"Mike Resnick - Pearly Gates" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Mike)

"Let me restate that," I said. "Can you direct the Pearly
Gates to remain in the vicinity of the souls in question?"
He shook his head. "You do not comprehend, Mr. Holmes. They
exist in all times and places at once."
"I see," I said, wishing I had my pipe to draw upon now that
I was in human form. "Can you create a second gate?"
"It would not be the same," said Saint Peter.
"It needn't be the same, as long as it similar to the
perception of a soul."
"He would know instantly."
I shook my head. "He is quite insane. His thought processes,
such as they are, are aberrant. If you do as I suggest, and place
a false gate near the souls of his victims, my guess is that he
will not pause to notice the difference. He is somehow drawn to
them, and this will be a barrier to his desires. He will be more
interested in attacking it than in analyzing it, even if he were
capable of the latter, which I am inclined to doubt."
"You're quite sure?" asked Saint Peter doubtfully.
"He is compelled to perform his carnage upon prostitutes. For
whatever reason, these seem to be the only souls he can identify
as prostitutes. Therefore, it is these that he wishes to attack."
I paused again. "Create the false gates. The soul that goes
through them will be the one you seek."
"I hope you are correct, Mr. Holmes," he said. "Pride is a
sin, but even _I_ have a modicum of it, and I should hate to be
shamed before my Lord."
And with that, he was gone.
#
He returned after an indeterminate length of time, a
triumphant smile upon his face.
"I assume that our little ruse worked?" I said.
"Exactly as you said it would!" replied Saint Peter. "Jack
the Ripper is now where he belongs, and shall never desecrate
Heaven with his presence again." He stared at me. "You should be
thrilled, Mr. Holmes, and yet you look unhappy."
"I envy him in a way," I said. "For at least he now has a
challenge."
"Do not envy him," said Saint Peter. "Far from having a
challenge, he can look forward to nothing but eternal suffering."
"I have that in common with him," I replied bitterly.
"Perhaps not," said Saint Peter.
I was instantly alert. "Oh?"
"You have saved me from shame and embarrassment," he said.
"The very least I can do is reward you."
"How?"
"I rather thought _you_ might have a suggestion."
"This may be Heaven to you," I said, "but it is Hell to me.
If you truly wish to reward me, send me to where I can put my
abilities to use. There is evil abroad in the world; I am uniquely
qualified to combat it."