"William C. Dietz - By Force of Arms" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dietz William)One individual came close, however, and his name was
Neptune Small. The fact that he weighed approximately 350 pounds was an irony of which he was well aware, and no one chose to joke about. No one who wanted to live. Small's offices were located over one of the restaurants he owned, which was rather convenient, since he consid- ered it his duty to sample the establishment's wares at least four times a day. So that's where he was, sitting at his favorite table, when a functionary named Hos McGurk left the city's di- lapidated corn center, ignored the pouring-down rain, and ran the three blocks to the aptly named Rimmer's Rest. He could have called, could have asked for Small, but the businessman didn't like corn calls. He preferred to deal with people face to face, where he could see their fear, and smell their sweat. McGurk pushed the doors open, ignored the robotic hostess, and headed for the back. All sorts of junk had been nailed, wired, screwed, or in at least one case welded to the walls. There were nameplates taken off long- file:///D|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry/Desktop/William%20C.%20Dietz%20-%20By%20Force%20of%20ArmsUC.txt dismantled ships, a collection of alien hand tools, the shell from a five-hundred-pound land mollusk, a mummified hand that someone found floating in space, and a wanted poster that not only bore Small's somewhat thinner like- ness, but announced the possibility of a rather sizeable re- ward. Some of the clientele thought it was a joke—others weren't so sure. BY FORCE OF ARMS 11 McGurk had started to pant by the time he arrived in front of Small's table. The entrepreneur, as he liked to refer to himself, always wore immaculate black clothing, and affected a specially made cane- The handle resembled the head of an eagle and the shaft doubted as a single-shot energy weapon. It leaned against the table only inches from it owner's well-dimpled hand. Small dabbed his fat puffy lips, raised an eyebrow, and spoke in what amounted to a hoarse whisper. "Good afternoon, Hos—what brings you out on such a miserable day?" Thus encouraged McGurk began to babble. His eyes |
|
|