"Mike Resnick - Velvet Comet 2 - Eros At Zenith" - читать интересную книгу автора (Resnick Mike)

are…"
"I really couldn't say, sir. His name's Pagliacci. He works as a comedian in one of the
nightclubs."
"I hope his jokes are funnier than his make-up."
"I've never caught his act, sir," replied Oglevie.
Crane took a final look at the comedian, shook his head, and once again fell into step
behind Oglevie. After another few minutes they came to a large, ornate door.
"This is the place?" asked Crane.
Oglevie nodded. "I'll wait outside for you, sir."
"That won't be necessary. I don't know how long I'll be, so you might as well go back to
work."
Oglevie looked relieved. "As you wish, sir."
Crane watched the security man walk away, then turned to the door. He was just about
to reach out and press a small buzzer when it slid back into the wall, revealing a spacious
and tastefully-furnished office. The beige carpeting was deep and luxuriant, there was a
well-stocked hardwood bar on the back wall, and a pair of fur-covered couches faced
each other across a large chrome coffee table which he suspected was also a computer.
Half a dozen computer screens were set unobtrusively into one wall, while holographs
and paintings were carefully hung on the remaining walls. A pair of stylish chrome
chairs faced an artificial fireplace that was made of highly-polished opalescent quartz
which seemed to catch the indirect lighting of the room and reflect it back in a myriad of
changing colors.
As the door slid shut behind him, Crane stepped into the office and began scrutinizing it
more carefully. The holographs on the wall instantly captured his attention, and he
walked over and stood before them. There were eleven, each displaying the likeness of a
lovely and exotically-clad woman, and he paused to examine them individually.
"My predecessors," said a feminine voice.
He turned and saw a tall, slender, strikingly beautiful black woman standing in a
doorway just to the right of the fireplace.
Her hair was piled high atop her head, strung through with shining gold beads. The
single garment was a glittering strip of metallic gold cloth, carefully wound around her
body in a series of spirals that exposed almost as much as it concealed. Large circular
golden earrings, a number of golden bracelets, and a pair of delicate golden sandals
completed the picture.
"You're the Black Pearl?" he said.
"Good old lucky Number Thirteen," she replied with a grimace. "You must be Mr. Crane
here to bring the murderer to justice."
"There are only eleven holographs on the wall," he noted.
"The Corporation decorated my office, and for some reason saw fit not to display one of
the holographs." She smiled. "I assure you that there really have been twelve previous
madams."
"I've never met a madam before," he said awkwardly. "How does one address you?"
"As the Black Pearl," she replied. "It's my name." She paused, obviously amused by his
uneasiness. "I, on the other hand, have never met a detective before."
"For all I know, neither has your Chief of Security," said Crane. "At least, she hasn't met
this one."
"She's probably busy trying to solve the crime before you take over," remarked the Black
Pearl. "She's a very proud woman, the Dragon Lady."
"She's also a very frightened one," added Crane. "And not without cause."
"Why should you say that, Mr. Crane?"