believe you?"
"You will." The masked man paused for effect. "We have the woman."
"What woman?"
"Marilyn Delibes."
I froze. "You're lying, pal," I bluffed.
"We traced her calls after she accessed the genome records, and monitored her
conversations. When she transmitted the genome to you, we moved."
"I don't believe you."
The man chuckled again. "Is that so, 'cheerful'?"
I sagged back onto the shallow earth. Unarmed, I had no chance of overpowering
a man in a light-cloak; even if his intentions weren't to kill me in cold
blood, all he had to do was switch the device back on and I would be at his
mercy again. And the problem of Marilyn still remained. I don't play the sap
for anyone, but the thought of her coming to harm as a result of my work made
my stomach sink.
Something nudged my left arm. I glanced down in surprise, then realised it was
only one of the Hess machines, wandering across the dirt along its nowhere
path. Its plastic casing, as wide across as my fist, rotated as it tried to
negotiate the obstacle of my body; its stereoscopic 'ears' swivelled from side
to side in confusion. I felt a strong sympathy for the poor creature, machine
though it was; lost, confused, and out of its depth; we had a lot in common.