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

For an instant Bagshaw seemed tempted to smile. "Naw, I just
like hassling you. Which is it to be-force or cooperation?"
Cedric shrugged. "Cooperation, I guess. But I wish you'd explain. . ." "You clean up, then, and I'll talk. Is this your month for shaving?"
Cedric squeezed between two of the percies and hobbled over to the basin. "I could call HQ and ask for confirmation that you're genuine."
Bagshaw made a scornful noise. "It happens to be five in the morning, and you have no priority codes. Security never answers questions, even about the weather. Those guys won't admit what day it is. You couldn't get through to Old Mother Hubbard in less than two hours at the best of times, and even then it would only be if you could prove your relationship." "I've called Gran dozens of-well, often."
Bagshaw sighed dramatically. "From Meadowdale -priority call. " "But if she's really worried about me," Cedric said with a feeling of triumph, "she'll have told System to admit my calls!" "I wouldn't let her." "You wouldn't?" "Breach of security. If she'd done that, then who knows who might have learned that we had a cannon loose? Pardon mepopgun loose. No, you can't call in. You can come willingly, or I take you by force. I don't care. You may, but I won't."
Still stroking his face with his shaver, Cedric peered around the percies. Bagshaw had seated himself in midair, as though there were an invisible chair under him. He looked quite relaxed and comfortable, so he must have locked his waldoes into position. "How did you get into this room?" "That's my job. I can get into a bank vault, given time, Hotel rooms? Took me half a minute, all three locks." "And you knew I was in here?" "Like I said. I tested for you with a gas detector-sucked some air from under the door and checked for human pheromones. Another half minute. Your exhalations are on file. They matched. Of course, you might have had a friend in here. with you, but I didn't give a damn about that, really. "
He made it all sound infuriatingly easy. Cedric dropped shaver and shorts and stepped toward the shower pad. "Water first"' Bagshaw snapped. "Hub?'
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"Turn on the water before you get under it. Always. Elementary precaution."
Growling, Cedric complied. "And what about my percy?" Bagshaw snorted. "That junk? Those rental jobs are all right for two-bit lawyers or their wives coming into town for the day-mostly because ro one cares about them except tin-pot muggers. Even them not much. No city resident would ever trust a rental; no one of any real importance."
So? Cedric was not of any real importance. He stepped under the shower, a fine, cold mist and, a suffocating odor of chlorine. The rotting rug around it suggested the electronics were not working too well. He knew about percies from seeing holo commercials. Most people owned a percy. Anyone really important had half a dozen-one to ride in, the others to run interference.
Damn, but his gut hurt! He wondered about the four percies that Bagshaw had brought with him-were there watchers inside those, staying silent? Was Bagshaw genuine? If he was, then why -go nasty? If not, then what use was all that extra equipment? None of that mattered much, Cedric decided. Having used up the last of his credit calling Madge, he had left himself with no options but to do as he was told. "That rental abortion probably has more pitches and patches on it than you could believe," Bagshaw remarked. "I turned it off before I even opened the door. I could have taken it over and made it break your neck instead. Never, ever, trust anyone else's percy!"
Cedric gave up hope that the water would run hot, or the soap ever produce a lather. Perhaps such things were luxuries that only places like Meadowdale could provide. He turned off the water and reached for the dryer. "Don't!" Bagshaw shouted. "Jeez, man! Those things are deadly!" "I've used one hundreds of-" "Easiest booby trap in the world!"
Cedric scowled back at the older man's glare. "All ri,-ht, how do I dry myself?" "With the bed sheets, dummy! You'll catch some bugs and funguses, of course, but we can treat most of those. You probably got them already, just sleeping there."
Not sure how much of that to believe, Cedric stalked across to the bed, feeling absurdly aware of his nudity as he did so. He hauled off a sheet. "Tell me about your friends," he said. He nodded at the percies.
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Bagshaw had pivoted to watch him. "Those? Just some girls I know." He laughed meanly. "Naw, they're empty. Backup equipment." "You run them?" "Sure." Bagshaw frowned, making odd wrinkles in his synthetic skin. "My job. I'm a pro, sonny. Remember, percies are only robots. That means computers. Computers have limitations. They're not good enough for the real enchiladas, the nobs, the big bumps on the world's ass-they have personal guards as well, real human beings who go everywhere with them, who open the doors and taste the soup and defuse the bombs and step in front of the bullets ... usually a team of two or three, taking shifts. They're known as bulls." "Short for pit bulls," Cedric said, to show he knew such things. "You're telling me you're a bull? You guard Gran?" "Nwm I'm not senior enough to be trusted with her. The Institute has five people who rank high enough for bulls-the old girl herself and the four horsemen ... deputy directors." "Five?" Cedric was impressed. "Five just in 4-IT' "Don't call it that! It's the Institute. Yes, five-right up there with the Secretary General, and the chairman of IBM, and the Speaker of the Chamber."
Cedric threw his bag on the bed and rummaged for clothes. "So why are you telling me this?" "Because from now on it's six. I'm your bull, buster." Half into his pants, Cedric tried to turn around and almost fell over. "Me? You're crazy! I don't rank a bodyguard!"
Bagshaw rose from his invisible chair. He stretched and yawned. "Yes, you do. Two of us-me and Giles Ted. In future, one or the other of us will be breathing on your neck and stepping on your toes twenty-four hours a day. Like your grandmother said, you'll obey orders. Ted or me'll be calling the shots, and you will do exactly as we tell you. With a little luck, we'll keep you alive, healthy, and sane. That'll be nice, won't it?"
Cedric could only assume that the man was serious. He did not look as though he were joking. He might be crazy, of course. "But I-I'm nothing! You said yourself-fresh from a foster home, wet behind the ears. Green as grass," "That's right, sonny. But you're grandson to the best hated woman in the world." "Gran? Hated?" "Get dressed!" "But who-"
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"Get dressed!" Bagshaw repeated. "I'll run you a list when we get back to HQ. It runs to ten or twelve pages: Earthfirsters and ecology freaks and pilgrim groups and half the cults on the globe; them that's scared the Institute will poison the planet, them that says it's doing too much, and them that says it ain't doing enough. People who want to disband it, and people who want to take it over. People who believe it really has discovered habitable worlds and is keeping them secret ... every type of nut there is."
Cedric's head emerged through the top of his poncho. "But what has this to do with me?"
Bagshaw rolled his eyes. "Ever heard of the Trojan horse? How do I know you haven't already been rewired so's you'll strangle the old lady as soon as you meet her?" "That's not possible!" "No?" Bagshaw somehow conveyed a shrug. "Well, not without a small amount of cooperation, it isn't, I guess."
Cedric stood on one leg to pull on a sock. "So!" "So? So, you say? How about the media, sonny? The media have more short-term power than anybody. Homogenize Old Mother Hubbard's grandson, and a thousand groups would try to claim credit. What you are is a bulletin standing by to interrupt normal programming."
Cedric found that his mouth was open again. He would have to watch that. "You are saying that ... people ... would kill me, just to spite Gran?" "Spite? Score off? Coerce? Turn? It wouldn't matter much to YUU, would it? You'd be dead-or worse-in a week. I promise you. Why do you think she put you in Meadowdale in the first place?"
Shoving feet into sneakers, Cedric thought of Glenda, who was Eccles Pandora's cousin, and Gavin. whose father was president of ITT- and suddenly understood. "Neutral ground' : " "Hey! Maybe you're not quite as simple as you look. Of course,, some of the real rabid groups wouldn't respect any sort of sanctuary-the Sierra Club, or such-but you were fair y sate there. Now you're in play, right? And the Institute has infinite money, so you're a potential kidnap. too. Ransom victims rarely earn pensions." Bagshaw was grinning grotesquely, enjoying Cedric's horror. "Your dear gran's got power, sonny, and anyone with power has enemies. She's got more than most. BEST for example." "BESTT' "Are you deaf? I thought you were just stupid. Hum, up and
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let's get the hell out of here. Yes, BEST. She's fought it off for years, and almost no one else has ever won a single round against BEST. This area happens to be BEST's turf. You didn't know that? There are hundreds of little power centers scattered around Nauc-some just local gang barons, others more important; even a few of the old legit governments still survive in places. There's even a mob down Blue Ridge way calls itself the Congress of the United States. Has a good militia."
To save his life, Cedric could not have told how much truth there was in that tirade.
And Bagshaw knew that. "But BEST's HQ is less than ten miles from here, so of course it's staked out its own territory all ,around. Now do you see? Sweet little Cedric with his feathers still wet flies out of the nest and perches right on the cats' litter box. If BEST knew you were here, you'd be in surgery already. Apparently it doesn't."
Cedric grunted and began stuffing things into his bag. His gut still hurt. "So just remember, sonny, that this ain't the Meadowdale Organage no more and- " "Organage? What's that mean? That's the third time---2'
Then the helmet that hung behind Bagshaw's bead uttered a quiet beep. In an instant he had nodded the helmet into place, leaving Cedric to stare blankly at its shiny exterior. The inside would contain vid displays, of course, and speakers.
Bagshaw emerged again, grim-faced. All trace of banter had vanished and there was only business showing. "We have company. Never mind all that stuff." He took two steps to one of the percies and opened it. "Have you got anything here that's valuable?" .'My camera." "Forget it. Anything that can't be replaced- souvenirs, personal sentimental ihing-ST, "Just my coins." Gran had given him that camera. . "Bring those, and leave the rest. They aren't worth running through decon. D4)n't leave any information, tiough. No letters, diaries?"
Feeling more bewildered than annoyed, Cedric shook his head. Clutching his small bag of personal recordings, be stepped backward into the percy. Bagshaw reached in and swiftly began making the adjustments for him-the saddle and the shin pads, the chest and head straps. He was making them tight, and he had n dt-,ft tntirh dp.-znito-. hiq m2-ivp annntle-,N,
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"Ouch!" Cedric muttered. His head felt as though it had just been set in concrete. The rental unit had not gripped nearly so hard. This one smelled much better-a clean, new, factory sort of smell. It was also larger. "Pull your chin in!" Bagshaw snarled, nimbly crushing Cedric's aching belly with heavy padding. "This model*s guaranteed to twenty-five meters. Know what that means?"
Cedric mumbled a negative as yet another strap immobilized his chin, wrenching his neck in the process. "It means you can drop about eight stories in it. I've tested one at twelve. Now, I'll be running things, so you just relax and enjoy the ride. Keep your hands at your sides."
Cedric's hands were almost the only thing he could move. at all below his eyelids. The curious half-sitting position was sur- prisingly comfortable, as he knew from the previous day's travels, and the new unit was a vastly better piece of machinery than the rental job that Bagshaw had scorned so much. It was even big enough for his freakish height. He had a good view through the front window, flanked by innumerable vids that he could see without moving his head, although few of their displays meant anything to him. He had a rear view through a mirror. A percy was a mobile coffin, a tomb with a view.
Eight stories? That was only halfway down. It was the second half that would hurt.
Bagshaw's voice spoke in his ear. "Hear me okay?" "Fine.I
The percies rose a few centimeters to lev position. They all tilted forward and began to move as a group for the door. Bagshaw was wearing only his bull suit, but his boots were off the floor also. He looked small and vulnerable between the five giant cylinders, as though he were a prisoner being escorted.
He had put the rental job in front. It reached out its claws to flip the locks. Then it threw open the door and floated out into the corridor. White-hot fire jetted in from one side, searing right through the rented percy, cutting it in half, causing it to exploole in a shower of molten metall and flaming plasteel. The carpet burst into flames. Even inside his armored tube, Cedric heard the roar and felt the blast. The blaze was bright enough to overload his viewplate and turn the images momentarily violet and red. "Well, damn!" Bagshaw's voice muttered in his ear, "Looks like they want to play rough."
Ionosphere, April 7