"Альфред Бестер. The Flowered Thundermug (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

"A national government couldn't afford all of them," Muni
replied. "However, let me think...." He leaned back in his
chair and squinted at the ceiling, hardly aware that the Little
Group of Powerful Art Dealers was watching him intently. After
much face-contorting concentration, Muni opened his eyes and
looked around. "Well? Well?" Horton demanded anxiously.

"I've been visualizing those treasures in one room," Muni
said. "They go remarkably well together. In fact they would
make one of the most impressive and beautiful rooms in the
world. If one were to walk into such a room, one would
immediately want to know who the genius was who decorated it."

"Then . . . ?"

"Yes. I would say this was the taste of one man."

"Aha! Then your guess was right, Greta. We are dealing with
a lone shark."

"No, no, no. It's impossible." Horton hurled his B&B glass
into the fire, and then flinched at the crash. "It can't be a
lone shark. It must be many men, all kinds, operating
independently. I tell you-"

"My dear Horton, pour yourself another drink and calm
yourself. You are only confusing the good doctor. Professor
Muni, I told you that the items on that list exist. They do.
But I did not tell you that we don't know where they are at
present. We do not for a very good reason; they have all been
stolen."

"No! I can't believe it."

"But yes, plus perhaps a dozen more rarities, which we have
not bothered to itemize because they are rather minor."

"Surely this was not a single, comprehensive collection of
Americana. I would have been aware of its existence."

"No. Such a single collection never was and never will be."

"Ve vould not permit it," Miss Garbo said.

"Then how were they stolen? Where?"

"By crooks," Horton exclaimed, waving the Brandy & Banana
decanter. "By dozens of different thieves. It can't be one
man's work."