"Robert A. Heinlein - Friday" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

As may be. Here I was at last in the Imperium, another mission completed with only minor
bobbles. I exited at Lincoln Meadows while musing that I had garnered enough brownie points to
wheedle the boss out of a few weeks R&R in New Zealand. My family, a seven S-group, was in
Christchurch; I had not seen them in months. High time!
But in the meantime I relished the cool clean air and the rustic beauty of Illinois-it was
not South Island but it was the next best thing. They say these meadows used to be covered with
dingy factories-it seems hard to believe. Today the only building in sight from the station was
the Avis livery stable across the street.
At the hitching rail outside the station were two Avis RentaRigs as well as the usual
buggies and farm wagons. I was about to pick one of the Avis nags when I recognized a rig just
pulling in: a beautiful matched pair of bays hitched to a Lockheed landau. "Uncle Jim! Over here!
It's me!"
The coachman touched his whip to the brim of his top hat, then brought his team to a halt
so that the landau was at the steps where I waited. He climbed down and took off his hat. "It's
good to have you home, Miss Friday."
I gave him a quick hug, which he endured patiently. Uncle Jim Prufit harbored strong
notions of propriety. They say he was convicted of advocating papism-some said that he was
actually caught bare-handed, celebrating mass. Others said nonsense, he was infiltrating for the
company and took a fall to protect others. Me, I don't know that much about politics, but I
suppose a priest would have formal manners, whether he was a real one or a member of our trade. I
could be wrong; I don't think I've ever seen a priest.
As he handed me in, making me feel like a "lady," I asked, "How did you happen to be
here?"
"The Master sent me to meet you, miss."
"He did? But I didn't let him know when I would arrive." I tried to think who, on my back
track, could have been part of Boss's data net. "Sometimes I think the boss has a crystal ball."
"It do seem like it, don't it?" Jim clucked to Gog and Magog and we headed for the farm. I
settled back and relaxed, listening to the homey, cheerful clomp clomp! of horses' hooves on dirt.
I woke up as Jim turned into our gate and was wide awake by the time he pulled under the
porte-cochère. I jumped down without waiting to be a "lady" and turned to thank Jim.
They hit me from both sides.
Dear old Uncle Jim did not warn me. He simply watched while they took me.

II

My own stupid fault! I was taught in basic that no place is ever totally safe and that any place
you habitually return to is your top danger spot, the place most likely for booby trap, ambush,
stakeout.
But apparently I had learned this only as parrot rote; as an old pro I had ignored it. So
it bit me.
This rule is analogous to the fact that the person most likely to murder you is some
member of your own family-and that grim statistic is ignored too; it has to be. Live in fear of
your own family? Better to be dead!
My worst stupidity was to ignore a loud, clear, specific warning, not just a general
principle. How had dear old "Uncle" Jim managed to meet my capsule?-on the right day and almost to


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