"Robert A. Heinlein - The unpleasant profession of Johathan Ho" - читать интересную книгу автора (Heinlein Robert A)

She polished it carefully, added ice and water with equal care not to wet the sides. She
carried it in, holding it near the bottom.
Intentionally or unintentionally, he had outmaneuvered her. He was standing in
front of the mirror near the door, where he had evidently been straightening his tie and
tidying himself and returning the garlic to its hide-away. When he turned around at her
approach she saw that he had put his gloves back on.
She invited him to sit down, thinking that if he did so he would remove his
gloves. But he said, "I've imposed on you too long as it is." He drank half the glass of
water, thanked her, and left silently.
 Randall came in. "He's gone?"
She turned quickly. "Yes, he's gone. Teddy, I wish you would do your own dirty
work. He makes me nervous. I wanted to scream for you to come in."
"Steady, old girl."
"That's all very well, but I wish we had never laid eyes on him." She went to a
window and opened it wide.
"Too late for Herpicide. We're in it now." His eye rested on the glass. "Say -- did
you get his prints?"
"No such luck. I think he read my mind."
"Too bad."
"Teddy, what do you intend to do about him now?"
"I've got an idea, but let me work it out first. What was this song and dance he
was giving you about devils and a man in a mirror watching him?"
"That wasn't what he said."
"Maybe I was the man in the mirror. I watched him in one this morning."
"Huh-uh. He was just using a metaphor. He's got the jumps." She turned
suddenly, thinking that she had seen something move over her shoulder. But there was
nothing there but the furniture and the wall. Probably just a reflection in the glass, she
decided, and said nothing about it. "I've got 'em, too," she added. "As for devils, he's all
the devil I want. You know what I'd like?"
"What?"
"A big stiff drink and early to bed."
"Good idea." He wandered out into the kitchen and started mixing the
prescription. "Want a sandwich too?"

Randall found himself standing in his pajamas in the living room of their
apartment, facing the mirror that hung near the outer door. His reflection -- no, not his
reflection, for the image was properly dressed in conservative clothes appropriate to a
solid man of business -- the image spoke to him.
"Edward Randall."
"Huh?"
"Edward Randall, you are summoned. Here -- take my hand. Pull up a chair and
you will find you can climb through easily."
It seemed a perfectly natural thing to do, in fact the only reasonable thing to do.
He placed a straight chair under the mirror, took the hand offered him, and scrambled
through. There was a washstand under the mirror on the far side, which gave him a leg
down. He and his companion were standing in a small, white tiled washroom such as one
finds in office suites.
"Hurry," said his companion. "The others are all assembled."
"Who are you?"
"The name is Phipps," the other said, with a slight bow. "This way, please."