[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

pleasant hours," he assured her as they left the lobby and hit the sun
bright street. "I'm assuming, however, that you'll want to go rushing off."
"Why, in heaven's name, would I rush off? Unless, which is, Generated by ABC
Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
I'm afraid, highly unlikely, I suddenly came to my senses and realized that I
was wasting my time and damaging my reputation by being in your disreputable
company?" "Oh, I figured because of the scoop." "What scoop?"
"The one growing out of the major news tip I'm about to pass on to you," he
explained.
THE LATE-AFTERNOON RAIN was pelting the plazdome that sheltered the wide oval
landing area next to Bernard Zangerly's mansion in the
Redondo Sector of Greater LA. Roger sat for a moment in his just-landed sky
car gazing absently downhill toward the choppy grey ocean.
Sighing, the husky man eased out of his car. Left eye narrowing, he stood
watching his father's house. The low, sprawling home looked especially dark
and gloomy this afternoon.
The neo wood front door swung open before his foot even hit the first red
plaztile step.
"Good afternoon, Master Roger," came a metallic voice from within the shadowy
foyer.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Climbing the seven red steps and crossing the threshold, Roger said, "You need
a tuneup, Lofting. Anyone over thirty isn't Master anymore."
"You'll always be a lad to me, sir." The butler was an early Mechanix model,
nearly twenty five years old, silver plated and dressed in a crisp black suit.
"If I may say so, Master Roger, we don't see you at all often enough these
days."
"I wouldn't even be here now, except that Dad apparently left the office early
today. Is he allright?"
The old robot tapped his metal chest. "Bit of a cold, sir." "I have to talk to
him."
"You'll find him in his den. I was unable to persuade him to go to bed."
Page 92
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Patting the robot on the shoulder, Roger moved along the hallway to the second
door on his left. He halted, knocking. "Yes, come on in, Rug."
His father didn't look especially well. His thin face had an odd bluish tinge
to it and the shadows beneath the eyes seemed deeper than usual. He was
sitting behind his desk, stiffly upright in the metal chair.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
To the left of the desk was a small bank of monitor screens, one of which
offered a view of the front steps.
"You look rotten," observed Roger as he sat in a chair facing the desk.
"Thanks, son." 'rek Sece
"Okay, I need to talk to you." He nodded at the bank of small screens.
"Turn all that stuff off so"
"What exactly is bothering you?"
"I'd like privacy before I go on, Dad." From a coat pocket he took the small
bug-detector. "If you don't mind, I'll--"
"Well, certainly I mind, Roger." Bernard flicked off the monitors and the
screens died. "This room isn't otherwise bugged.
Trust me."
Roger hesitated, then allowed the gadget to drop back away into a pocket. "I'd
hoped to have a chance to catch you at work,"
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
he said. "But maybe this is better."
"Is it Barry? Is your brother--"
"He's fine--fine considering all that's happened to me. But in a way this does
have to do with him."
Bernard leaned back in his chair. "I'm actually," he confided,
"not feeling all that well."
"Sorry to hear that, but there are some important questions that I
absolutely have to ask."
"If this is another quarrel between you and poor Barry concerning
Alicia, then perhaps--"
"Actually, Dad, it's about the Alicia android," his son cut in.
"See, I've been doing some checking in the Mechanix files and it turns out
you're the one who authorized Rob Stinson to activate the Alicia
Bower simulacrum that's kept stored at--"
"You don't have access to any of those files."
Page 93
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"Sure, I do." Roger smiled thinly. "Give me credit for knowing a few
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
tricks, huh?"
"But you're absolutely not supposed to go poking into--"
"Let's stick to the point, Dad. Just why did you order this guy to activate
that andy? Was it used in some kind of scheme to--"
"Are you saying that your father is involved in--"
"I'm saying that I want to know, have to know, what the hell has been going
on," he told him. "Alicia, I realize now, is in some sort of serious trouble.
Trouble that has spilled over and already hurt
Barry." He rose up out of his chair, jabbed a finger in his
father's direction. "Me, I'm aware, you've never much given a shit about. But,
hey, I thought you liked Barry. How could you let those bastards work him
over?"
"Ah, that's what's really annoying you, isn't it, Roger? Your halfassed notion
that I favor him over--"
"Forget that--just tell me about Rob Stinson."
Bernard shut his eyes for a few seconds. "Allright, this is the truth," he
said, opening them. "Stinson, who has, I might add, now
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
taken off for lord knows where, forged all those authorizations, every damn
one of them. He must have had some kind of crooked scheme in mind, possibly to
take advantage of Alicia's disappearance, but I have absolutely--"
"Bullshit. You phoned the guy at least a half dozen times."
"Yes, but that was after I suspected that he was up to something."
Roger backed away from the desk, eyes on his father. "You're in on this,
aren't you?" he said in a low, rasping voice. "Jesus, I'm not even sure what
the hell is in the works, but you know the whole fucking deal."
"I'm not in on a damn thing," insisted Bernard. "You have no right to come
here and accuse me, curse me and--"
"Sorry, Dad, but I just don't trust you." He made his way to the door.
"But--listen, I'm warning you. I mean to find out what is going on and just
what you have to do with it." He turned, left the room and slammed the door.
Bernard shook his head sadly, then nodded up at a spot on the right hand wall.
"Did you hear all that?" he asked.
SAM TRINITY STEPPED through the bright blue wall. As the panel slid
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
quietly shut behind him, he smoothed the jacket of his cream colored suit with
the fingers of the gunmetal hand he was wearing. The realeather case he was
Page 94
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
carrying in his other hand rattled slightly as he set it down on the white
chair next to the bright orange cot.
Sharon Harker gave a gasping moan, sitting up on the cot.
Turning slowly away from the wall, she saw the redhaired OCO agent standing
before her. "I'm not," she said in a weak, worn-down voice, "going to tell you
anything else."
"Sure you are, sweet." Reaching out with his metal fingers, he brushed a curl
of blonde hair back from her pale forehead. "Sure you are, so there's no use
acting like you aren't."
She tucked her bare legs up under her, pressing her slim back to the bright
blue wall. She was wearing only a wrinkled medical gown, bright yellow in
color, and it had several stains spread across the front.
Trinity held up his gunmetal hand toward her. "I didn't use this one on you
before, hon," he pointed out to her. "This is a brand-new one, far as you're
concerned. How are you feeling this afternoon?"
Sharon didn't answer.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Trinity said, "You're an intelligent woman, Dr. Harker. I
don't especially like intelligent women myself, even pretty ones like you. But
it's my conclusion, based on a hell of a lot of experience, that intelligent [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]