The Lagrangists. Mack Reynolds
Читать онлайн книгу.
“I’ll check this out,” he said. “Now, what is your position on the professor’s staff?”
Rex gave up. “I’ve become one of his research aides.”
“Researching what?”
“Look, pal, I know you’re just doing your job. So am I, but I’m pretty new at it. Couldn’t you just phone up the professor or Doctor Susie Hawkins, his personal secretary, and one of his research aides, and check me out?”
The other eyed him flatly. “So far you haven’t told me one damn’ thing.”
Rex said, “I’m a socioeconomist checking out some of the ramifications of the space colonization—whoops; of the space expedition, I mean. Casey warned me about that,” he added, with a smile intended to disarm.
The IABI man handed back the gun license. He obviously didn’t like even one piece of his puzzle. He said, “What would an economist need with a shooter?”
“I’m not sure; it was a job requirement,” Rex told him. “However, there are rats up in the penthouse.” He stooped again, took up his bag and got it into the elevator compartment. He announced the professor’s floor aloud.
“Carried out, sir,” the robot voice said.
When he was underway, Rex assessed the encounter and decided he had botched it miserably. “Shit,” he muttered.
The elevator said, “I beg your pardon, sir. Would you repeat that order?”
“Never mind,” Rex said, and gave the professor’s floor again.
“Carried out, sir.”
Susie showed him to his room, which looked like any standard room in a first class hotel. She left him to unpack telling him that they’d all meet later for dinner.
He put his bag onto the bed but didn’t open it yet. Instead, he went over to the small desk and sat down before the TV phone screen. He said, “I want this call scrambled.”
“Carried out,” the mechanical voice said.
He dialed the restricted number Mickoff had given him and the stocky IABI official faded in.
“You already, younger brother?” he said. “We were supposed to keep our communicating at a minimum.”
“Wizard, but something’s developed. When I was coming up here to the professor’s carrying my bag, I was stopped by a security man. He was suspicious and asked for my I.D., particularly when he spotted the fact that I was wearing the Gyro-jet pistol under my left arm. He wanted to know all about my job with Casey.”
“Who was he?”
“One of your boys. His name was Ron Peglor.”
John Mickoff eyed him. “How do you know that he was one of our men?”
“He showed me his IABI identification. Ron Peglor.”
John Mickoff said, very slowly, “I would very much like to study his I.D. at leisure, younger brother. We don’t have anybody named Ron Peglor stationed in New Princeton or anywhere else.”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.