"John Varley - Mammoth" - читать интересную книгу автора (Varley John)

pegged his age at thirty-four. He wore hiking boots and heavy canvas pants, a lumberjack shirt, and,
absurdly, a khaki vest with dozens of pockets, festooned with the bright tinsel and feathers of trout
lures. Christian himself disdained business clothing almost entirely, preferring cheap jeans and western
shirts and outrageously expensive hand-tooled cowboy boots made from all manner of exotic
leathers. The last time he could recall wearing formal clothing was three years ago, picking up the
Academy Award for Best Picture.

"I understand you've accepted my offer, Professor Wright."

"Your man said something about a hundred thousand dollars."

"Of course. Will you take a check?"

"How long would it take to get it in cash?"

Christian looked at Warburton.

"Five minutes," Warburton said, and reached for a telephone.

"Never mind," Matt said. "I just never held that much money all at once."

"Neither have I, come to think of it," Christian said.

"What, you don't have a money bin someplace where you shove tons of coins around with
bulldozers?"

Christian's smile became genuine for the first time. "You know Uncle Scrooge McDuck! I'll have
to show you my comics collection sometime."

"It would be a pleasure."

Warburton was looking at his wristwatch, and he cleared his throat.

"Ah... yes," Christian said. "I'm sorry to have ripped you so abruptly from your fishing trip. But I
hope to make it up to you with a late lunch at the Polo Lounge. We have a reservation."

"Okay. But didn't I read that you've said you'd rather eat at Burger King?"

"I grew up eating Burger King," Christian said, with a tight smile. "Never developed a taste for
the finer things, I guess."

"Well, I'm not a gourmet, either. You clearly have something you're dying to tell me. Why don't
we save time, eat on the way to wherever it is we're going?"



ON the way to lunch, Matt decided he could get used to this way of life.

The helicopter in Oregon had whisked him quickly to PDX, where one of Howard Christian's
private jets awaited. It was an all-black vintage Boeing 727 that had once belonged to Hugh Hefner.