"E.Voiskunsky, I.Lukodyanov. The Crew Of The Mekong (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

leaving the slightest trace, as though it were made of thin air.
The first glimpse of the mysterious knife marked a turning point in the
life of the Benedictovs. Anatole determined to get to the root of the
mystery.
"Penetrability. The ability to pass through matter. That's the goal,
Rita. You say this knife has been in your family at least two hundred years?
Well, if they could make a knife that passes through matter you and I can
certainly do the same."
Anatole painted glowing pictures of Altered Matter which man could
easily control. Rita became enthusiastic too. She helped Anatole to set up
experiments and kept a record of their results.
Weeks and then months passed. Benedictov turned his study into a small
laboratory where, more and more frequently, he worked through the night. He
grew impatient and irritable. Rita noticed that his behaviour had become
strange. At times he would be depressed and sullen, and then he would
suddenly become his cheerful, energetic self again, capable of working for
days on end without resting. He fell into apathy just as suddenly.
Rita grew worried. She now realized that Anatole had taken on a job
that was too much for one man. But when she tentatively suggested that he
ought to let the Academy of Sciences know about his discovery he declared
that he could not do this until he himself got to the bottom of it. With
great difficulty she persuaded him to take her on a holiday cruise on the
Volga.
We already know how disastrously their holiday ended.
When the doorbell rang, Anatole jumped up but Rita got to the door
first. She opened it to Nikolai Opratin, who looked his usual dapper self in
an elegant grey suit. Bending his neatly combed head, he touched his cold
lips to Rita's hand and inquired after her health.
"I am in perfect health," Rita said, enunciating the words distinctly.
"Goodbye."
"Hold on, there. Where are you going?" Anatole asked.
"To the pictures." The door slammed shut and the two men were left
alone in the flat.
"All the better without her." Anatole growled, leading the way into his
study.
Nikolai Opratin cast a critical glance over the equipment. Then he
removed his jacket, carefully pulled up his trousers at the knees, and sank
into an armchair. Benedictov sat down opposite him.
"First, Anatole, I want you to tell me in detail about the knife,"
Opratin began.
He listened closely to Benedictov's account.
"Indian magic. If I hadn't seen it myself I wouldn't believe it.
Penetrability ends near the handle, you say?"
"Yes, there's a sort of intermediate zone of about six millimetres. The
part that goes into the handle is ordinary steel."
"Did you weigh the blade?"
"Yes. The weight corresponds to the size."
"That's extremely interesting. It means the knife behaves like ordinary
matter in the gravitational field."
"It seems to me," said Benedictov, "that the bonds between atoms, or