"Stephen Goldin - Finish Line" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goldin Stephen)

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Laser Book 45 - Finish Line by Stephen Goldin (v1.0) (html)


accustomed to the dimmer light she looked around the room and could not
suppress a tiny gasp. She had not expected to find anything like this inside a
spaceship.

The room was shaped like a wedge of a cylinder. Behind her stood a nine-meter-
long outer wall and some distance ahead of her the inner wall stretched for a
mere one and one half meters—and this mostly door. Four meters overhead was
the ceiling. The floor was of inlaid marble, with several large oriental rugs
scattered about. The walls were covered with velvet wallpaper in different
shades of green; several large "family portraits" in ornate wooden frames were
hung at intervals, while imitation gaslights on the walls provided the
illumination.

The furniture consisted of a two-and-a-half-meter-long sofa ranged along one
wall and six wildly over-padded chairs. A small spinet stood in one corner, a
grandfather clock in another. The furniture all looked antique—the term
"Victorian" came to her mind—though Shino guessed that it would only be
simulated at best. Not that Bred deVrie couldn't afford genuine antiques—the
deVrie family was one of the wealthiest in Society—but whatever was inside
this ship would have to withstand several gravities of acceleration every time the
ship landed or took off, and Shino doubted that the real thing could hold up
under such stress. Still, it made an instant impression.

"I see you like my Drawing Room," the male voice continued. "It's simple, but
it's homey."

The sound brought her attention back to the matter at hand. Standing in front of
her was a man who could only be the famous—or should that be notorious?—


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Laser Book 45 - Finish Line by Stephen Goldin (v1.0) (html)


Bred deVrie. In Society, where the people prided themselves on being different.
Master deVrie had a reputation as being in a class by himself. Yet, at first
glance, Shino wondered how that could possibly have come about.

She had been prepared to meet a disreputable scoundrel, a giant or a dwarf,
someone with a half-mad gleam in his eye. Instead, the man she faced was of a
jovial mien, who would hardly stand out in a crowd of more than three. He was
of medium height, and his body was pleasantly rounded without quite being fat.
The corners of his mouth dimpled when he smiled, which he was doing now. His
eyes glittered with the joy of living.