Tzadi dropped his eyes. "Do away with her," he whispered.
They sat quietly for a good five minutes, Tzadi looking at the table,
Derrence staring at Tzadi. Then Derrence said, "What does she know
about you, Tzadi? I mean, what's the _real_ reason you want her killed?
You'll never make me believe it's just that she knows you know about
me. You'd simply turn me in and the problem would be solved!"
Tzadi looked up. "I've told you the truth. I don't want to turn you in.
She insists that I do. She's given me until next Monday--that's seven
days, counting today. I have an office on the 41st floor. I moved down
to 36 to meet you, personally; to decide whether I could turn you in.
And I can't."
Derrence laughed.
Tzadi nodded. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but you represent something
to me. Something unique and important and...." He stopped. He said,
"We'll forget the twenty a week, though I desperately need extra money.
If you will do away with Mercy Adrians...."
"Mercy? My secretary? _She_ insists that you turn me in?"
"Yes. Do away with her and you can continue with your job, your life,
as if nothing had happened. Let her live...." He shrugged.
Again Derrence laughed. "You assume my job means enough to me so that
I'd _kill_ for it?"
"I hope so," Tzadi whispered. "I fervently hope so."
"Well it doesn't," Derrence snapped, and looked around for the waiter.
Tzadi sighed. "Then there's nothing more to be said. I will give you
as long as possible--until next Monday. Then I shall inform the proper
people."
"Big deal," Derrence said, his heart sinking, his stomach twisting.
"Better out of work than in the electric chair."
"Oh, but I can assure you of successfully escaping detection."
"You can," Derrence said, smiling thinly. He caught the waiter's eye.
"And how can you do that?"
"I ... I can't tell you."
"I thought so. Why don't you do the job yourself, if you're so sure of
getting away with it?"
"I am incapable of such things--just not built for ending life."
* * * * *
The waiter came. Derrence asked for the bill. The waiter glanced at
the plates half full of food and asked if anything was wrong. Derrence
said no, they were merely in a hurry. The waiter said, "But, sir, the
management would be willing to give you credit for a meal if, indeed,
the food were not absolutely...."
Tzadi said, "Will you stop this theatrical nonsense? Don't you know
there's no audience left to appreciate it?"