"Alan Dean Foster - Cyber way" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

as in the Glades themselves. The three gators who made their home in the indoor garden of this
very building had never expressed any desire to move on.
Man adapts to the world, and the world adapts to man. The only thing man couldn't seem to adapt to
was himself, which was why Kettrick had pushed the security switch the instant his unannounced
visitor had appeared. He appraised, then relaxed, seeing no weapon, sensing no threat. Security
personnel would arrive momentarily. Had he been truly concerned, he would have thumbed the red
button instead of the orange one disguised as an inlay in his desk. Concealed nozzles would have
buried the intruder in a shell of quick-drying immobilizing foam.
Kettrick knew mere was no need to employ such measures. No need, because he recognized the
intruder. Silently he vowed that this would be the last time he would indulge this particular
individual. Even the traditional Kettrick courtesy had its limits, and these had now been
exceeded.
No need to be nervous. His visitor was not psychotic. Merely obsessed.


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The man gazed at the door through which he'd entered, as if aware his time was limited. Then,
before speaking, he turned to nod at the sweeping panorama visible through the bubble glass behind
the desk.
"I can see that you are an admirer of the natural order.
CYBER UJflY 3
It causes me to wonder anew why you will not sell me the picture."
"My love of beauty is what attracted me to the picture in the first place," Kettrick replied. "Why
would I want to turn it over to you? We've been through this before. I thought I'd made it
perfectly clear that I never sell anything from my collection. I told you that the last time."
"I needed to hear it from you again. There is always a first time. I must have the painting."
Since he had not invited him to come in, Kettrick did not invite him to sit down. He left him
standing, convinced that the man posed no immediate threat- Kettrick chuckled to himself. Now, his
son-in-law, the gargantuan white boy his daughter had married, that was a threatening personality.
Cody had to be, since by profession he played backup nose-guard for the Bucs. This irritation who
had burst into his office was only a little more than average height and of slim build. Hardly an
imposing physicality. Kettrick thought that the man's straight black hair was exceptionally dark
even for an Amerindian. The industrialist found himself wondering if Indians could tan. The
intruder's clothing was simple and utilitarian.
All you really noticed were the obsidian eyes. You noticed mem because they didn't notice you.
They seemed to be focused on something behind Kettrick even though the man was gazing directly at
him. Odd. Nor was his visitor out-grabed. He was much too coherent for that. There was no telltale
clouding of the corneas, no nervous trembling in the fingers. Though come to think of it, this
fellow did hold his hands in a strange fashion, with the fingers curved back and up like hooks. Or
like paws.
He could be wrong, and although he wasn't an expert, Kettrick knew an addict when he saw one.
Friends of his son-in-law were always hinting that it would be nice if he could obtain the latest
designer steroids for them. All be-
M Rlan Dean Foster
cause a small chain of drugstores was included among his diverse holdings.
Of course he refused all such requests, no matter how oblique. Should it come out in the media, a
single such story could harm the business, not to mention his social standing in the community, in
which be took considerable pride. He had no intention of risking any of that simply to do a favor