"Arcady And Boris Strugatsky. Prisoners of Power" - читать интересную книгу автора

Disappears God knows where, no news for two months, then pops up like a
jack-in-the-box. No, I'll have to do something about that man. We can't go
on this way. I wonder what he wants from me? I wonder what's happened in
those two months? Crafty was dumped. But I doubt that he was involved. True,
he hated Crafty. But he hates everyone. Nothing has happened here that would
concern him, and he certainly wouldn't come to see me about such nonsense.
He'd go directly to Chancellor or Baron. Maybe he's run into something
interesting and wants to make a deal? God forbid! If I were in his place, I
wouldn't make any deals with anyone. Maybe he's coming about the trial? No,
the trial has nothing to do with it. Why speculate? I'll just play it by
ear."
Sliding out his secret drawer, he activated all the tape recorders and
hidden cameras. "We'll preserve this scene for posterity. Well, Strannik,
where the hell are you?" His nerves started to act up in anticipation of his
visitor. To calm himself, he tossed more fruit into his mouth, chewed
slowly, closed his eyes, and began to count. As he reached seven hundred,
the door opened.
There he was. That gangling, insolent cynic. Pushing the assistant
aside, he strode into the room. Strannik, the Creators' fair-haired boy.
Despised and adored, he had managed to stay on top. The prosecutor rose to
meet his visitor, around-shouldered man with round green eyes and a head as
bald as an egg. He was wearing the same ridiculous jacket he always wore. A
sorcerer, ruler of destinies, devourer of billions. With him you went
straight to the point. No mincing of words.
"Greetings, Strannik. Come to tell me of your triumphs?"
"What triumphs?" Strannik dropped into a chair that forced him to draw
up his knees awkwardly. "Massaraksh, I always forget about this diabolical
device of yours. When will you stop insulting your visitors?"
"A visitor should be uncomfortable and should feel ridiculous.
Otherwise these sessions can be very dull. For example, the sight of you
right now really cheers me up."
"Ah, yes, I know; you have such a sunny personality. Only your sense of
humor is not very exacting. By the way, why not make yourself comfortable?
Have a seat."
The prosecutor realized that he was still standing and that, as usual,
Strannik had evened the score quickly. The prosecutor sat down, settled
himself comfortably, and sipped some mineral water.
"Well?" he said.
Strannik came right to the point.
"You have a man I need. By the name of Mac Sim. You had him sent off
for reeducation. Remember?"
"No, I don't." The prosecutor was sincere, but somewhat disappointed.
"When did I send him? What for?"
"Recently. For blowing up the tower."
"Ah, yes, I remember the case. Well, what about it?"
"That's all there is to it. I need him."
"Just a minute." The prosecutor was annoyed. "Someone else tried the
case. You can't expect me to remember every convict."
"I thought they were all your people."
"Only one of mine was there. The rest were genuine. What did you say