"E. E. Doc Smith - D' Alembert 9 - The Omicron Invasion" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith E. E. Doc)

traced the vidicom number back, and found it had been assigned to a fictitious identity. The machine was
one that could be called from anywhere else and have the message repeated. Lady A could not be traced
back this way—not that anyone had expected to.

At five o'clock that evening, Miami time, Zander von Wilmenhorst was waiting alone at slot 36 of
the Miami Heliport, just as the instructions said. He was unarmed, and the nearest people were over a
hundred meters away. There was a slight whirring as a copter set gently down on the pad in front of him.
Von Wilmenhorst was disappointed, but not surprised, that the pilot was not Lady A herself, but some
man in her employ. At the pilot's signal, von Wilmenhorst climbed into the passenger's side and the copter
took off once more.

They headed north along the Florida coast. "Nice day for flying, isn't it?" von Wilmenhorst said
conversationally. The pilot made no response, and after a few other gambits von Wilmenhorst gave up.
The man had obviously been instructed to have no intercourse with his passenger; he was paid to fly, not
talk.

They continued to fly north, past the beach communities that were part of the metropolitan Miami
complex. After a while, they reached an almost deserted stretch of beach, and the helicopter set down once
more. Von Wilmenhorst got out and the copter took off again. The Head watched it go, wondering what
would happen next.

"He'll be back when I signal for him," said Lady A as she stepped from behind a large boulder.
She wore a green silk caftan -- loose, flowing, totally demure and innocent. There was nothing innocent,
though, about the stunning beauty of her face and the cold, merciless depth of her eyes.

"I thought we'd want to be alone," she continued. "By the way, since I assume you'll check, he's
not part of my conspiracy, just a legitimate pilot I hired to do a job. I wouldn't expose any of my regulars
to your scrutiny."

Von Wilmenhorst approached the woman who'd caused so much grief for the Empire. "It's a relief
to finally meet you, Gospozha Amorat," he said politely.

"We've actually met several times before, Gospodin von Wilmenhorst," the woman said, ignoring
his official title as casually as he'd ignored hers. "That was long before you'd ever heard of me, of course.
You go to so many official functions, I thought it would be amusing to be introduced to the man whose
agency was chasing me so frantically. I was careful to disguise myself, of course, so I never looked the
same twice."

If she'd hope to fluster him by her admission, she miscalculated. The Grand Duke simply nodded
slightly and said, "I stand somewhat corrected. At least I am now meeting you in what passes for your true
identity these days. I believe you wanted to see me about some urgent business."
 "Let's walk along the beach a little way," she said, starting northward. Beside her, von
Wilmenhorst easily kept pace. The heat of the day was fading as the cool sea breeze began to come in.

"First," she continued after a moment, "we must establish some ground rules. I'm assuming you're
a man of your word, and that you're unarmed: I am, too. If you have any transmitting devices on your
person, they're currently being jammed by some of my equipment. If any of your people try to interrupt us
during our conference, I won't be responsible for the consequences. I am also assuming you've got some
recording devices on you; that is acceptable. All intelligent people keep notes of important meetings, and I
won't be telling you more than you need to know to work effectively with me if you choose to do so. Are