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“sdelai literaturnyi perevod fragmenta: On the sixth day the first body to be rec” (1 conversations)
toxic
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Feb 20, 2024 at 4:40 PM MSK
Russia
USER
sdelai literaturnyi perevod fragmenta: On the sixth day the first body to be recovered was that of a one-yearold baby. One of the divers found it half-sunk in the muddy river bottom. It was still muddy when it came up, but those parts of it that were clean showed ruddy pink, healthy-looking flesh. Seeing it lying on the floor of the temporary morgue, it became for McCarthy and his colleagues the truly tragic image of the entire affair, an image that they would surely never forget. The weather had warmed, and a fine mist caused by the river's melting ice steamed upward from the surface. They had opened both lanes of the Fourteenth Street Bridge to traffic again and had reduced the number of personnel needed for the operation. The crane had brought up the front end of the plane, including the cockpit with the bodies of the pilot and co-pilot. A blowtorch had to be used to extract the co-pilot. By the end of the day there were still five bodies to be recovered, as well as some additional personal property stuck in what had been the overhead racks. The entire load of baggage in the hold had been recovered and painstakingly assembled in a room outside the Medical Examiner's office. Most of it had been identified and released to relatives. Nothing in the baggage offered the slightest clue as to the identity of Jane Doe, and no one had stepped forward to inquire. Her body still lay on a tray in the refrigerator of the Medical Examiner's office. McCarthy checked the passenger list for the remaining names of the bodies. In addition to Mr. and Mrs. Marlboro, there was an elderly couple in their seventies, whose children still waited for word at the Marriott, and a teenager, whose parents were also on hand. But no one had stepped forward to claim the Marlboros. With only five bodies still to be recovered, the emergency homicide team was broken up the next morning. Most of the group was reassigned. Because of the open nature of the Jane Doe ident, McCarthy and his partner Forbes were assigned to remain with the operation. They were both bachelors and therefore natural candidates for the job. The past week had been hell on family life, and the captain of Homicide, satisfied that his staff had done a superb job, had a fit of magnanimity. Besides, it was Sunday. McCarthy arrived at daybreak at the ribbon bridge, as he had done for the past six days. Wally Forbes brought a jug of coffee and a bag of sticky buns, which they drank and ate while the divers went down for what they all hoped would be the last time. The first body to be brought up was that of the teenager, which they quickly bagged and identified. Then came the older woman, followed by two males--one about seventy, the other in his mid-thirties. Both bodies had lodged behind a small section of fuselage that had inexplicably broken off from the main body of the aircraft. They quickly identified the older man. After his body was bagged and labeled, they tackled the younger man. McCarthy went through the man's pockets and extracted his wallet. "Marlboro?" "New face in the crowd. Man by the name of Simpson. Lives in McLean." "Then where's Marlboro?" Forbes asked. "Could be an alias," McCarthy said. "It says on the sheet Mr. and Mrs." "That's it," one of the divers said, scrambling onto the ribbon bridge. "Nothing else down there but some stray baggage." He slid off the bridge back into the murky water. "Leaves Jane Doe," McCarthy said. "The missus," Forbes snickered. "Maybe." People travel under aliases, McCarthy thought. He always rejected the obvious first, leaving that for last. There were numerous possibilities. If they were genuine cheaters, why not single aliases? Why travel married? They might be a team of some sort, working a scam, establishing married credentials from the beginning, just in case. Maybe they were traveling on someone else's ticket? Maybe they didn't know each other at all and were merely taking advantage of a stray ticket? And maybe they really were married? He mentally thumbed through the possibilities without conviction. He was too familiar with marital betrayal. Six years later it still burned in his gut and resurrected the old helpless feelings, the ugly images. He had caught them, his wife and best friend, the centerpiece of all that was sacred in his life. It was a violation that he could not live with, and even now the fires of the old hatred burned as hot and bright as ever.
CHATBOT
Na shestoi den' pervym obnaruzhennym telom stalo telo godovalogo rebionka. Odin iz vodolazov nashiol ego poluutonuvshim v ile u rechnogo dna. Kogda ego podniali na poverkhnost', malysh byl eshchio griaznyi, no tam, gde griaz' smoilas', mozhno bylo uvidet' krasnovatuiu, zdorovyi vid imeiushchuiu kozhu. Kogda oni uvideli ego, lezhashchego na polu vremennogo morga, eta kartina stala dlia Makkarti i ego kolleg nastoiashchim tragicheskim obrazom vsego proisshestviia -- obrazom, kotoryi oni, veroiatno, nikogda ne smogut zabyt'. Pogoda poteplela, i ot taiushchikh l'dov reki vzdymalsia liogkii tuman. Chetyrnadtsataia ulitsa snova byla polnost'iu otkryta dlia dvizheniia, i kolichestvo personala, uchastvuiushchego v operatsii, bylo umen'sheno. S pomoshch'iu krana na poverkhnost' podniali nosovuiu chast' samoliota, vkliuchaia kabinu pilotov s telami pilota i vtorogo pilota. Chtoby izvlech' telo vtorogo pilota, prishlos' ispol'zovat' gorelku. K kontsu dnia ostavalos' obnaruzhit' eshchio piat' tel, a takzhe nekotorye veshchi, zastriavshie tam, gde ran'she byli ruchnye kladi. Vsio bagazhnoe otdelenie bylo akkuratno provereno i sobrano v komnate okolo ofisa medeksperta. Bol'shinstvo veshchei bylo identifitsirovano i peredano rodstvennikam. No sredi bagazha nichego ne ukazyvalo na lichnost' neopoznannoi zhenshchiny, i nikto ne sprashival o nei. Eio telo vsio eshchio lezhalo na podnose v kholodil'nike meditsinskogo eksperta. Makkarti proverial spisok passazhirov v poiskakh imen ostavshikhsia tel. Pomimo mistera i missis Marlboro, tam byla para pozhilykh liudei za sem'desiat, ch'i deti do sikh por zhdali izvestii v otele Marriott, i podrostok, ch'i roditeli tozhe byli nepodalioku. No nikto ne ob'iavlialsia, chtoby zabrat' Marlboro. Poskol'ku ostavalos' naiti vsego piat' tel, na sleduiushchee utro komanda ekstrennykh ubiistv byla rasformirovana. Bol'shinstvo chlenov gruppy byli perevedeny na drugie zadaniia. Iz-za neprozrachnosti identifikatsii neopoznannoi zhenshchiny Makkarti i ego partnioru Forbsu poruchili prodolzhit' uchastie v operatsii. Oba byli kholostiakami, chto avtomaticheski delalo ikh prirodnymi kandidatami na etu rabotu. Proshedshaia nedelia prevratilas' v ad dlia semeinoi zhizni, i kapitan ubiistv, dovol'nyi tem, chto ego personal prodelal otlichnuiu rabotu, reshil proiavit' velikodushie. K tomu zhe nastupilo voskresen'e. Makkarti pribyl na most-lentu na rassvete, kak i v predydushchie shest' dnei. Uolli Forbs prinios kuvshin kofe i paket kleikikh bulochek, kotorymi oni ugoshchalis', poka vodolazy spuskalis' vniz v nadezhde, chto eto budet poslednii raz. Pervym podniatym telom okazalos' telo podrostka, kotoroe oni bystren'ko zapakovali i opoznali. Zatem poiavilas' starshaia zhenshchina, za nei posledovali dvoe muzhchin -- odnomu okolo semidesiati, drugomu v seredine tridtsati. Oba tela byli zazhaty za nebol'shim ostatkom fiuzeliazha, kotoryi zagadochnym obrazom otorvalsia ot osnovnoi chasti samoliota. Oni bystro opoznali pozhilogo muzhchinu. Posle togo kak ego telo bylo upakovano i markirovano, oni prinialis' za molodogo muzhchinu. Makkarti prosmotrel ego karmany i izvliok kosheliok. "Marlboro?" "Novyi passazhir po spisku. Muzhchina po imeni Simpson. Zhiviot v Makline." "Tak gde zhe Marlboro?" sprosil Forbs. "Mozhet byt', psevdonim," skazal Makkarti. "V spiskakh mister i missis." "Vot ono," skazal odin iz vodolazov, vybravshis' na most-lentu. "Tam vnizu bol'she nichego net, krome rasteriannogo bagazha." On skol'znul obratno v mutnuiu vodu. "Ostaiotsia neopoznannaia zhenshchina," skazal Makkarti. "Zhena," usmekhnulsia Forbs. "Vozmozhno." Liudi puteshestvuiut pod vymyshlennymi imenami, razmyshlial Makkarti. On vsegda otvergal ochevidnoe v pervuiu ochered', ostavliaia eto na potom. Byli mnogochislennye vozmozhnosti. Esli oni byli nastoiashchimi moshennikami, pochemu ne ispol'zovat' odinochnye psevdonimy? Zachem puteshestvovat' kak suprugi? Mozhet byt', oni sostavliali komandu kakogo-to roda, zabotias' o sozdanii semeinogo statusa s samogo nachala, na vsiakii sluchai. Mozhet byt', oni puteshestvovali po chuzhim biletam? Vozmozhno, oni voobshche drug druga ne znali i prosto vospol'zovalis' ch'im-to poteriannym biletom? A mozhet byt', oni na samom dele byli zhenaty? On myslenno probezhalsia po vsem etim versiiam bez osoboi uverennosti. On slishkom khorosho znal predatel'stvo v brake. Dazhe spustia shest' let eto vsio eshchio zhglo ego iznutri i vozrozhdalo staroe chuvstvo bespomoshchnosti, merzkie obrazy. On zastukal ikh, svoiu zhenu i luchshego druga, tsentr vsego sviatogo v ego zhizni. Eto bylo narusheniem, s kotorym on ne mog smirit'sia, i dazhe seichas plamia staroi nenavisti gorelo tak zhe iarko i goriacho, kak i prezhde.
USER
eshche fragment: What had been an oasis suddenly became a mirage. Even the most work-hardened homicide detective needed one soft place to keep his humanity alive. Billie had been that place. Sweetheart, mother, and friend. Three months earlier they had had Timmy, light of his life, named for the dad he loved, the old Cap. "Couldn't be mine!" he had shouted, beating his fists into her face. "I swear. I swear!" she had cried. Even when she had begged him to understand, on her knees on the floor of the motel room, hands clasped in prayer, face distorted in tearful agony, he had turned away, the soft part forever hardened to impenetrable rock. When trust dies, everything, the whole system, goes down the drain. No explanations needed. No apologies required. The betrayal had badly damaged his faith in his own instincts. How was it possible that he could not see through the elaborate subterfuge of his wife's betrayal? It had happened directly in his field of vision. Jim, his friend, his neighbor, his drinking buddy. How long had it gone on? Would he ever know? The wound, he knew, would never heal. It distorted his entire life, his self-image, his relationship with his children. Could he vouch for the two oldest? Nothing was ever the same again. No! Mr. and Mrs. Calvin Marlboro were no mystery. None at all. They zipped up the bag covering the body of Orson Simpson. As they did so, one of the divers came up and dropped some tote bags and a woman's leather pocketbook on the deck of the ribbon bridge. He fingered the damp leather skin of the bag. Certain it was Jane Doe's handbag, he put it in a small plastic bag. He sent the other baggage and the four bodies back to the Medical Examiner's office. Because this was the last of it, he stayed with the others as they dismantled their equipment, including the temporary morgue. When everything had been loaded, one of the divers opened a bottle of Scotch and passed it around as a kind of farewell toast. There wasn't much talk. It was already dark when he and Forbes got back to the Medical Examiner's office. "Wanna knock off for the day?" Forbes asked. "You go," McCarthy said. "I'll hang out here for a while." Forbes watched him for a moment, then shrugged a good-bye. They were partners but not intimates. McCarthy had seen to that. Everyone around him knew how high McCarthy had built his wall. He grunted a good-bye as Forbes sauntered off. When he had gone, McCarthy spilled the moist contents of Jane Doe's handbag onto one of the metal tables. There were the usual personal objects of a woman's life: makeup, wallet, key ring, money, perfume, a half-filled tube of mints, scattered small change. The woman's name was Lily Corsini Davis. It was all there on the various identification cards: her driver's license, an American Express card, her medical plan card from Woodies. On some of the IDs she was Mrs. Edward Nelson Davis. Her address was on "Q" Street in Georgetown. Five foot three, 120 pounds, hair black, eyes brown. The small driver's license photo showed a dark prettiness, perhaps beauty. He checked the details on the license against the height, weight, and body description provided by the Medical Examiner's report. There was no doubt about her identity. But there was nothing in the contents to suggest any connection with the man. On another part of the metal table he spread out what had been removed from the pockets of the man's clothing: a wallet, a pile of bills in a money clip, some coins, a leather key case, seven different credit cards, a driver's license, a photograph of a young boy. The license told him that the man's name was Orson Oscar Simpson, age thirty-five, 180 pounds, six foot three, brown hair, brown eyes-- facts already partly deduced from a visual inspection of the body. There was an address in McLean.
CHATBOT
To, chto kazalos' oazisom, vnezapno prevratilos' v mirazh. Dazhe samomu zakalionnomu v rabote detektivu po ubiistvam nuzhno bylo ubezhishche, gde on mog by sokhranit' svoio chelovechestvo. Dlia Billi eto ubezhishche bylo im samim. Liubimaia, mat' i drug. Tri mesiatsa nazad oni poluchili Timmi, svet ego zhizni, nazvannogo v chest' ego liubimogo ottsa, starogo Kepa. "Ne mozhet byt' moim!" -- krichal on, biv kulakami po eio litsu. "Klianus', klianus'!" -- plakala ona. Dazhe kogda ona umoliala ego poniat', stoia na koleniakh na polu motel'noi komnaty, ruki slozhennye v molitve, litso iskazheno muchitel'nymi slezami, on otvernulsia, i ego miagkaia storona navsegda zatverdela do neprobivaemoi skaly. Kogda doverie umiraet, vsio, vsia sistema, smyvaetsia v kanalizatsiiu. Ob'iasneniia ne trebuiutsia. Izvineniia ne nuzhny. Predatel'stvo sil'no podorvalo ego veru v sobstvennye instinkty. Kak takoe vozmozhno, chto on ne mog raspoznat' izoshchrionnyi obman zheny? On proiskhodil priamo na ego glazakh. Dzhim, ego drug, sosed, partnior po vypivke. Kak dolgo eto prodolzhalos'? Uznaet li on kogda-nibud'? Ranu, kak on znal, ne zazhivit'. Ona iskazila vsiu ego zhizn', ego samooshchushchenie, otnosheniia s det'mi. Mog li on poruchit'sia za dvoikh starshikh? Nichto uzhe nikogda ne bylo po-prezhnemu. Net! Mister i missis Kelvin Marlboro nikakoi zagadki ne predstavliali. Niskol'ko. Oni zastegnuli molniiu na sumke, pokryvaiushchei telo Orsona Simpsona. Kak tol'ko eto bylo sdelano, odin iz vodolazov vynyrnul i brosil na palubu mosta-lenty neskol'ko sumok i zhenskuiu kozhanuiu sumochku. On potrogal vlazhnuiu kozhu sumki. Ubedivshis', chto eto sumochka Dzhein Dou, on polozhil eio v malen'kii plastikovyi paket. On otpravil ostal'noi bagazh i chetyre tela obratno v kabinet meditsinskogo eksperta. Poskol'ku eto bylo vsio, chto ostavalos', on ostalsia s drugimi, poka oni razbirali svoio oborudovanie, vkliuchaia vremennyi morg. Kogda vsio bylo upakovano, odin iz vodolazov otkryl butylku shotlandskogo viski i protianul ego v kachestve proshchal'nogo tosta. Razgovora pochti ne bylo. Kogda on i Forbs vernulis' v kabinet medeksperta, uzhe stemnelo. "Smotrish' za mnoi segodnia?" -- sprosil Forbs. "Ty idi," -- skazal Makkarti. "Ia eshchio zdes' pobudu." Forbs posmotrel na nego mgnovenie, zatem pozhal plechami v znak proshchaniia. Oni byli naparnikami, no ne druz'iami. Makkarti pozabotilsia ob etom. Kazhdyi vokrug nego znal, kak vysoko Makkarti vozviol svoiu stenu. On burknul "do svidaniia", kogda Forbs otoshiol. Kogda Forbs ushiol, Makkarti vysypal vlazhnoe soderzhimoe sumochki Dzhein Dou na odin iz metallicheskikh stolov. Tam byli obychnye lichnye veshchi, kharakternye dlia zhenskoi zhizni: kosmetika, kosheliok, sviazka kliuchei, den'gi, dukhi, napolovinu ispol'zovannaia tuba miatnykh konfet, rassypannaia meloch'. Imia zhenshchiny bylo Lili Korsini Devis. Eto bylo zapisano na razlichnykh udostovereniiakh lichnosti: voditel'skie prava, karta American Express, medkarta iz Vudiz. V nekotorykh udostovereniiakh ona byla missis Edvarda Nel'sona Devis. Eio adres byl na ulitse "Q" v Dzhordzhtaune. Rost piat' futov tri diuima, ves 120 funtov, volosy chiornye, glaza korichnevye. Nebol'shoe foto na voditel'skikh pravakh pokazyvalo tiomnuiu privlekatel'nost', vozmozhno, krasotu. On sveril detali s pravami s rostom, vesom i opisaniem tela, predostavlennym v otchiote meditsinskogo eksperta. O eio lichnosti ne moglo byt' nikakikh somnenii. No v soderzhimom ne bylo nichego, chto moglo by sviazat' eio s muzhchinoi. Na drugoi chasti metallicheskogo stola on razlozhil to, chto bylo izvlecheno iz karmanov odezhdy muzhchiny: kosheliok, pachka banknot v denezhnoi skrepke, neskol'ko monet, kozhanyi brelok dlia kliuchei, sem' raznykh kreditnykh kart, voditel'skie prava, fotografiia molodogo mal'chika. Prava govorili emu, chto imia muzhchiny bylo Orson Oskar Simpson, 35 let, ves 180 funtov, rost shest' futov tri diuima, volosy korichnevye, glaza korichnevye -- fakty, chastichno uzhe predpolozhennye pri vizual'nom osmotre tela. Byl adres v Makline.
USER
eshche fragment: A fragile, waterlogged ticket confirmed that the man was indeed the Calvin Marlboro of the passenger list, which meant by a process of elimination that the woman was most likely, although not completely confirmed, Mrs. Marlboro. Unless there was another body around, this just had to be the missing woman. The unused remaining ticket indicated a Miami return four days from the date of takeoff, three days previous. He felt an odd twinge of psychic pain but let it pass. Somebody out there must be sick with worry. With painstaking thoroughness he went through the contents of the recovered tote bags. In each tote bag were summer clothes and the usual toiletries, each defining a gender. Still there was no obvious connection. In the woman's small toiletry duffel bag, he found what he assumed were the usual toiletries. Nothing unusual, even to his trained detective's eye. He fingered the water-logged bills in the man's money clip, extracted them and counted nine hundred and thirty dollars, including eight hundred-dollar bills. It seemed like a great deal of cash for a four-day trip, considering the number of credit cards. A bit of circumstantial deduction, he thought. A cheater would not use the cards. Cash only. No records. In theory, there was little doubt in his mind that the two were connected. Somewhere, perhaps among the objects spread on the table, was hard evidence of the connection. Why search for it, he wondered? Unless it led to a conclusion of foul play in terms of the crash itself. Others were pursuing that end of the investigation. So far they had recovered the little black box of pre-crash tapes, and he had heard that the salvaged pieces of the plane were being assembled in a heavily guarded hangar. It would, nevertheless, disturb him if something were overlooked--murder for insurance or revenge or political advantage. The stuff of thrillers, to be sure, but possible, quite possible. In this case the devastation to the living was profound. The bastards, he thought, feeling the anger well up inside him, his suspicion concentrated impotently in a dark void. "All wrapped up?" From behind him he heard the familiar voice of Southair's young vice-president, Jack Farnsworth. The man looked pale and haggard, worse than he had ever seen him. "Seems to be." "The Marlboros?" "A facsimile thereof." McCarthy provided the terse information on the identification. "How do you read it?" Farnsworth asked. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. "Except for conjecture, there is no conclusive connection." McCarthy paused. "Not yet. Is it possible that there are two bodies still not accounted for?" "We've been assured that there are no more bodies on the bottom, and the numbers check out." "Then it has to be them," McCarthy said. Unconsciously, he put the woman's key ring around one of his fingers and twirled it. "Doesn't matter," Farnsworth sighed. "It does to their spouses." "Maybe they know all about it. Maybe they don't really care." "They care," McCarthy said with some embarrassment. "Wouldn't they have called Missing Persons?" "Maybe. It's a drastic step, and most people don't call until desperation, which should be just about setting in." Farnsworth sighed. "Nasty business," he said. "Are you sure?" "In my gut," McCarthy admitted. "Now comes the worst part. The telling." "Damn," Farnsworth said, growing more ashen. "Complications. My job is to tie up all loose ends as fast as possible." He lifted sad eyes that locked into McCarthy's. "Does the media have to know--I mean, if there's no foul play, no real negligence, nothing relevant? Death is final. Scandal goes on." "You're right there," McCarthy said, showing Farnsworth a policeman's hearty distaste for the media. "Besides, there might not be a connection after all. Why make assumptions without absolute proof?" McCarthy snickered. He liked the young man. "Not absolute," he said. "And we still have nothing definite on the cause of the crash." "So why sprinkle skunk juice on the roses?" "Right." It was then that the keys he had been twirling gave him an idea, and he opened the man's leather key case and compared keys.
CHATBOT
Tonkii, promokshii bilet podtverdil, chto chelovek deistvitel'no byl Kelvinom Marlboro iz spiska passazhirov, chto oznachalo, chto, iskliuchaia prochie varianty, zhenshchina byla, skoree vsego, khotia i ne sovsem podtverzhdionnoi, missis Marlboro. Esli ne bylo drugogo tela poblizosti, eto, dolzhno byt', imenno ta propavshaia zhenshchina. Neispol'zovannyi ostavshiisia bilet ukazyval na vozvrashchenie v Maiami cherez chetyre dnia posle daty vyleta, to est' tri dnia nazad. On pochuvstvoval strannoe kolebanie psikhicheskoi boli, no propustil ego mimo. Kto-to tam, dolzhno byt', bolen ot bespokoistva. S akkuratnost'iu, dostoinoi khirurga, on pereryl soderzhimoe naidennykh sumok. V kazhdoi sumke byli letniaia odezhda i obychnye tualetnye prinadlezhnosti, kazhdyi nabor opredelial pol. No vsio ravno ne bylo iavnoi sviazi. V malen'kom tualetnom meshke dlia prinadlezhnostei zhenshchiny on nashiol, kak emu kazalos', obychnye tualetnye prinadlezhnosti. Nichego neobychnogo, dazhe dlia ego professional'nogo politseiskogo glaza. On poshchupal promokshie kupiury v denezhnoi skrepke muzhchiny, izvlek ikh i podschital deviat'sot tridtsat' dollarov, vkliuchaia vosem' stodollarovykh kupiur. Eto kazalos' bol'shoi summoi nalichnymi dlia chetyriokhdnevnoi poezdki, osobenno uchityvaia kolichestvo kreditnykh kartochek. Chut'-chut' tsirkumstantsial'nogo umozakliucheniia, podumal on. Moshennik ne stal by pol'zovat'sia kartochkami. Tol'ko nalichnye. Bez zapisei. Po mneniiu, v ego golove malo somnenii, chto eti dvoe byli sviazany. Gde-to, vozmozhno, sredi predmetov, razlozhennykh na stole, byli ubeditel'nye dokazatel'stva sviazi. On zadalsia voprosom: zachem iskat'? Eto bylo by aktual'no, tol'ko esli by iz etogo vytekali vyvody o kriminal'noi prirode samoi aviakatastrofy. Drugie zanimalis' etim kontsom rassledovaniia. Na tot moment uzhe izvlekli chiornyi iashchik s zapisiami pered krusheniem, i on slyshal, chto oblomki samoliota sobirali v strogo okhraniaemom angare. Tem ne menee ego bespokoilo, chto chto-to moglo byt' upushcheno -- ubiistvo radi strakhovki, mesti ili politicheskogo vyigrysha. Tipichny siuzhety trillerov, konechno, no vpolne vozmozhno. V dannom sluchae ushcherb dlia zhivushchikh byl glubokim. Ubliudki, -- podumal on, chuvstvuia, kak anger nakaplivaetsia vnutri, ego podozreniia bessil'no kontsentrirovalis' v tiomnoi pustote. "Vsio upakovano?" Iz-za spiny on uslyshal znakomyi golos molodogo vitse-prezidenta Southair Dzheka Farnsvorta. Chelovek vygliadel blednym i izmozhdionnym, khuzhe, chem on kogda-libo videl ego. "Pokhozhe na to." "Marlboro?" "Ikh dvoiniki." Makkarti predostavil skupuiu informatsiiu ob identifikatsii. "Kak vy eto interpretiruete?" -- sprosil Farnsvort. On zazhiog sigaretu i gluboko vdokhnul. "Krome dogadok, net okonchatel'noi sviazi." Makkarti zamolchal. "Poka chto. Vozmozhno, chto dva tela vsio eshchio ne uchteny?" "Nam garantirovali, chto dna bol'she net tel, i kolichestvo skhoditsia." "Togda eto dolzhny byt' oni," -- skazal Makkarti. Neproizvol'no on nadel kol'tso s kliuchami zhenshchiny na odin iz svoikh pal'tsev i zakrutil ego. "Ne imeet znacheniia," -- vzdokhnul Farnsvort. "Imeet dlia ikh suprugov." "Mozhet byt', oni vsio znaiut. A mozhet byt', im vsio ravno." "Im ne vsio ravno," -- skazal Makkarti s nekotorym smushcheniem. "Neuzheli oni ne zvonili v politsiiu po propavshim bez vesti?" "Mozhet byt'. Eto radikal'nyi shag, i bol'shinstvo liudei ne zvoniat do tekh por, poka ne nastupit otchaianie, kotoroe vot-vot dolzhno nastupit'." Farnsvort vzdokhnul. "Griaznoe delo," -- skazal on. "Vy uvereny?" "Po chuvstvu," -- priznalsia Makkarti. "Teper' nastupaet khudshaia chast'. Informirovanie." "Chiort," -- skazal Farnsvort, stav eshchio bolee blednym. "Oslozhneniia. Moia rabota -- uladit' vse nezakonchennye dela kak mozhno skoree." On podnial grustnye glaza, kotorye vstretilis' so vzgliadom Makkarti. "Dolzhny li SMI znat' -- ia imeiu v vidu, esli net pravonarusheniia, net real'noi khalatnosti, nichego sushchestvennogo? Smert' -- eto okonchatel'no. Skandal prodolzhaetsia." "Vy pravy tut," -- skazal Makkarti, demonstriruia Farnsvortu otvrashchenie politseiskogo k SMI. "K tomu zhe, vozmozhno, i sviazi net vovse. Zachem delat' predpolozheniia bez absoliutnykh dokazatel'stv?" Makkarti fyrknul. Molodoi chelovek emu nravilsia. "Ne absoliut," -- skazal on. "My vsio eshchio nichego opredelionnogo ne imeem o prichinakh krakha." "Tak zachem zhe lit' degot' na rozy?" "Verno." Imenno togda kliuchi, kotorye on krutil, podarili emu ideiu, i on otkryl kozhanyi brelok dlia kliuchei muzhchiny i sravnil kliuchi.
USER
eshche fragment: "Bingo," he said, holding up two Yale keys. Pressed together, they were perfectly matched. "You're a helluva detective," Farnsworth said. "I wish you weren't." Again he looked directly into McCarthy's eyes. "Do we have to tell them that?" "I hope not." "Why hope? Let's just not do it." McCarthy thought about it for a moment. If there had been no foul play, it might not be relevant, but if there had, the dead couple could be exhibit A. On the other hand, if human error was deduced as a cause of the crash, the dead couple would only serve to impress the story further in the public mind. It was little bits of dirt like this that people remembered. "Why bring their families more misery?" Farnsworth pressed. "Why inflict more pain? I've seen enough of it since Monday to last me a lifetime." "You're young yet." "Can it wait until tomorrow?" McCarthy looked at his watch. "Just a few more hours," Farnsworth implored. There was no escaping what they both knew had to be done. All next of kin had to be notified in person by a policeman and a representative of the airline. Those were the rules they had set. Most of the relatives who had stayed at the Marriott had been notified in that fashion. "I suppose." McCarthy shrugged. It was nearly 2:00 A.M. He wondered which would be more cruel, a few hours' delay or bringing bad news in the middle of the night. McCarthy relented. "Just until the sun comes up," he agreed. "Thanks. Maybe I'll get lucky and not live through the night," Farnsworth replied.
CHATBOT
"Bingo," skazal on, derzha v rukakh dva kliucha Yale. Prizhatye drug k drugu, oni ideal'no sovpadali. "Vy chertovski khoroshii detektiv," skazal Farnsvort. "Zhal', chto eto tak." Opiat' on posmotrel priamo v glaza Makkarti. "Obiazatel'no li nam eto govorit' im?" "Nadeius', chto net." "Pochemu nadeetes'? Davaite prosto ne budem etogo delat'." Makkarti nemnogo podumal. Esli ne bylo zlogo umysla, eto moglo byt' nesushchestvennym, no esli byl, miortvaia para mogla stat' veshchestvennym dokazatel'stvom A. S drugoi storony, esli v kachestve prichiny krusheniia byla vyiavlena chelovecheskaia oshibka, miortvaia para tol'ko by usilila istoriiu v soznanii obshchestvennosti. Imenno takie melkie podrobnosti zapominaiutsia liudiam. "Zachem nagnetat' bol' ikh sem'iam?" nastaival Farnsvort. "Zachem prichiniat' im bol'shuiu bol'? S ponedel'nika ia uvidel dostatochno stradanii na vsiu ostavshuiusia zhizn'." "Vy eshchio molody." "Mozhem li my otlozhit' eto do zavtra?" Makkarti posmotrel na svoi chasy. "Vsego neskol'ko chasov," umolial Farnsvort. Oba znali, chto izbezhat' togo, chto dolzhno byt' sdelano, nevozmozhno. Vsem blizhaishim rodstvennikam dolzhen lichno uvedomit' politseiskii vmeste s predstavitelem aviakompanii. Eto byli pravila, kotorye oni sami ustanovili. Bol'shinstvo rodstvennikov, ostavavshikhsia v otele Marriott, uzhe byli uvedomleny takim obrazom. "Polagaiu." Makkarti pozhal plechami. Bylo pochti 2:00 nochi. On zadumalsia, chto zhestokee: zaderzhka na neskol'ko chasov ili prinesti plokhie novosti posredi nochi. Makkarti smiagchilsia. "Tol'ko do voskhoda solntsa," soglasilsia on. "Spasibo. Mozhet byt', mne poveziot, i ia ne perezhivu etu noch'," otvetil Farnsvort.