"Destroyer 078 - Blue Smoke and Mirrors.pdb" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williams Remo)

"Process of elimination," Remo said quickly. "He's just eliminating a few of the less likely possibilities. He's very thorough. Honest."
"I don't believe in ghosts," Robin Green said firmly. "I never reported a ghost. I reported what I saw, nothing more, nothing less. I have a career with the Air Force, buster, and I'm not going to have my hard-earned clearances jerked because of some pint-sized Charlie Chan in a silk housedress."
"You are very excited for someone with nothing to hide," Chiun said levelly.
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Robin Green turned to find that the tiny Korean was suddenly behind her.
"Look," she told him. "It took me three solid days of convincing before they let me continue this investigation. I had to pull strings like crazy, and I would never have agreed to outside help, but it was either compromise or die. I like the Air Force. I want to stay in it. I don't want to end up in a rubber room because my superiors think I've been seeing spooks."
"Remo, please tell this woman to lower her voice," Chiun said imperiously. "She is disturbing the delicate vibrations of this room." He turned on his heel.
The Master of Sinanju made a circuit of the room, sniffing the air delicately.
"This is scientific?" Robin Green asked Remo.
"He has the nose of a bloodhound," Remo answered. "What do you smell, Little Father?"
Chiun's button nose wrinkled up. "Tobacco smoke. It is ruining everything."
"This was Risko's room," Robin explained. "He was a smoker. Poor guy."
"Did he die?" Remo asked.
"Worse. They put him in charge of special projects and transferred him to Loring Air Force Base."
"That doesn't sound so terrible."
"Special-projects duty is reserved for launch-control officers weirded-out from being down in the hole too long and other emotional basket cases the Air Force is afraid to turn loose on the civilian population."
"Oh," Remo said, understanding.
"Pah!" Chiun said in disgust, joining them in the corridor. "Take me to the other places."
At the walk-in freezer, Robin Green calmly explained how, on four successive nights, she had sat in front of the big stainless-steel door waiting for the thief. "No one ever came near the place," she said. "That door was never opened, not even to inspect it during my watch. Yet steaks were missing each time."
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Remo pulled on the freezer-door handle and looked in. The interior was like a refrigerator, except that a person could walk into it.
Robin Green took them to the rear, where the meats were racked. There were several thick steaks on a shelf.
"See?" she said, condensation coming from her mouth. "There's only one door. Only one way in or out. Yet somehow he-it . . . whoever-got in. And out again. It's purely impossible! How'd he pull it off, with blue smoke and mirrors?"
"Spirits do not smoke," Chiun muttered audibly as he stalked around the freezer, sniffing.
"Smell anything, Little Father?"
"No, it smells of dead animals. There is no live scent here."
"Never mind the scent," Robin Green spat. "What about getting in and out again? If there was ever a locked-room mystery in real life, this is it."
"This would pose no problem for a spirit," Chiun announced. "They are allowed to come and go as they desire. It is part of being a ghost."
"There he goes again," Robin said. She turned to Remo. "Look, you, tell me that this isn't going to turn into some kind of circus."
"Hey, don't talk to me, talk to him," Remo protested. "This is his show. I'm just an understudy."
"All right, you," Robin said, turning to Chiun. "Let's get this ghost thing out of the way right now. One: there is no such animal. No ghosts, no phantoms, no spooks, no specters or apparitions. Two: ghosts-even if they did exist-aren't substantial. They might be able to walk through a wall, but they sure can't lift a steak, any more than I could kiss a bear. And three: even if we allow for one and two, what would a ghost want with several porterhouse steaks, two pairs of size-thirty-two Calvin Klein stone-washed jeans, and an assortment of Minuteman missile parts ranging from
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a complete guidance package to an arming and fusing system?"
Chiun paused, his mouth half-open. He shut it. He frowned.
"She's got you there, Chiun."
Chiun lifted his troubled features.
"Show me the place from which these parts disappeared."
"Come on," Robin Green said, stomping off. Remo followed at a decorous distance.
"She is very excitable," Chiun remarked.
"You're one to talk. And what do you think of what she said? A ghost wouldn't have any use for all that stuff."
"Korean ghosts, no. American ghosts, about which I am less conversant, may be a different matter. When my investigation is completed, I may be able to offer a correct and reasonable explanation for why an American ghost would have a need for such things."
"That alone might be worth the trip," Remo said with a chuckle.
But his chuckle died as they followed Robin Green down the corridor. A Klaxon suddenly broke into song. And suddenly the halls were filled with running uniforms and worried faces.
Robin broke into a run. She flung herself into the FSC's office.
"What is it? What's happening?" she demanded.
"Trouble at Fox-4. We got a cooking bird!"
"Oh, my God!"
She pushed past Remo and Chiun as if they weren't there.
"Come on, Chiun," Remo called. They followed her out of the building. She jumped behind the wheel of Remo's jeep and got the starter working.
Remo jumped into the passenger seat, and as the jeep screeched around, heading for the gate, Remo shot a look back and saw that Chiun was running after