"Yeah. Up here with a guy's wife. How do you like that? There ain't
enough unmated kids around, he wants the married ones, too."
"He isn't here."
"Huh?" a little admiration lit up the woman's eyes. "Look, guy, you got
guts. I'll hand you that. But tonight I ran across another who had guts
too. You oughta see him now."
There was a silence then. You take away the sounds and there are always
silences. And then:
"The guy's my husband, see? And once there was a time when I loved him.
I loved him hard enough to figure he'd appreciate a little loyalty. I
did five long years for that mistake. There was this woman--even then
he had them, it seems--and I had the silly notion she was chasing him,
instead of the other way around. So she died a little. And I did five
years like I said. Can't you tell? Can't you see it on me?"
Henderson nodded.
"Sure. White, I am. You get that way after five years. Where is he?"
The woman bared teeth. "Can't figure it, huh? Look, even in prison
you get to hear things. Like I heard about him hanging out the
'business-as-usual' sign all the years I was inside. With the woman,
I mean. Do you think he ever came to see me? Do you think he sent me
letters? Post cards even?"
"All right. Yes, he was here. He isn't here now."
"Where is he?"
Henderson sighed. He looked into the guns in the woman's hands. "Did
you ever hear of Jao?"
"Sure. Gambling city. Down south."
"Yes. And did you ever hear of Sarah Henderson?"
"No."
"My wife." He said it simply.
It took a few moments but the woman got it. She began to nod, began to
get the comprehension in her stark eyes. She said after a little while:
"I see, guy. I know how you feel. Is that what you had the gun out for?
Uh huh. I can feel for you, believe me. Look. Yu got a can?"
"What?"
"Crate. Ship. 'Copter."
Another silence.
"Look. There's one outside. I saw it when I got off the spacelators.
I'm going to sort of borrow it for a while. I've been doing it for
weeks now chasing that bum all over the planet. So one more won't
matter. I'm heading for Jao. Security will get it back for you. All I
want is a little time."
* * * * *
Henderson shook his head. "You won't make it. The rains have already
started. All ships are grounded for the next twenty-four hours.
Security ordinance." The woman snorted. "I'll chance that. All I ask
from you is a few hours before you report the stolen ship. Get it? And
in return I'm doing you a favor when I find him. I'm trusting you, you
trust me."
Henderson sighed. He looked at his heat gun in the woman's hand, looked
up then into the woman's eyes.
She nodded. Put his gun back on the table. "Yeah. See what you mean. I
won't need yours. A deal?"
"A deal." He watched her go. He listened to the 'copter take off. After
that there was another silence in the room, a very heavy silence.
He slowly crossed to the transmitted set in the corner. Hesitated.
Slowly brought up his hand and touched a button. The little screen
came into life. He said softly:
"Henderson to Flight 9."
"Flight 9. Yes, Chief."
His voice became even softer: "A 'copter. Registration X-13-X. Pilot
Arthur Sterling. Took off five minutes ago from Fraon. Headed for Jao."
"One moment, Chief, I'll put radar on it." A pause. Then: "Right, sir.
Got it. Coming fast. Helluva nerve that guy's got. Don't he know all
ships are supposed to be grounded?"
Henderson shook his head. "It's all right. He had a little trouble. I
gave permission to continue flight. Contact Jao, tell them I said not
to bother it. Got that?"
"Whatever you say, Chief. Right."
"Thanks." Henderson flicked the set off. He looked over at the gun on
the table. He picked it up, took it with him into the bedroom. He laid
it on the unoccupied pillow next the sleeping woman's head. He didn't
look down at her now. He quietly went back to the living room, went to
a black metallic desk up against a wall. From it he took a very small
box with a little gold plate inset in the lid. Engraving on the plate
winked up in the light:
_From Sarah to John_
Wedding present.
He lifted the lid, looked down at a tiny reel of tape inside. He
touched a button under the lid. Music filled the room quite softly
for a moment. Organ music. Wedding music. And then no more music. But
voices, a man's voice, and a woman's voice. When it got to the part
where the woman's voice said, "I take thee, John ..." he stopped it.
He re-reeled the tape, put it back where it had been before. Then his
trembling fingers touched the erase button, held it there until the
entire little reel had run off.
After that there wasn't anything else to do but go to the front lock,
go outside, go away from Residential Number 327. The night was dark,
very dark. A very good night for the Rain.