"Geoffrey A. Landis - David in the Lion's Den" - читать интересную книгу автора (Landis Geoffrey A)

DAVID IN THE LION’S DEN
Geoffrey A. Landis

Monday 25 March, U.S.A.

David had both of his arms up in a glove box when Jake walked into the lab.
He was concentrating on pipetting one drop of a cultured retrovirus into each of the
sixteen tissue culture samples that his grad student Asim had carefully prepared and
didn’t notice Jake was there until he spoke.

“Have you heard the news yet?” asked Jake. His voice was grim.

“News?” David Kantrowicz sighed. “There’s news? No, haven’t heard it.” He
put down the sample, capped it off, and withdrew his arms from the glove box
carefully.

He was a tall man, with dark curly hair and wire-rimmed glasses. Only a close
friend or exceptionally keen observer would notice the slight hesitation in his step
from where he’d stopped a small-caliber bullet long ago. “From your tone, though, I
can guess that it’s not good. They made the decision? It’s Saud the younger?”

“It’s him.”

“Damn.” After months of bitter infighting after the death of the king, the
council of princes of Saudi Arabia had finally reached agreement. Aboud ibn Abd
al-Saud would be king of Saudi Arabia, protector of Mecca and nominal leader of
the Moslems. It had come at the worst possible time, when the Arab world was
increasingly becoming disenchanted with the lack of any signs of resolution to the
peace process. Al-Saud was a fanatic; he had made his pledge that he would not
accept compromise with Israel of any sort, no matter how well crafted, or what the
cost. And the cost was sure to be high. No matter who won. “As my grandfather
would put it: oy, vey, such tsuris we need like we need holes in the head.”

“Yeah?” Jake said. “Did your grandfather really talk like Woody Allen
imitating a Poconos comedian?”

David shrugged. “How should I know? He died when I was a kid. To hear my
father speak, he did. So anyway, we’re ready?”

“We’ve talked about it enough. The question is, are you ready?” Jake asked.

“I guess so.” David sighed again. He turned back to his glove box to start
putting away his samples. “Although I’d rather not. War is for young fellows, not
superannuated postdocs like me. But, last week I called Yosef in Tel Aviv. He said
that they were pretty sure it would be Saud, and when it hits the fan he’d welcome
having me back with him. I told him that if it comes down to it, I’ll be there.”

“You don’t count as old until you get tenure, kid. I got the tickets. You fly out
tonight at seven, arrive in Rome late morning, and get into Tel Aviv about two.”