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

Blagonravov was a heavy man, heavy of face, heavy-set and his head was
completely shaven in the manner no longer much affected by Russian
ministers and ranking army officers. He was one of those who sweat if the
weather is even mildly warm. As usual, his tunic was off, his collar
loosened. After the dressing down his field man had given the untidy
captain out in the corridor, he could hardly have approved the appearance
of his superior. But he was, after all, the minister, and possibly the most
powerful, and the most feared, minister in the Soviet Complex.

Blagonravov said, "A drink?"
 Simonov shook his head. "A bit too early for me. Besides, I am afraid I
celebrated a bit too much last night upon my return from Irkutsk. I dislike
Siberia."

His superior had swung in his swivel chair to a small bar behind him.
He opened the refrigerator door and brought forth a liter of highly chilled
vodka, pulled the cork with his teeth and took up a tall shot glass and filled
it. He put the bottle on the top of the bar rather than returning it to the
refrigerator.

He said, "Ah, yes. Vladimir gave you an assignment in the East while I
was in Rumania. How did it go, Ilya?"

His top operative shrugged. "The usual. Took a couple of weeks in all."

"What was it all about?"

"The men in the mines there were trying to start a union."

The minister knocked back his vodka with a practiced stiff-wristed toss.
"Union?" he said in surprise. "Surely they already have a union. Miners?
Of course they have a union."

"I do not mean the State union," Simonov said, crossing his legs. "They
were trying to establish a union independent of control by the State. They
had various grievances, including a desire for better housing and medical
care. They even had plans for a strike."

His superior poured himself another drink. "What's it coming to?" he
growled. "You'd think we were in the West. What did you do?"

Ilya Simonov grunted his version of humor. "Well, I could hardly send
the ringleaders to Siberia, in view of the fact that they were already there.
So I arranged for a bit of an accident."

Blagonravov pursed fat lips. "Was it necessary to be so drastic? Number
One has suggested that we, ah, cool it a bit, as the Yankees say. Things are
no longer as desperate as they were in the old days."