"Arcady And Boris Strugatsky. Prisoners of Power" - читать интересную книгу автораare rather odd. Where were these taken? On the defendants' bench. Well, look
at that! Fresh and fit, cheerful, clear-eyed, relaxed. Where did you learn such poise? Such posture? That defendants' bench is no more comfortable than the visitor's chair in my office; impossible to relax on it. But all this is trivial. There's got to be something bigger here." The prosecutor left his desk and paced the floor. Something tantalizing tickled his brain, something prodded and excited him. "Damn it, I've stumbled on something in that folder. Something important, something very, very important. Fank? Yes, that's important because Strannik uses Fank only for the most important matters. But Fank just confirms my intuition. Now, what is the essential thing here? The pants? Nonsense. Ah, I know what it is. But it's not in the folder." He switched on the intercom. "Kokh, give me the details of the attack on the convoy." "Fourteen days ago," began his assistant's rustling voice, as if he were reading from a prepared text, "at eighteen hours and thirty-three minutes, an armed attack was made on police cars transporting defendants in Case Six-nine-eight-one-eight-four from the courtroom to the city jail. The attack was repulsed, and one of the attackers was badly wounded in the crossfire and never regained consciousness. The body was not identified. The investigation has been closed." "Whose work was this attack?" "That has not been clarified, Your Honor. The official underground had nothing to do with it." "Any ideas?" "It could have been the work of terrorists attempting to free defendant wing." The prosecutor slammed down the receiver. Maybe it was true, and maybe it wasn't. Well, we'll go through the folder again. Southern border, idiot captain. Trousers. Escapes, carrying man on shoulders. Radioactive fish - seventy-seven units. Reaction to A-radiation. Chemical treatment of ganglions. Wait! Reaction to A-radiation: "Zero reaction to A-radiation in both senses." Zero, in both senses. The prosecutor pressed his hand to his chest. Idiot! Zero in both senses! Zero in both senses! He grabbed the receiver again. "Kokh! Prepare a special messenger and security guard at once. A private train to the south. No! Use my electric truck. Massaraksh!" He thrust his hand into a drawer and switched off all the recording devices. "Make it snappy!" Still pressing his left hand to his chest, he took out a personal order form from the desk and wrote rapidly but carefully: "State business. Top secret. To the Commanding General of the Special Southern District. You are personally responsible for the immediate execution of this order. Transfer to the custody of the bearer, convict Mac Sim, Case 6983. From the moment of transfer, consider rehab Mac Sim missing, and retain appropriate supportive documentation in your files. By order of the State Prosecutor." He grabbed another form: "Order. I hereby order all personnel in the military, civil, and railroad administrations to render assistance to the bearer of this order, the State Prosecutor's special courier and security |
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