"Robert Weinberg - Logical Magician 02 - A Calculated Magician" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weinberg Robert)

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They arrived downtown without further incident. However, remaining cautious, Cassandra insisted that
they park blocks away from the building in which Merlin’s suite was located. Office workers breaking for
lunch provided plenty of cover for their entrance to the complex and onto the elevators. Only when they
were on the way up to the thirty-fourth floor did the Amazon relax.
“Dedicated assassins are real trouble, Jack,” she declared when they were alone on the elevator.
“Over the centuries, I often served as a bodyguard for the rich and famous. I worked for both kings and
queens and, at times, the masterminds who pulled their strings. In every case, when a group of dedicated
professionals decided that their target had lived too long, death proved inevitable. Even the most
competent protector, and I was the best,” the Amazon stated completely matter-of-factly, “could not
stop fanatics.”
Jack nodded. “Ever hear the story of Saladin’s pillow?”
“No,” said Cassandra, a puzzled expression on her face. “I remained in the Far East during the
Crusades. I found chivalry repulsive. What about Saladin?”
“I’ll tell you shortly,” said Jack, as the elevator stopped on Merlin’s floor. “First, it’s time to face
my mother.”
Steeling himself for the inevitable, Jack pushed open the door that read, Ambrose Ltd.,
Investments. As always, a brief smile flickered across his lips as he silently scanned the company motto
etched in black letters beneath the title. We Guarantee Your Future. Merlin used the best possible
method to back up his investment advice. He studied the future in his crystal ball.
“Johnnie!” Freda Collins’s voice had lost none of its earsplitting intensity in the year since Jack
had seen her last. As usual, the hug that followed squeezed the last breath of air from his lungs. Jack
stood six feel tall, and was slender and dark like his father. His mother matched him in height, but was
blonde, blue eyed, and big busted. Many people, seeing and hearing her for the first time, mistook her for
an opera singer. Or a lady wrestler.
After crushing his shoulders to a pulp, his mom thrust him an arm’s length away. “Still skinny as
ever,” she declared, with a laugh that shook the room. “Maybe married life will put a little meat on your
bones.”
Then she paused, catching her first sight of Cassandra, who stood frozen in the doorway. “You?”
said Freda, an odd note in her voice.
“You,” his mother repeated, this time not as a question, but as a statement of fact. Then she spat
out a word in an unknown tongue that sounded remarkably like a curse.
Jack’s eyes bulged. In all of his life, he could never once remember his mother swearing. But he
never recalled seeing the look of intense emotion that swept across her face as she stared at Cassandra.
“So you refer to yourself as Freda now,” said Cassandra, her own voice tight with suppressed
feelings. “Quite a change from the old days.”
“You are obviously the one called Cassandra,” said Jack’s mother. “I should have recognized
you from Merlin’s description. Though I assumed you long dead, food for the ravens.”
“As did I of you,” replied Cassandra. “Ripped to shreds on some battlefield by vultures.”
 With a savage howl, Freda Collins flung herself forward. To be met in midair by a screaming
Cassandra Cole. Arms locked around each other’s shoulders in an unbreakable grip. A few anxious
seconds went by before Jack realized that the two women were embracing. And laughing wildly.
“Uh, care to explain what the hell is going on?” he asked, wondering where Merlin and Megan
might he hiding. Not that he blamed them much for keeping out of the way. “I gather you two recognize
each other.”
“In the good old days,” said Cassandra, her face beaming, “we were best of friends. Many were
the times we fought side by side, slaughtering anyone foolish enough to cross our path.”
“Those were fine times,” nodded his mother in agreement. His mom, the one who baked