"Arcady And Boris Strugatsky. Prisoners of Power" - читать интересную книгу автораthe table. Suddenly she went limp and began to cry. They watched her cry for
some time. Then the brigadier rose and sentenced her to death, the sentence to be carried out within forty-eight hours. Pandi took her by the arm and pushed her through the door. The civilian rubbed his hands, smiled, and said: "That was luck. Fine escorts." The brigadier replied: "Thank the captain." Captain Chachu said only: "Ssh." Everyone fell silent. The adjutant summoned Memo Gramenu and skipped the usual formalities because it was a clear-cut case. When he was placed under arrest he had shown armed resistance. They did not bother to interrogate him. While the brigadier read the death sentence, he looked at the ceiling indifferently, nursing his injured right hand with his left. The dislocated fingers were bound with a rag. Maxim could not understand the prisoner's unnatural calm and his cold indifference to the proceedings. Gramenu was being led out when the adjutant, with a sigh of relief, gathered the papers into his folder, and the brigadier started a conversation with the civilian about the promotion system. Captain Chachu went over to Pandi and Maxim and ordered them to leave. Although Maxim clearly saw a threat in his transparent eyes, he was too preoccupied to care. He wondered about the man who would have to execute the woman. Impossible! But someone would have to do the job in the next forty-eight hours. 8. Guy pulled on his pajamas, hung up his uniform, and turned to Maxim. corner for him. One boot was off and he had started on the other. His eyes were turned to the wall. Guy crept up to him from the side and tried to jab him playfully. As usual, he missed his mark: Mac jerked his head back just in time. "What's on your mind?" asked Guy playfully. "Pining for Rada? You're out of luck, brother; she's on the night shift today." Mac smiled weakly and started on the other boot. "Why out of luck?" he said absentmindedly. "Guy, I know you wouldn't lie to me." He stopped tugging. "You're always saying they get paid for their work." "Who? The degens?" "Right. You've talked about it a lot, to me and the men. Paid agents of the Khontis, you said. And the captain gives us the same story every day." "What else is there to say about them?" Oh, God, there goes Mac again with one of his boring conversations. "You're really a funny guy, Mac. Nothing's changed with them, so there's nothing new to say. Degens have always been degens, and that's the way it is now. They've always received money from our enemies. They do it now, too. For example, just last year, a group of them were caught red-handed with a cellarful of dough. How could an honest man have that much money? They weren't bankers." Mac set his boots neatly by the wall, rose, and began unbuttoning his jump suit. "Guy," he said, "There's something I don't understand about you people. You're told something about a person, but when you look at him, you know it |
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