"Brian Lumley - Psychomech 01 - Psychomech" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lumley Brian)

german woman! Pimp, did you call me? But you might be safer with a cobra, Richard Garrison, than with Vicki. Yes, and
you might stand more chance. But of course I could be wrong ... Ah! - there are our mushrooms.’ Under Schroeder’s
guidance Garrison stepped a few paces from the path through grass and clover. He halted at the German’s command
and went carefully down on one knee. From their feel the mushrooms were more like toadstools: long-stemmed, fully
domed and warty. Completely unlike the common field mushrooms of England, they were sticky, irritatingly pungent
and they grew tall, at least six inches. Even without Schroeder to direct him, Garrison would have found the things.
Once he had their scent he was drawn to them almost magnetically. ‘Six will be sufficient,’ Schroeder called to him.
‘Enough for our purposes. Wrap them in your handkerchief.’ Garrison collected six, returned to the wheelchair and
handed them over. Schroeder sniffed them appreciatively.
‘Semen!’ he said. ‘From their shape and their smell, you could almost picture nymphs of the forest crouching down
over them, eh?’
Garrison laughed. ‘What are they for?’ he asked.
Schroeder reached up and tapped the other’s nose twice before he could jerk his face away. ‘None of your business.
You, who have declared your independence of drugs. But come, turn us about and let’s be on our way. You must swim
and relax, and I have things to do. And then there’s lunch. And this afternoon - the photographers!’
‘Photographers?’ Garrison was bemused.
‘Oh, yes. And my tailor to take your measurements. And your voice to be taped. And a specialist to fit you up.
And—’
‘Whoa!’ said Garrison.-Tm not getting any of this...’
‘Ah, but you will! You will!’
Garrison slowly nodded. ‘OK,’ he said, refusing to be tantalized, ’we’ll see what we’ll see. But one thing: maybe I’d
better cancel my date at the pool with Vicki. I don’t have any swim trunks.’
Trunks?’ Schroeder laughed. ‘We can find some for you. But what difference does it make? Vicki has no costume
either!’
 ‘But—’
‘Or perhaps you think that I am not only a pimp but also a peeping-Thomas, eh?’ At which they both burst out
laughing...

At Garrison’s insistence, Willy Koenig brought him a pair of swimming trunks. He went to his room to put them on
before allowing Koenig to take him out to the pool, by which time Vicki was already whooping and splashing about in
the water. She was like a child in her pleasure. The pool was no more than sixty inches deep, perhaps sixty feet long by
thirty wide. It had steps and a slide.
Braving the slide, Garrison seated himself on smooth boards slick with running water, gathered in his breath and was
about to take the plunge when Koenig chopped his hand away from the rim and gave him a hefty shove in the middle
of his back.
‘Bastard!’ Garrison expelled his air in a shout, shot down the slide and into the water. The pool’s temperature was
perfect, so that there was no shock at all to his system as he was fully immersed. Finding his feet, Garrison gasped,
‘Willy, are you trying to start World War III?’ His question was answered by a receding laugh as the big German
walked away. Garrison nodded after him and grinned. ‘Oh, ganz komisch!’ he said.
Vicki was laughing. ‘He pushed you in?’
‘Down the slide, yes.’ He dog-paddled in the direction of her voice.
‘Now you keep away,’ she answered, backing off. ‘I’m very strong in the water. And I refuse to be ducked!’
‘Funny way you Germans pronounce your Fs,’ he growled.
‘Not only are you forward, you’re very vulgar!’
‘Who said anything about ducking you?’ he laughed. And who was it asked me to swim with her anyway?’
‘Swim in the same pool with me,’ she agreed. ‘Not necessarily side by side, or touching. Oh!’ He cornered her, drew
her close.
‘Shit! You’re wearing a costume.’
‘A couple of hankies, yes. And you are wearing trunks. Silly of both of us, really. After all, there’s no one else here.’
‘There’s Willy,’ he said, kissing her forehead.