JК
The Stars My Destination ( Tiger! Tiger! ) :: Bester Alfred
Страница: 48 из 164That's wrong, isn't it, Jiz?' Just plain:
'When we meet.' Period.»
«Good boy.»
«We will meet some day, won't we, Jiz?»
«Soon, I hope, Gully.» Jisbella's faraway voice became crisp and businesslike. «But we've got to stop hoping and get down to work. We've got to plan and prepare.»
From the underworld, Jisbella had inherited a mass of information about Gouffre Martel. No one had ever jaunted out of the cavern hospitals, but for decades the underworld had been collecting and collating information about them. It was from this data that Jisbella had formed her quick recognition of the Whisper Line that joined them. It was on the basis of this information that she began to discuss escape.
«We can pull it off, Gully. Never doubt that for a minute. There must be dozens of loopholes in their security system.»
«No one's ever found them before.»
«No one's ever worked with a partner before. We'll pool our information and we'll make it.»
He no longer shambled to Sanitation and back. He felt the corridor walls, noted doors, noted their texture, counted, listened, deduced, and reported. He made a note of every separate step in the Sanitation pens and reported them to Jiz. The questions he whispered to the men around him in the shower and scrub rooms had purpose. Together, Foyle and Jisbella built up a picture of the routine of Gouffre Martel and its security system.
One morning, on the return from Sanitation, he was stopped as he was about to step back into his cell.
«Stay in line, Foyle.»
«This is North-ui i. I know where to get off by now.»
«Keep moving.»
«But…” He was terrified. «You're changing me?»
«Visitor to see you.»
He was marched up to the end of the north corridor where it met the three other main corridors that formed the huge cross of the hospital. In the center of the cross were the administration offices, maintenance workshops, clinics, and plants. Foyle was thrust into a room, as dark as his cell. The door was shut behind him. He became aware of a faint shimmering outline in the blackness. It was no more than the ghost of an image with a blurred body and a death's head. Two black discs on the skull face were either eye sockets or infrared goggles.
«Good morning,» said Saul Dagenham.
«You?» Foyle exclaimed.
«Me. I've got five minutes. Sit down. Chair behind you.»
Foyle felt for the chair and sat down slowly.
«Enjoying yourself?» Dagenham inquired.
'When we meet.' Period.»
«Good boy.»
«We will meet some day, won't we, Jiz?»
«Soon, I hope, Gully.» Jisbella's faraway voice became crisp and businesslike. «But we've got to stop hoping and get down to work. We've got to plan and prepare.»
From the underworld, Jisbella had inherited a mass of information about Gouffre Martel. No one had ever jaunted out of the cavern hospitals, but for decades the underworld had been collecting and collating information about them. It was from this data that Jisbella had formed her quick recognition of the Whisper Line that joined them. It was on the basis of this information that she began to discuss escape.
«We can pull it off, Gully. Never doubt that for a minute. There must be dozens of loopholes in their security system.»
«No one's ever found them before.»
«No one's ever worked with a partner before. We'll pool our information and we'll make it.»
He no longer shambled to Sanitation and back. He felt the corridor walls, noted doors, noted their texture, counted, listened, deduced, and reported. He made a note of every separate step in the Sanitation pens and reported them to Jiz. The questions he whispered to the men around him in the shower and scrub rooms had purpose. Together, Foyle and Jisbella built up a picture of the routine of Gouffre Martel and its security system.
One morning, on the return from Sanitation, he was stopped as he was about to step back into his cell.
«Stay in line, Foyle.»
«This is North-ui i. I know where to get off by now.»
«Keep moving.»
«But…” He was terrified. «You're changing me?»
«Visitor to see you.»
He was marched up to the end of the north corridor where it met the three other main corridors that formed the huge cross of the hospital. In the center of the cross were the administration offices, maintenance workshops, clinics, and plants. Foyle was thrust into a room, as dark as his cell. The door was shut behind him. He became aware of a faint shimmering outline in the blackness. It was no more than the ghost of an image with a blurred body and a death's head. Two black discs on the skull face were either eye sockets or infrared goggles.
«Good morning,» said Saul Dagenham.
«You?» Foyle exclaimed.
«Me. I've got five minutes. Sit down. Chair behind you.»
Foyle felt for the chair and sat down slowly.
«Enjoying yourself?» Dagenham inquired.