"Ron Goulart - The Panchronicon Plot" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goulart Ron)

carried his packed suitcase to the doorway of the large oval room.
"You're not, surely, implying you owe RFA something?"
Conger didn't look at her, but he felt certain she was standing with one hand on her hip and the
other tangling through her dark hair. "I owe Geer something," he said.
Angelica made the sedate snorting sound she sometimes made. "That little frightwigged son of
a bitch really knows how to manipulate you."
"It's not a wig, Geer's hair really—"
"He just has to sniffle and dab at his baggy eyes with a lace hanky and you scoot in and pack a
bag."
Conger faced her. Yep, hand on hip and the other one twisting a strand of hair. "I explained to
you already, Angelica, what the setup was. There's a damn large fee involved, don't forget. And I
didn't rush right in to pack, Geer left to go back to Manhattan over an hour ago," he said. "If he's
right, if President Bisbiglia has gone goofy then—"
"Suppose it's Geer who's got a screw loose?"
"Possible, but I doubt it."
6 RON GOULART


"No, it's much more logical to you that the President of the United States is a loony and that
instead of simply being shacked up someplace with a cooch dancer the Secretary of Mental Health
is back in Vienna in the late 19th Century. Sure, much more sensible than accepting the fact Geer's
finally crossed the line between sanity and out and out goofiness." She shook her head. "Any man
who, from what you've told me, eats so much pastry is bound to go sugar-nutty sooner or later."
"I think he's cutting down on sweets."
"He reeked of glucose when he came lurching into the restaurant this morning."
"Even so I tend to believe him." Conger moved close to his wife. "This whole business can
probably be cleaned up in a few days."
"Or quicker," said Angelica, "depending on how soon they kill you."
"Well, be sure to tell the undertaker I wish to be buried in a jogging position, so when the final
trump sounds I can get off to a good start."
She hesitated a few seconds, then came running across the bedroom to him. "Jake, I don't want
you to go." Her arms took hold of him, her head rested against his chest. "Death separated us once
already, I don't—"
"We overcame that," he reminded. "Trust me. I'll be back here in less than a week."
"All right," she said finally, letting go, backing away from. "Your first stop is the New Mexico
Free Colony?"
"Yeah, that's where Buford True resides."
Angelica said, "He's really supposed to have the ability to travel through time?"
"According to what Geer told me. Buford True can, without the aid of gadgets or gimmicks,
move back and forth along the time stream," said Conger. "Only about a dozen guys in the world
with that particular wild talent. Anyone else who wants to time travel has to go through approved
TTOC channels."
"If," said Angelica, "the president is really up to what your old boss suspects . . . some people
may not want you to recruit Mr. True."
"Same thought occurred to me," admitted her husband. "Geer, though, says Wild Talent is the
only government agency which knows about True so far. If I'm fast, and lucky, I can get him to
agree to help."
"Help by going back into time to hunt for these people Geer thinks have been dumped?"
"Go back, and maybe take me along."
"Can Buford True do that?"