"Look, Pat, I can take just so much mysterious crap, and no more," I
said, feeling the blood starting to work itself into my face. "I got
in from Venus, after winding up one of the prettiest insurrections you
ever saw. I got my belly full of the sound of guns and the smell of
death, and all I wanted to do was relax and spend the dough I made. No
sooner do I take my first drink of decent liquor in six months than you
walk up to me and start the goddamdest mess I've ever been in!
"All right--we made a deal. As far as I know, I've carried out the
orders you gave me. I got the job for Transolar, and I started it.
Nobody but you and I know there's something funny going on, though I
suppose the cops are starting to suspect--seeing as I've killed five
men in two days, and helped you knock off two more. Now let's get a few
things straight around here! I've been shot at, slugged, and generally
treated like a supporting star in a cloak and dagger movie. Either I
get some fast answers, or I start slugging!"
I'd been moving forward as I talked, getting madder and madder, and
closer to being ready to dive for that gun and rip it out of her hand.
She was starting to lose some of her determination. The gun muzzle was
dipping. I reached out my hand.
The gun was centered on me again in an instant, but the fire was gone
out of her eyes.
"Hold it, Ash!" she said. "You sound too mad to be lying, but you
haven't convinced me yet. Just stay put a minute. You want to know
what's going on? You should have a pretty fair idea by now," she went
on, still keeping the gun on me. "I'm after that power pile you're
supposed to fly out to Titan. Harry needs it."
* * * * *
I should have known, I suppose. Well, maybe she was still space-struck.
Thorsten played rough, and he had some strange friends, but so far he
hadn't earned a full-scale visit from the TSN. It didn't mean as much
in this case, though. He would have been a tough nut to crack, sitting
out there in the Asteroids with a good-sized fleet behind him. Still--
But that was for another time. I let her see by my face that the
subject wasn't closed, and then I went on.
"Yeah--keep talking. Who jumped you on Rocket Row last night? Why were
you trying to pot me a while ago?"
"Because--goddam it, I don't know _what_ to think!" she said. "Those
were SBI men last night. I knew they were trailing me, but I thought
I'd gotten rid of them before I contacted you. Maybe I did--maybe
they picked me up again when I went back out on the street. Anyway,
we killed them, but the SBI knows damn well who did it. We did enough
yelling back and forth to let all of New York City know who it was."
That had been a dumb play, all right. I didn't have time to curse my
stupidity, though. I didn't care one bit for the idea of me having shot
an SBI man. It was his own fault, but it wouldn't help my record any.
"All right," I said, "so they were SBI men. That's tough--for them."
"Why haven't we been picked up? I've been hiding out all day--but how
did you get away with walking in Transolar in broad daylight and coming
out again, if you didn't make some kind of deal?" She was gnawing on
her lip. "Damn it, give me a reasonable explanation, and I'll forget
the whole thing."
That sent me off. I knew why I hadn't been picked up, all right--they
were waiting for me to blow this deal open for them. Maybe, if I did
that, they'd forget I'd killed one of them. I'd have to do a really
good job, though.
But I wasn't doing too much reasoning, right then. I'd been mad all
night, but that was nothing to what I felt right then.
I could feel a big red ball of pure rage building up inside me. My
fingers started to tremble, and my vision got hazy.
I swung out my hand and slapped the muzzle of the gun as hard as
I could, and to hell with what it did to my bum hand. The gun went
spinning away, taking skin off her fingers as it went, and crashed into
a wall. I swung my hand back and slapped her across the face. She fell
back and hit the floor. She lay huddled in a corner, looking up at me,
her eyes wide and her mouth open with surprise.
"You'll forget the whole thing, huh? All I have to do is explain away
some half-baked idea that came into your head, and you'll forgive me,
is that it?" I reached down, grabbed her shoulder, pulled her to her
feet, and held her there. Her mouth was still open, and she couldn't
get any words out of her throat.
"You're going to _forgive_ me for getting me into a deal that involves
killing SBI men. You're going to forgive me for having a guy that used
to be a buddy of mine hate my guts, I suppose. You're going to forgive
me for slapping my face, and I'm going to get your gracious pardon for
having to fight it out for my life tonight against five guns. That's
just fine! Is that supposed to cover getting shot and knocked around
and slugged?"
I hauled back and slapped her again. "And that's for pointing a gun
at me! Twice. I live by a gun, and I expect to die by one, someday.
But not at the hands of a woman who can't fight a man on his own
terms, and has to keep him off with a gun after she gets herself into
a mess. All right--you know how to use one. But, so help me, you wave
one of those things at me again, and I'll ram it down your throat
catty-cornered!"
I pushed her away, and she slammed back against the wall. "One more
thing," I said. "Have you ever heard of the SBI fooling around making
deals with a guy that's killed one of their men? Not on your life!
They're a tough crew, and a smart one. If they thought I had anything
to do with that fracas last night, I'd be on my way to a Federal
gas chamber right now, if I was lucky enough to live through the
working-over they'd give me! Use your brains!"
She stood against the wall, staring at me, making sounds in her throat.
One of her cheeks was starting to puff.