"Williamson,.Michael.Z.-.Freehold" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williamson Michael Z)

environment for an urbanite like herself, but it would be safe until
this resolved.

She gave one last searching thought to whether or not she should
do it. The millions of marks at stake made her believe that
scapegoats, bribes and various irregularities would be the end
result of this. She was sophisticated enough to realize that being
innocent would not protect her and being poor and of low rank
would make her a doormat. This was a chance to wait things out.
She reached for her phone, hesitated, then sought a public phone
and looked up the address.
* * *

In a suburb south of where Kendra had made her decision was the
embassy of the Freehold of Grainne. It was an old twenty-third-
century windowless block, surrounded by a wall and other, less
blatant, security measures. In a spacious office on the top floor, an
old discussion was being rehashed yet again.

Assistant for Policy Gunter Marx entered the office and informed
Citizen Ambassador Janine Maartens of the Freehold of Grainne,
"The UN is protesting our declaration of withdrawal again."

"Any new language?" was the bored return. Maartens' desk defied
the advantages of electronic data. It was strewn with notes, official
copies of documents, flash ram, memory cubes and assorted
other items in archeological layers by age in a display that clashed
with the spare blond paneling and carpet.

Marx said, "No. All the same as last year. John Abraham requests
a meeting with you to discuss the perceived inequalities. He is sure
we can find an agreeable solution."

"One that involves taxes, government interference, restrictions of
our personal rights 'for the public good,' and a seven-year plan for
the future, of course. Tell him I'm dead."

"Ma'am?"

She sat back and ran a hand through her graying waves of hair.
"You know what I mean, Gun. My regards to Secretary Abraham
and I'll call him at my earliest inconvenience. Right now I am
dealing with major industrialists and billions of credits are at stake. I
don't want to deal with an issue that should be seven years dead."

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed. He didn't envy her position and
wondered again why he'd elected to throw himself into the
bureaucratic rat maze. "Also: Warrant Leader McLaren says there
is a car across the street, occupied by a young blonde woman, that
has been there for most of a div. She is watching the gate."