"Duncan, Dave - Strings" - читать интересную книгу автора (Duncan Dave)

Now and then hef pacing would take her past a mirror, and she would pause to inspect her appearance. She was very pleased with her new face. She did not look a dav over twentv, and the sCar,@ had all vone now, except for a co@ple inside h'er mouth,
which she could barely feel with her tongue. Even those were fading.
The creep Wilkins had demanded ten million hectos. In official terms, that was exactly one billion dollars. Of course, a billion was not what it used to be, but even a media giant like WSHB could not throw that kind of change around lightly. Although Pandora had a hefty slush fund to call on, hefty was not omnipotent. Approval for expenditure on that scale had to come from higher up, and that meant politics. Frazer Franklin had friends who wanted him to get all the breaks, of course, old has-been though he was-Pandora almost laughed aloud every time she saw that scalp transplant of his. It was going to be as bald as its predecessor in another month or two.
So she had been ramming through an emergency appropriation at the same time as she had been trying to confirm the story and also out-circle the office sharks. Even securing the data was proving to be tricky. She had told Wilkins that he would have to transmit the evidence to her on approval, and he had laughed in her new face-quite rightly so, of course. Getting more serious then, she had suggested that he forget his job, hop the lev, and nip down to Nauc with the coin. He had laughed even harder at that, claiming that then he would be cut up instead of cut out. He might have had a point there-WSHB's accountants would go a
long way to save ten million hectos.
And she had no reliable rats in Cainsville. She doubted that anyone else did, either. Rats did not survive long in the Institute. They just vanished. So, even, did moles. Merely sending a man up there to contact Wilkins had required a good excuse, which had taken time to find. But ten million hectos needed verification of product.
And time was precious. If 4-1 made an announcement first, then Pandora's scoop would be dead as the Ides of March.
Of course, the Institute had its own time problems, which was
why it had made no announcement yet. The missing explorers had been transmensed to Nile on April first, appropriately. They had planned to overnight until the next window, on the fifth, That was when they had come back dead. Today was the seventh aiready, and the next window must be due on the ninth, or thereabouts.
She was certain that the Institute would prefer not to issue a statement until it had collected a lot more data, probably not until it had overnighted another team, and that meant the thirteenth at the earliest, if the period was exactly four days, Before then, 4-1
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would make nothing public-unless it learned about the leak. In that case it would move at once to preempt her and publish its own version.
Pure luck had put Pandora within reach of Wilkins's call, WSHB had a thousand such moles spotted around the world. Nine-tenths of them would never turn up as much as a borscht recipe in their lives, but once in a while a code would twitch in as a mole suddenly decided to rat. Then System would alert the senior news exec within reach. Normally that would have been Frazer Thin-on-top Frankie, but just by chance old F.F. had been interviewing a would-be starlet that afternoon, and the interview had already progressed to the point where EE had not been accepting calls. Thus Destiny had laid her hand on Pandora's shoulder instead. Poor Frankie had apparently had a disappointing day all around-he had not even given the lad a training contract. He played dirty even with kids.
So pure luck had taken a hand, but so had virtue, because Pandora's section had been working on an Institute story for months. She had ample background ready to go. The media all took shots at 4-1 quite regularly, of course, and had done so for years. Old Mother Hubbard always survived somehow, but now she was at the end of her string. There was no doubt that China was about to recognize the World Chamber. China was still the largest nation-state, the only one of any real size whose government ad not collapsed into impotency under its debt load.
If China backed the Chamber, then the long fight would be over, and the U.N. would cease to exist at all. The Institute operated on a United Nations charter, and Hubbard herself was a long-time political crony of Hastings, the S.G. In fact they had been paired once. He had pulled strings to win her appointment as director, and a few years later she had done the same for him. In their case, bedfellows had made very effective politics.
It was all very profound. It rneant that Hubbard was going down the sewer very soon, and WSHB was certainly prepared to help all it could. Curiously, this Cave Men in Space story might be enough all by itself. It might even reverse the expected flow of events: Old Mother Hubbard would fall, dragging down Hastings and the U.N. with her, and China would move even faster to throw its weight behind the Chamber. Speaker Cheung would certainly call a world election to confirm his hegemony, It was all very strong stuff, and sweet little Eccles Pandora was going to be a prime mover.
Klaus had called from Cainsville just after midnight. He had
contacted Wilkins. He had viewed the coin. And yes, it was everything that Wilkins had promised. Anything could be a fake, of course, but Deputy Director Devlin had been reeling around having apoplectic fits, his language on the subject of incompetence being hot enough to melt the rest of the polar ice caps. That alone, Klaus had suggested, might be worth a lot of money.
Klaus had a good reputation in WSHB. Armed with his report, Pandora had bearded the senior lions, rousing them from their beds-or others' beds in a few cases-until she had her approval. Ten million hectobucks had flowed electronically from one account to another, then another and another, destined to rest at last in one belonging to Wilkins Jules Smuts.
But what was Klaus doing now? Hours had gone by. Had the Institute's goons discovered the plot? Had Wilkins panicked and pulled out, or perhaps raised his price? Pandora's pacing grew faster, although she was bone weary. She began to spend less time on planning and more on just worrying. Her old, old bunion operation began to complaim, and she promised herself new feet if this deal worked out.
Ping! said the corn. "Secured message, code Honeysuckle Thunderbolt."
Klaus at last! Pandora made one more quick check that her hair was in place and had not turned white. "Code Naples Octave, accept and record. "
The panel became a window into a gubby little cubicle,, with solid, scruffy, dependable little Kuhik- Klaus sitting in it. She wanted to give him a hug. She might just give him more than that when he got back. He was smiling broadl@, and holding up a coin. "What kept you?" she demanded.
He pulled a face. "Our friend had started celebrating already." "You had to dry him out?" "Cool him down. He's a plugin freak." Ugh! Pandora prided herself on being broad-minded, but there were a few vices she preferred not to think about. "But the deal*s made now, the money spent. So I have a question, sweet lady. Do you still want me to bring this to you, or do you need it zapped?"
Now there was an almost irresistible temptation. Klaus could transmit the entire coin in compressed format to Nauc, and the evidence would be in Pandora's hands within seconds, U11fortunately, that way was risky. Their override codes would mask conversations-or so she certainly hoped-but a data transmission needed higher bands, and the legendary 4-1 Security would cer-
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tainly be alert for any attempt to zap data out of Cainsville. Its monitors would detect the sending, and very Uely could do so in time to block it.
There was one entrance to Cainsville, so it was said, and a million exits. Wilkins and Klaus might find themselves on Nile, being thumped with stone axes like the previous explorers, or perhaps somewhere even nastier, breathing the unbreathable. Pandora did not care a fig what happened to Wilkins, but she rather enjoyed Klaus once in a while. More important, she wanted that evidence intact. "Bring it!"
He nodded in obvious relief and vanished before she could change her mind.
Finally Pandora could relax. The deed was done, the booty on its way, and dawn breaking. Today was going to be busy but joyful. The viewing, cutting, editing, blocking-and above all, the rescheduling. She would be co-copting everyone down to the garage flunkies, graciously acknowledging congratulations from members of the board, bumping Furless Frankie right off prime time ...
Oh, bliss! She decided that for once Eccles Pandora Pendor might just eat a hot breakfast, and damn the diet. She headed for the bedroom to freshen up and change. "Call from Dr. Frazer Franklin," the corn announced.
Pandora stopped with one foot in the air. What could possibly be inspiring EE to be awake at this time of day?
Worry? And why would he be calling her? Could it be a surrender? The white flag? She could think of nothing that he could have left to lay on the table. By tomorrow she would be the unquestioned queen of WSHB News. Frankie was going to be back doing cook shows. She would pick up a Pulitzer and the Nobel Prize for Espionage and crush his skull between them.
On the other hand ... On the other hand the timing was suspicious as hell. The codes would have kept the Institute out, but of course Razy-Frazy Frankie had friends in high places in WSHB. He might have been monitoring her corn all night. So he called her now, right after Klaus did?
Pandora backed up, made one more check of that adorable reflection, and said, "Accept!"
And right behind the window was the famous elm desk, in the
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exact center of Frankie's opulent and garishly overdecorated office. Behind, --he famous desk was the famous face. Des-nite the barbarous hour, he was as smartly dressed as always, freshly shaved and dargerously confident. The deep tan was likely newly
ps was the trace of scarring on the touched-up, wid so perha, cheekbones, the mark of tile manly type who spends too much time outdoors. F.F. never went outdoors. His blond hair was most artfullv coifiFured-of course. Leaning expensive sleeves forward, he was wearing Grave Concern, one of his most effective expressions, normally rcserved for minor flooding, or discouraging n,-,ws on the latest disease. "Good. mornip.2, Papda dearie." He knew how she detested that name,
She regiswr,-d Bright Aniusement. "Hello, Frank. You're up early. Bladder trouble again"" "Well, I'm a little concerned. [lave you completed those negotiations you were fretting about?" He had switched to Polite Interest Orily, but he knew the answer. He even knew she knew he knew the answer. "Oh, those?" She shrugged a Little Importance. "Yes, all done. " "Ah." He conveyed Trace of Regret. "How soon would you be able to actually use any of the stuff?"
Pandora fanned through a dozen scenarios in her mind. She could not quite discount the possibility that FE or someone in his faction might try to intercept Klaus. It would be treason, of course, but internal gut-spilling could sometimes be earned beyond proper limits. Sorne th-ings should not be done inside the corporate farnilv, but sometimes some things were.
So don't answer the question. "Oh, we'll have to decide that at the conferences later today, I'm sure 1 can count on your cooperation. . @"
He raised an exquisitely manicured hand. "But the deal is complete' 'i The money is gone? It's too late to back out now?-
Pandora felt the ice o@terror meet the fire of fury, and did not know which one. was going to win- It was like having dangerous revelations emerge during a live interview. Automatically she as-
sumed a Mild Distaste. "What are vou 2ettimz at, Frankie?"