"Mack Reynolds - Day After Tomorrow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reynolds Mack)

"Don't be silly," Larry Woolford said, escorting Susan inside and closing
the door behind them. He saw her to the couch in the lavish living room
before turning back to the other. He wondered if the girl knew what
'robbing the cradle' meant. Probably. Her generation knew everything. But
she was probably too upset to think about it.

He said, "Listen, Art, this girl's a kingpin in an operation we're
cooperating with Secret Service on. Whether or not we stay on it, I don't
know. At any rate, we'll be hearing from Steve Hackett, shortly. You know
Steve, don't you? Meanwhile, post yourself out in the hall. Nobody but
Steve gets in unless you clear it with me first."

Art had raised his eyebrows, but now he said, "Right, Larry." He drew
his Gyro-jet from the holster beneath his left arm, threw the magazine,
checked it, heeled it back into the the butt of the gun, threw a cartridge
into the chamber, returned the deadly weapon to its nest and left for the
corridor to stand guard.

Larry lowered himself into a chair across from her. "Well, here we are,"
he said. "We'll probably have a couple of hours or so before we hear from
Mr. Hackett. Steven's boss isn't the easiest man in the world to get to see."

Her under lip trembled slightly again. "You aren't going to let me go?"
 He said soothingly, "Possibly a little later, Zusanette. There are some
other people who will probably want to talk to you."

She said hesitantly, "You could let me go… if you wanted to? I mean,
you're the one in charge? I heard the superior way you talked to that other
one—Steve."

"Sure, sure. You can depend on me. Meanwhile, this isn't as bad as all
that. Let me show you around. There's a king-size Tri-Di set over there in
that wall. And lots of books there on the shelves. If you want anything to
eat or drink, just phone for it. This is the most ritzy hotel in Greater
Washington. There's a delivery box in the kitchen over there. They'll send
up everything you want. Consider yourself a guest of the government,
Zusanette."

He led her about the suite. Two bedrooms, two baths, two dressing
rooms, a dining room, a kitchen.

It was very well done, actually, though somewhat ostentatious. Which
he assumed wouldn't bother her at all. Some real VIPs had stayed here on
more than one occasion—usually complete with call girls.

"It's very nice," Susan Self said lowly. "But I'd rather go home."

"Your father isn't even there, you know, Zusanette," Larry said patiently.