[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
"I don't think shooting him would do any good, Sergeant. They tried that back
in '82. They also tried drowning, stabbing, burning and electrocution. Nothing
doing. It's a tribute to the endurance of the human spirit, don't you think?"
They were nearly at the end of the row.
"Miss Doe, how are you?" Dr Proctor was courteous to the poisoner.
"Very well thank you, Ottokar. When are you going to come over and try some
of my home-baked apple pie? You're looking thin, you know. I'm sure you're not
eating properly."
"Maybe next week, ma'am. I'm a little tied up at the moment." Apologetically,
he lifted his manacled hands. "Thank you for the cinnamon cookies. They were
delicious."
Incredulously, Gilhooly asked, "You ate them cookies? After what she did?"
"She's no threat to me. Sergeant."
The cell nearest the door was Tendenter's.
"Rex, good to see you..."
Tendenter flashed his million-dollar smile. "Hey, doctor, how are you doing?"
"Can't complain."
"I've nearly finished that book you lent me. I'd like to talk to you about
the Greater Rhodesian economy sometime. I've had some thoughts about it I'd
like to share with you."
"That's a fascinating field, Rex. I'd like very much to confer with you, but
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my President calls..."
"That's okay, doctor, I understand."
"Otto-kar! Otto-kar! Otto-kar! Otto-kar! Otto-kar!"
"That's it," screamed Officer Kerr. "Lockdown in the booby hatch! No exercise
periods! No teevee! No porno!"
"Otto-kar! Otto-kar! Otto-kar! Otto-kar! Otto-kar!"
The door guard opened up, and Dr Proctor was bundled through. He tried to
wave goodbye to his peers, but the chain between his knees and his wrists was
too short.
The door slammed shut, and the soundproofing cut out the chants. The hospital
corridor was almost unnaturally quiet after Monsters' Row.
"Ahh," said Dr Proctor, "my public."
"Come on, Otto," said Gilhooly, dragging him.
"I believe you are being deliberately obtuse. Sergeant."
Gilhooly didn't reply. Dr Proctor did his best to keep up with the sergeant,
rattling his chains as he jogged down the corridor on his leash, like a good
dog. Bean kept up the rear, riot gun cradled like a baby in his beefy arms.
Dr Ottokar Proctor liked dogs, cartoons, Italian opera, Carl Jung, French
food, Disneyworld, The New York Times Review of Books, pre-Columbian art, good
wine, walks in the park on Sundays, horse-racing, Percy Bysshe Shelley, the
romantic novels of Margaret Thatcher, and killing people.
They were waiting for him in the conference room. F. X. Wicking of the T-H-R
Agency, Julian Russell from the Treasury, and a dark-faced man he didn't
recognize.
"Good morning, gentlemen," he said.
"Dr Proctor," said Russell, "can we get you anything?"
Dr Proctor chinked as he shrugged. "My freedom would be nice."
Wicking sighed and dropped his papers. This was going to be just like all the
other meetings, he was thinking. He was wrong.
Dr Proctor sank into the specially-adapted, floor-rooted chair, and Bean
padlocked his chains to the spine.
A secretary came in with coffee. She did her best not to look at Dr Proctor.
He was reminded of the girl in the Coupe de Ville between Coronado Beach and
Chula Vista three years ago. The one who had lasted for two nights and a day.
She put cups in front of the delegates, and handed Gilhooly a child's
dribble-proof plastic container. The sergeant propped it on Dr Proctor's
shoulder-shackles, and angled the nipple so he could suck it, snarling as he
did so.
"Thank you, sergeant." He took a mouthful. "Ahh, real coffee. Nicaraguan?"
Nobody answered. Russell spooned three loads of sugar into his cup.
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"Watch your blood sugar levels, Julian," cautioned Dr Proctor. "You could be
cruising into heart-attack country."
Wicking pulled out his filofax, and switched it on. It hummed as the
miniscreen lit up. The Op would be in contact with his home base throughout
this consultation.
"How is Ms Harvest?" Dr Proctor asked. "Well, I hope." Wicking snorted. "I do
wish she wouldn't take so many unnecessary risks out in the field. I've been
following her stats, Francis. The odds get shorter every time she takes a solo
action. She should never have come for me alone, you know."
"She got you, didn't she?" Wicking wasn't giving anything away.
"Yes, of course, but she had an unfair advantage."
"And what's that, Ottokar?"
Dr Proctor smiled sweetly. "Let me put it this way, what's the difference
between Redd Harvest and, say, Jessamyn Bonney?"
The dark man reacted to the dropped name, as Dr Proctor had known he would.
"Bonney? The psycho-killer?" said Wicking. "I've no idea."
"A badge, Francis. A badge."
Wicking didn't laugh. Dr Proctor drank some more coffee. Russell snapped a
digestive biscuit in half, and dipped it in his cup.
"I suppose a cookie is out of the question? Ah well, we live with
disappointments."
Dr Proctor gave some thought to the dark man, and smiled. He realized that
this was the meeting he had been waiting for ever since the trial.
"Tell me, how are they running at Santa Anita?"
Nobody knew.
"Well, we ought perhaps to get down to business then."
Russell brought out a sheaf of papers. The dark man sat calmly, examining Dr
Proctor. He was taking the man's measure at the same time. This meeting would [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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"I don't think shooting him would do any good, Sergeant. They tried that back
in '82. They also tried drowning, stabbing, burning and electrocution. Nothing
doing. It's a tribute to the endurance of the human spirit, don't you think?"
They were nearly at the end of the row.
"Miss Doe, how are you?" Dr Proctor was courteous to the poisoner.
"Very well thank you, Ottokar. When are you going to come over and try some
of my home-baked apple pie? You're looking thin, you know. I'm sure you're not
eating properly."
"Maybe next week, ma'am. I'm a little tied up at the moment." Apologetically,
he lifted his manacled hands. "Thank you for the cinnamon cookies. They were
delicious."
Incredulously, Gilhooly asked, "You ate them cookies? After what she did?"
"She's no threat to me. Sergeant."
The cell nearest the door was Tendenter's.
"Rex, good to see you..."
Tendenter flashed his million-dollar smile. "Hey, doctor, how are you doing?"
"Can't complain."
"I've nearly finished that book you lent me. I'd like to talk to you about
the Greater Rhodesian economy sometime. I've had some thoughts about it I'd
like to share with you."
"That's a fascinating field, Rex. I'd like very much to confer with you, but
Page 87
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
my President calls..."
"That's okay, doctor, I understand."
"Otto-kar! Otto-kar! Otto-kar! Otto-kar! Otto-kar!"
"That's it," screamed Officer Kerr. "Lockdown in the booby hatch! No exercise
periods! No teevee! No porno!"
"Otto-kar! Otto-kar! Otto-kar! Otto-kar! Otto-kar!"
The door guard opened up, and Dr Proctor was bundled through. He tried to
wave goodbye to his peers, but the chain between his knees and his wrists was
too short.
The door slammed shut, and the soundproofing cut out the chants. The hospital
corridor was almost unnaturally quiet after Monsters' Row.
"Ahh," said Dr Proctor, "my public."
"Come on, Otto," said Gilhooly, dragging him.
"I believe you are being deliberately obtuse. Sergeant."
Gilhooly didn't reply. Dr Proctor did his best to keep up with the sergeant,
rattling his chains as he jogged down the corridor on his leash, like a good
dog. Bean kept up the rear, riot gun cradled like a baby in his beefy arms.
Dr Ottokar Proctor liked dogs, cartoons, Italian opera, Carl Jung, French
food, Disneyworld, The New York Times Review of Books, pre-Columbian art, good
wine, walks in the park on Sundays, horse-racing, Percy Bysshe Shelley, the
romantic novels of Margaret Thatcher, and killing people.
They were waiting for him in the conference room. F. X. Wicking of the T-H-R
Agency, Julian Russell from the Treasury, and a dark-faced man he didn't
recognize.
"Good morning, gentlemen," he said.
"Dr Proctor," said Russell, "can we get you anything?"
Dr Proctor chinked as he shrugged. "My freedom would be nice."
Wicking sighed and dropped his papers. This was going to be just like all the
other meetings, he was thinking. He was wrong.
Dr Proctor sank into the specially-adapted, floor-rooted chair, and Bean
padlocked his chains to the spine.
A secretary came in with coffee. She did her best not to look at Dr Proctor.
He was reminded of the girl in the Coupe de Ville between Coronado Beach and
Chula Vista three years ago. The one who had lasted for two nights and a day.
She put cups in front of the delegates, and handed Gilhooly a child's
dribble-proof plastic container. The sergeant propped it on Dr Proctor's
shoulder-shackles, and angled the nipple so he could suck it, snarling as he
did so.
"Thank you, sergeant." He took a mouthful. "Ahh, real coffee. Nicaraguan?"
Nobody answered. Russell spooned three loads of sugar into his cup.
Page 88
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"Watch your blood sugar levels, Julian," cautioned Dr Proctor. "You could be
cruising into heart-attack country."
Wicking pulled out his filofax, and switched it on. It hummed as the
miniscreen lit up. The Op would be in contact with his home base throughout
this consultation.
"How is Ms Harvest?" Dr Proctor asked. "Well, I hope." Wicking snorted. "I do
wish she wouldn't take so many unnecessary risks out in the field. I've been
following her stats, Francis. The odds get shorter every time she takes a solo
action. She should never have come for me alone, you know."
"She got you, didn't she?" Wicking wasn't giving anything away.
"Yes, of course, but she had an unfair advantage."
"And what's that, Ottokar?"
Dr Proctor smiled sweetly. "Let me put it this way, what's the difference
between Redd Harvest and, say, Jessamyn Bonney?"
The dark man reacted to the dropped name, as Dr Proctor had known he would.
"Bonney? The psycho-killer?" said Wicking. "I've no idea."
"A badge, Francis. A badge."
Wicking didn't laugh. Dr Proctor drank some more coffee. Russell snapped a
digestive biscuit in half, and dipped it in his cup.
"I suppose a cookie is out of the question? Ah well, we live with
disappointments."
Dr Proctor gave some thought to the dark man, and smiled. He realized that
this was the meeting he had been waiting for ever since the trial.
"Tell me, how are they running at Santa Anita?"
Nobody knew.
"Well, we ought perhaps to get down to business then."
Russell brought out a sheaf of papers. The dark man sat calmly, examining Dr
Proctor. He was taking the man's measure at the same time. This meeting would [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]