"Paul J. McAuley - Inheritance" - читать интересную книгу автора (Mcauley Paul J)

pushed the door open.
He had a nasty moment groping for the light switch, remembering an
account, surely the world's shortest ghost story, of how someone had
awoken with a start and groped for matches to light a candle . . . and
felt something place them in his hand. The light came on.
The room was as it should have been: his case on its stand, the
bed-covers
neatly stretched over the mattress, one corner turned back and a
chocolate
mint wrapped like a gold medallion on the plumped pillow. Of course,
the
maid had been in. Even the initials scraped into the carpet pile had
been
erased by vacuuming. He crossed to the bed and picked up the 'phone to
call the desk.
And, twenty minutes later, set it back angrily. He had tried to get a
room
in the hotel he'd booked for tomorrow: no luck. And no luck either at
the
half dozen others he'd tried. The desk clerk had suggested that he try
a
bed-and-breakfast place, and Tolley had lost his temper.
"I want proper accommodation, not someone's second-best bedroom. Why is
that such a problem?"
"It's Christmas, I'm afraid, sir."
"Don't tell me," Tolley said, "no room at the inn." And slammed down
the
'phone. Well, perhaps he'd be safe here. He checked that the window was
locked, and went down to the bar, spent a couple of hours in
conversation
with a married couple from Idaho -- she had majored in architecture,
and
was in her element, while her husband grumbled half seriously about the
bad service, the appalling plumbing, the litter everywhere . . . in
short,
the lack of all the comforts any truly civilised country could afford
in
this last quarter of the twentieth century. Tolley agreed with all
this,
while wistfully eyeing the deep valley visible between the woman's
breasts
(thank God that décolletage was back in fashion) and thirstily drinking
half a dozen double scotches. At last, dizzy with drink and suppressed
lust, he staggered back to his room, remembering only as he was
crawling
into bed that he shouldn't be there. Warmed through with dutch courage,
he
even switched off the light.

And woke with the 'phone warbling beside his bed. He groped for the