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

A bunny head had been painted on the tail. At the tower, he had been swept up into a high place, as
Satan had done with Jesus; only, unlike Jesus, Matt had accepted the offer. Not that he intended to
fall on his knees and worship at the monetary altar of Howard Christian, but he recognized the
billionaire was now his boss, and he knew bosses could turn out to want many things, some of them
impossible.

Then down in the private elevator to the fifth subbasement, where there were a dozen fantastic
automobiles. Howard Christian didn't believe in letting his toys gather dust—he liked to get them out
and play with them. He was probably the richest man in the world who actually drove very much.

Matt paused at a pale yellow convertible with red trim that looked longer, taller, and wider than
any car he had ever seen, and yet managed to seat only two people. It had big globe headlamps and
four chromed pipes coming out of the hood cowl on each side.

"I see you like this one. It's a '36 Duesenberg Model J, special built with a short wheelbase,
standard Deusy V-12 engine."

"This is the short version?"

"It was built for Clark Gable. He drove it to and from the studio while he was working on Gone
With the Wind. Or up and down Hollywood Boulevard with Carole Lombard sitting beside him. Get
in, we'll take this one."



CHRISTIAN drove them out of the basement and down Wilshire Boulevard, both of them
content to enjoy the soft purr of the engine, the smell of the pale yellow leather, the luxurious
suspension and road-handling ability, and the stares of other drivers. Sports car enthusiasts might
sneer, but only if they were profoundly ignorant of precision engineering.

Matt asked, "Howard, could I buy this car?"

"It's not for sale."

"No, I mean, could I afford it?"

Christian glanced at him.

"What am I paying you?"

"Two million dollars a year."

"You could make a down payment."

Christian looked over at Matt again, with a smile that was a bit smug but with enough sense of
almost adolescent wonder that Matt could forgive him.

He said, "They say in Los Angeles, you are what you drive."

"So what does that make you?" Matt asked.