"Doorsways in the Sand 10" - читать интересную книгу автора (Varley John)

Merimee answered on the sixth ring and recognized my voice.
"Yes," I said. "Listen, do you recall an offer you made the last time that we talked?"
"Yes, I do."
"I'd like to take you up on it," I said.
"Who?"
"Two of them. Their names are Zeemeister and Buckler-"
"Oh, Morty and Jamie! Sure."
"You know them?"
"Yes. Morty used to work for your uncle occasionally. When business was booming and we were swamped with orders, we sometimes had to hire on extra help. He was a fat little kid, eager to learn the trade. I never much liked him myself, but he had enthusiasm and certain aptitudes. After Al fired him, he began operations on his own and built up a fairly decent business. He acquired Jamie a couple years later, to deal with competitors and handle customer complaints. Jamie used to be a light-heavyweight boxer-a pretty good one-and he had lots of military experience. Deserted from three different armies-"
"Why did Uncle Al fire Zeemeister?"
"Oh, the man was dishonest. Who wants untrustworthy employees?"
"True. Well, they've come close to killing me twice now, and I have just learned they are loose again."
"I take it you do not know their present whereabouts?"
"That, unfortunately, is the case."
"Hmm. It makes things more difficult. Well, let us get at it from the other end. Where are you going to be for the next few days?"
"I should be heading for New York within the hour."
"Excellent! Where will you be staying?"
"I don't know yet."
"You are welcome to stay here again. In fact, it might facilitate-"
"You don't understand," I said. "I've graduated. Doctorate, in fact. Now I have a job. My boss is taking me to New York tonight. I don't know where he will be putting me up yet. I'll try to call you as soon as I get in."
"Okay. Congratulations on the job and the degree. When you make up your mind to do something, you really move fast-just like your uncle. I look forward to hearing the whole story soon. In the meantime, I will put out some feelers. Also, I think I can promise you a pleasant surprise before too long."
"Of what sort?"
"Now, it would not be a surprise if I told you, would it, dear boy? Trust me."
"Okay, here's trust," I said.
"Thanks."
"Till later."
"Goodbye."
Thus, with premeditation and full intent, et cetera. No apologies. I was tired of being shot, and it is always a shame to waste any sort of gift certificate.

The hotel, as it turned out, was directly across the street from the same partly fleshed skeleton of a possible office building that I had used to gain access to the roof of the structure diagonally across the street-namely, the hall that housed the Rhennius machine.
I somehow doubted that this was a matter of pure coincidence. When I commented on it, though, Nadler did not reply. It was after midnight that we were checking in, and I had been with the man continually since he had picked me up.
Then: "I'm about out of cigarettes," I said as we approached the desk, first noting, of course, that there was no cigarette machine in sight.
"Good," be replied. "Filthy habit."
The girl at the desk was more sympathetic, however, and told me where I could find one on the mezzanine. I thanked her, got our room number, told Nadler I would be up in a minute and left him there.
Naturally, I headed immediately for the nearest phone, got hold of Merimee and told him where I was.
"Good. Consider it staked out," he said. "By the way, I believe that the customers are in town. One of my associates thinks she saw them earlier."
"That was quick."
"Accidental, too. Still . . . Be of good cheer. Sleep well. Adieu."
"G'night."
I headed for the elevators, caught one to my floor and sought our room. Lacking a key, I knocked.
There was no response for a time. Then, just as I was about to knock again, Nadler's voice inquired, "Who is it?"
"Me. Cassidy," I said.
"Come on ahead. It's unlocked."
Trusting, preoccupied and a trifle tired, I turned the knob, pushed and entered. A mistake anyone could have made.
"Ted! What the hell is-" and by then a vine had snagged me by the leg and another was slipping about my shoulder-"it?" I inquired, going airborne.
I struggled, of course. Who wouldn't? But the thing raised me a good five feet into the air, shifting me into a horizontal position directly above its less than attractive self. It then proceeded to turn me upside down, so that my field of vision was dominated by its gray-green bulk, its tub of slime and its octopal members all awrithe. I had a hunch it meant me ill even before its leafy appendages came open like switchblades, showing me-their moist, spiny and suspiciously ruddy insides.
I let out a bleat and tore at the vines. Then something that felt like a red-hot poker occurred behind my eyes and passed from side to side and back within my head. Stark terror poured forth, and I twisted convulsively within the living bonds.
Then came what seemed a sharp whistling noise, the stabbing sensation was gone from my cranium, the vines slackened, collapsed, and I fell, twisting, to the carpet, narrowly missing the bucket's rim. A bit of the slime slopped over onto me, and inert tentacles fell like holiday streamers about me. I moaned and reached over to rub my shoulder.
"He's hurt!" came a voice that I recognized as Ragma's.
I turned my head to receive the sympathy I heard rushing toward me on little furry feet and big shod ones.