"Ron Goulart - A Whiff of Madness" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goulart Ron)

copper, and weapons. With the war between East and West in full swing, they're raking in fantastic
profits."
"The head of the family is Wattas Starbuck, as I recall. What's he think about this claimant?"
"Denies entirely he's little Mulligan grown to manhood. However, Wattas's old mother, Lady
Thorkin, has accepted the lad. She believes in her heart he's her long missing grandson and has given him
the run of the estate, making for some tension around the Starbuck homestead. The Starbuck claimant
affair is causing quite a frumus, charges of fraud are in the air, and there may well be a trial." Flowers
slumped a bit more. "It's the kind of situation Muckrake might well write up."
"I should be able to convince Waldo's people, and anyone else curious, I'm in Laranja to dig into
the Starbuck affair "
Flowers closed his eyes for a few seconds. The light from one of the stained glass windows made
rainbow patterns across his weary, lined face. "Something else I better tell you, Jack. We're going to
need pictures and I have to assign you, somewhat against my will, a partner. If you can get me a shot of
King Waldo skulking through the foggy back streets of the capital city in his phantom gear, or maybe
actually in the act of grabbing some old bimbo by the throat I'll—"
"Talma!" realized Summer. "You're teaming me up again with Palma, the horniest photographer in
the Barnum System ... if not the entire cosmos."
"Yep, him," admitted the editor. "He claims he's reformed, after getting himself almost killed on
Mala-gra"
"Malagra, the pesthole of the universe. Is Palma still there?"
"No, he's on Peregrine, doing a picturespread on the public executions in Laranja East," said the
weary Flowers. "Therefore, he's got a perfectly respectable excuse for being in the territory."
"I doubt Palma's much reformed," said Summer. "Every time we've worked together in the past
he—"
"Glorious! Glorious! Glorious!"
Little automaton choirboys were marching out onto the cathedral altar, singing.
"You're ten minutes ahead of schedule, you little clockwork twerps!" Flowers shouted at them.
"Glorious! Glorious! Glorious!"
Standing, Summer said, "I'll pack When do I depart for Peregrine?"
"Ten tomorrow from Barnum Spaceport-two," said his editor. "Try to keep Palma from causing
an incident, will you? Don't go screwing around too much yourself."
"I assure you," said Summer, grinning, Talma's behavior and mine will be nothing less than
saintly." Flowers sighed. "Well, good luck."
"Glorious! Glorious! Glorious!" sang the choirboys.


CHAPTER 2
The parade flowed along the wide cobblestone street. A marching band of scarlet-uniformed
birdmen passed the corner where Summer had been forced to stop because of the thick crowd of
parade watchers. It was forty degrees Celsius on the glaring midday streets of the capital city of Laranja
East. The newly arrived reporter was anxious to get to the Laranja-Sheraton and out of the sun.
"Excuse me," he said to the twin fat ladies immediately in front of him.
They continued licking at their strawberry ice cream cones, ignoring him.
 Six dozen steam-operated military robots went clanking by, followed by several squads of
virginal young blond girls in white lycra tunics. Each girl carried a placard that said: Kill the Dirty Bastard!
Summer managed to nudge a few paces to the left, which brought him up against a broad,
feathered back. "Mind if I try to cross?"
The birdman kept pecking at his suetburger, moving not.
Virginal redheads trooped by. Cut Him in Chunks! Spill His Guts!
"Pardon me." Summer elbowed around the hefty birdman, shoved one of the fat ladies aside, and