"Chalker, Jack L - G.o.d. Inc. 2 - The Shadow Dancers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Chalker Jack L)

whole thing made me sick to my stomach, and Sam wasn't lookin' none too good,
neither. He sure wouldn't survive in this new world, and his parents woulda been
gassed. Thing was, a Bill Markham woulda come put pretty good unless he was one
of them patriotic principled types. With his name, looks, and background he
would probably be headin' up a storm trooper division at least.
"The Nazi-style culture is based on conflict, competition, and combat," he was
sayin'. "They've had a lot of tension with the Japanese over the years but no
real wars with them mostly because they just don't have enough people to manage
all the lands they have now. Eventually they'll go to war for the rest of the
world, but there is just no way the Germans and all those whom they've
conscripted can both hold their control and expand. Taking over a continent and
population this size was almost more than they could chew. When that kind of
thing happens to people like these, they start going at each other's throats.
Tiny putsches, minor coups, knocking off the local statenfuehrer and his boys
and replacing them with a new lot just as bad or worse. The Reich allows it,
since it bleeds off steam and there's a feeling that anybody who's sloppy enough
to get knocked off or overthrown deserved it-the strong replacing the weak. How
much power and strength you have is the sole measure of importance there after
racial background, and they can get pretty hazy on that if they need people."
"So he's trapped inside his own fortress, afraid of his own people," Sam noted.
"Some paradise."
"It's not as bad as all that. Probably no worse than guarding the President here
against nuts. But when he's at home and in control, he wants to make sure that
nothing happens to him and his, and, of course, we couldn't allow a station to
fall into the hands of somebody we didn't control. That's why we went along with
the mining and explosives part. As usual, our people set ourselves up as the
standard. If we can't crack it, then it's safe, and we did a good job here.
Trouble is, we never allowed for having to crack it ourselves. We can blow him
and the Labyrinth station to hell, of course, but that won't get us anywhere. We
need Vogel alive. He knows the results of the experiments. He knows the plot, at
least the outlines of it. He might know just about all of it."
"You're sure he's not the ringleader?" I asked him.
"No, he can't be. He's never had any experience outside Type Zero lines, and he
hasn't been involved with anybody who has. He's also a field man; he works
stations, not the Labyrinth. He wouldn't have the knowledge or ability to set
this off, although he's an important man in making it work."
"You think this is actually the competition, or is it maybe either an attempt by
some Type One culture to take over down here?" Sam asked him. "Or, could it be
some internal plot among the bigwigs of the company for control?" The
'competition' is what Company types liked to call anybody not workin' in their
best interests.
Markham shrugged. "Who knows? Whoever this is is certainly in league with the
competition. Vogel may know. That's why we need him so badly."
I shifted in my chair. "Look, Bill, I see this puzzle of yours and it's kinda
interestin', but what's it hav'ta do with us?"
"I was getting to that. I've described to you how it's impossible to make an
unobserved entry to Vogel's lair. Even inside the manor house, there's TV
cameras, hidden monitors, you name it, and security all over the place.
There's only one place where the snatch could be put on Vogel, and that's a
medium-sized room that's dead center of the second floor of the house. It's