И проиграли бой

           Asharpvoicecalled,"Comein."

           Jimopenedthedoorandsteppedintoasmall,bareofficecontainingadesk,ametalfilingcabinet,anarmycotandtwostraightchairs.Onthedesksatanelectriccookingplate,onwhichalittletincoffee-potbubbledandsteamed.AmanlookedsolemnlyoverthedeskatJim.Heglancedatacardinfrontofhim."JimNolan?"heasked.

           "Yes."Jimlookedcloselyathim,asmallman,neatlydressedinadarksuit.Histhickhairwascombedstraightdownoneachsidefromthetopinavainattempttocoverawhitescarhalfaninchwidethatlayhorizontallyovertherightear.Theeyesweresharpandblack,quicknervouseyesthatmovedconstantlyabout—fromJimtothecard,anduptoawallcalendar,andtoanalarmclock,andbacktoJim.Thenosewaslarge,thickatthebridgeandnarrowatthepoint.Themouthmightatonetimehavebeenfullandsoft,buthabitualmusculartensionhaddrawnitcloseandmadeadeeplineoneachlip.Althoughthemancouldnothavebeenoverforty,hisfaceboreheavyparentheticallinesofresistancetoattack.Hishandswereasnervousashiseyes,largehands,almosttoobigforhisbody,longfingerswithspatulateendsandflat,thicknails.Thehandsmovedaboutonthedeskliketheexploringhandsofablindman,feelingtheedgesofpaper,followingthecornerofthedesk,touchinginturneachbuttononhisvest.Therighthandwenttotheelectricplateandpulledouttheplug.

           Jimclosedthedoorquietlyandsteppedtothedesk."Iwastoldtocomehere,"hesaid.

           Suddenlythemanstoodupandpushedhisrighthandacross."I’mHarryNilson.Ihaveyourapplicationhere."Jimshookhands."Sitdown,Jim."Thenervousvoicewassoft,butmadesoftbyaneffort.