"Mack Reynolds - Pacifist" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reynolds Mack)

Evidently they hadn’t.


A freight elevator shot him to the roof of the next building. From here, given luck, he could cross to a still
further building and make his getaway.


He emerged on the roof, shot a quick glance around.


Fifty feet away, their backs to him, stood three security police agents. Two of them armed with automatic
rifles, the other with a handgun, they were peering over the parapet, probably at the windows of his apartment.
His weapon flashed to position, but then the long weariness overtook him. No more killing. Please. No more
killing. He lowered the gun, turned and headed quietly in the opposite direction.


A voice behind him yelled, “Hey! Stop! You—


He ran.


The burst of fire caught Warren Casey as he attempted to vault to the next building. It ripped through him and
the darkness fell immediately, and far, far up from below, the last thought that was ever signalled was That’s
right!


Fifteen minutes later Senator Phil McGivern scowled down at the meaningless crumpled figure. “You couldn’t
have captured him?” he said sourly.


“No, sir,” the security sergeant defended himself. “It was a matter of shoot him or let him escape.”


McGivern snorted his disgust.


The sergeant said wonderingly, “Funny thing was, he could’ve finished off the three of us. We were the only
ones on the roof here. He could’ve shot us and then got away.”


One of the others said, “Probably didn’t have the guts.”


“No,” McGivern growled. “He had plenty of guts.”