"Dickson, Gordon - Stranger Txt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dickson Gordon R)

"I'm sorry. I don't have any Avaiiables or Merlin Swenson on my list to accept."

"Well then, just forget it, man. Forget it!" barked the clerk. "You people called here. If you don't want to talk to us. we sure don't want to talk to you!"

"Are you Merlin Swenson?" asked the young face. "If you're Merlin..."

"Me? Merlin Swenson? You people must think a tot of yourselves. Merlin Swenson doesn't answer any outfit that calls and leaves word for him to call back. Let me talk to whoever called him, and I'll decide whether it's something to bother Merlin Swenson about."

"Just a minute," said the face, "let me check with..."

"Never mind. Forget it!" shouted the clerk, and warded off Merlin with one hand. "I've wasted enough time with you already, and all you've done is stall..."

"Wait. Wait just a minute," said the other. "I think it was Maria Balsom who wanted to talk to Merlin Swenson. Just a minute..."

The screen went blank for a moment, then the face of the woman Merlin had spoken with before at the agency came on the screen.

"Hello? Mr. Swenson?" Her face was puzzled.

"One moment," said the clerk, He slid out of the seat and Merlin replaced him.

"I don't understand, Mr. Swenson," said Maria Balsom, "we don't accept collect calls from clients who owe us money..."

"Have you found her?" The words burst from Merlin.

"Of course. That's what we called you about. Then we had a message to find you at this number, so we called and left word for you to call us. But you were not being invited to call us collect. As I say, we don't accept calls from..."

"Where is she?"

"Really, Mr. Swenson. You don't expect this agency to furnish information before it's paid? You've got a balance outstanding of fifteen thousand, four hundred and eighteen dollars and twelve cents. If you'll make your payment to us in that amount..."

"But that's why I had to talk to you," Merlin said quickly. "You see, just for the next week or so, there's been a little hitch. There was a crazy mix-up in my computer records, and until it's cleared up, they're holding up my ability to get advances of the kind I've been paying with. It's just a temporary thing because they're understaffed in the records section, but it'll hold things up for a couple of weeks. But I have to make a decision about housing my wife while I'm in orbit, and I need to talk to her about this right away. So I thought if you could just let me know what you've turned up so far—after all, I have paid you over thirty thousand dollars already..."

"Mr. Swenson..." Maria Balsom's voice had stepped far back from him. "Are you telling me that you're not connected with Trans-Space any longer?"

"Yes and no. The point is, I can't pay your bill right now, but if you'll wait ^.."

"Of course." Maria Balsom's voice came now from a different world. "When you've got what you owe us, Mr. Swenson, send us a credit voucher, and we'll be glad to give you the full results of our investigations."

"Don't you understand..." Merlin began.

"I understand perfectly, Mr. Swenson. Do you?" said the woman, grimly. "Like everyone else in this business I live on my commissions from accounts collected!"

She broke the connection.

"Well, there you are," said the clerk. He slapped Merlin on the shoulder. "Come on out and I'll find you a job with some overtime."

Merlin shook him off. He stalked out of the office, out through the half-door, past the other day-laborers still lined up at the counter, staring at him, and out of the building.

The heat of the day was stifling as he hurried away from The Availables office. He paid no attention to where he was going until he felt grass beneath his feet and looked around at Almsbury Park.