"Mack Reynolds - Tomorrow Might Be Different" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reynolds Mack)

dwarfed anything the rest of the world had ever seen."

Mike shifted uncomfortably on his stool, but he couldn't leave in the middle of the other's conversation.
He didn't particularly go in for such subjects these days. People came down here to relax, not to dwell on
the ulcer breeding economics of the world.

Jones was saying, "Not an obsolete piece of machinery in the plant. No worry about competition, either.
A captive market of a couple of billion people, if you count the Chinese. No need to change designs
every year to attract buyers. At least a twenty-five million car a year capacity, in that one plant alone. No
wonder they can afford to sell them for two hundred dollars."

Catherina Saratov came strolling into the patio-lounge done up in the latest from Budapest, the Soviet
Complex style center, a shimmering disposable material now being turned out by the billions of yards.
Mike watched her cross the room. She moved as a professional dancer moves, graceful, confident. It hit
him all over again. Holy smokes but the girl was attractive. He felt a stirring within him.

He turned to his companion, and interrupted. "You'll have to pardon me," he said. "One of my clients
that I have to check with, just entered."

"Sure," Jones said, although he seemed to dislike the idea of Mike leaving.

Mike got off the stool and headed for the girl, racking his mind for something to say to her. Some excuse
for his accosting her.

Chapter III

The next day, Mike Edwards was scheduled to take a party to Malaga, eight miles north of
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Torremolinos, for a bullfight. It was in the way of being something special. The aging Manola Segura had
come out of retirement for the third time and was having a series ofmano a mano corridas with Carlos
Arruza 3rd.

Mike's party consisted of seventy Horizonal Holidays tourists, sixty-five of them Russkies. He got his cut
through the ticket purchases, buying in a block. Horizonal Holidays didn't mind such little rackets; they
enabled the company to pay their agents minimum salaries. Mike had the nightclub tours, the tour to
Granada, the tour to Gibraltar, the tour to Tangier, beach parties, and so forth. He made enough through
the season, by this means, to last him throughout the year.

The road to Malaga was packed with cars and buses coming up from Torremolinos, Marbella, Estepona
and probably, for such a fight as this, from as far as Gibraltar. Even if there had been more than a handful
of Spanishaficionados who could afford the admission price, it looked improbable that they could have
found seats in the bull plaza.

The Russkies, as always, were jubilant. Even on the way into town in the bus, the bubbling wine bottles
went from hand to hand, laughter and jibes filled the interior, not to speak of raucous songs.