The Long Twilight (34 page)

"What is it, Florin?" the Senator said sharply.

"Nothing much," I said. "It doesn't look like what I expected."

"Were you expecting something in particular?"

"Don't count that one, Senator; it just slipped out. Where to now?"

"A place near here; there's a rendezvous arranged for every fourth hour until I arrive." He looked at a strap watch. "Less than half an hour now." We went past a closed tailor shop with dummies wearing double-breasted tuxes with dust on the shoulders, past a candy store with plates of fudge on paper doilies, a drugstore with bottles of colored water and a Dr. Pepper sign. I stopped him at the corner.

"Suppose we vary the route," I said, "just for the hell of it."

"Nonsense." He started through me but I didn't move.

"Humor me, Senator."

"Look here, Florin—your job is to carry out my orders, not to try to bully me!"

"Correction. I'm here to try to keep you alive. How I do that is my business."

He glared at me, then shrugged.

"Very well. It's two blocks west, one south."

We went along the dark street. All the other pedestrians seemed to be on the other side of the street, though I didn't see anyone cross to avoid us. A surprising number of women were tall and slim, and wore gray coats with squirrel collars. A Nile green open car with its side curtains buttoned up tight rolled slowly by. I picked a corner at random and turned in. A match flared halfway down the block. A green car was parked there, lights off, motor running, the off-side door hanging open. I saw that much in the flare of the match. The man who had struck it dropped it, stepped into the car. Its lights went on, dazzling at us from two nickel-plated bowls half the size of washtubs.

"Run for it!" the Senator blurted.

"Stand fast!" I said, and caught his arm, pushed him back into a doorway. The car gunned past, took the corner on two sidewalls. Its racketing died out along the dark street.

"Close," the Senator said in a strained voice. "Fast thinking, Florin."

"Uh-huh," I said. "Phony play. They wanted us to see them. Who were they, friends of yours?"

"What are you implying?"

"Not a thing, Senator. Just groping in the dark."

"Not nervous, are you, Florin?"

I gave him my best death-row grin. "Why should I be? You're the one they want to kill."

"Perhaps I exaggerated the dangers."

"Any idea why? The routine with the car, I mean."

"Coincidence," he said. "Stop reading deep significance into every incident, Florin."

He started past me and I stopped him. "Maybe I'd better go scout the area alone."

"For God's sake, Florin—you'll be seeing burglars under the bed next!"

"Sometimes they're there, Senator."

He made a disgusted sound. "I made a mistake in sending for you, Florin. You're not the man I was led to believe—" He broke off, listening to what he'd just said.

"Gets to you after a while, doesn't it, Senator?"

"What the devil does that mean?"

"I'm the man that took the job of guarding you, Senator. I take the job seriously—but you're not giving me much help."

He chewed his teeth and looked at me.

"Fire me and I'll walk away right now," I said. "But as long as I'm working for you we do it my way."

"You can't—" he started, but I waved that away.

"Name it, Senator."

"Damn it, man, can't you simply . . . go along?"

I looked at him.

"All right. We'll do it your way," he said between his teeth.

Something whispered behind my ear. The miniature voice said,

"
Florin—there has been a slight hitch. You're to keep the subject away from the rendezvous for the present. Walk east; you'll receive further instructions shortly
."

"Well?" the Senator said.

"I changed my mind," I said. "Let's skip the meeting. You can make the next one in four hours."

"Damn it, man, every hour counts!"

"Only the ones while you're alive, Senator."

"All right, all right! What do you have in mind?"

"Suppose we walk east for a while."

He looked at me warily. "Florin—is there something you're not telling me?"

"I asked you first."

He snarled and pushed past me and headed east, and I followed. The blocks looked just like the ones we'd already walked along. A big green car with the top up cruised across an intersection half a block ahead. We kept going.

"
All right, Florin
," the little voice whispered. "
Stop at the next corner and wait
."

We came to the intersection and crossed. "You go ahead," I said. "I want to check something."

He gave me a disgusted look and strolled on fifty feet and stared into a dark window. I got out a cigarette and tamped the end and saw the green car round a corner two blocks down. I dropped the weed and faded back, sprinted toward the Senator.

"Now what?" he snarled, and put his back to the wall.

"In the alley—out of sight!" I snapped, and grabbed his arm.

"What for? What—"

"Hunch." I hustled him ahead, back into darkness and evil odors and things that crunched underfoot. I heard the purr of the big engine; it came closer, then stayed in one place and idled. A car door slammed. The car moved on, passed the alley mouth.

"Why, that's the same car . . ." the Senator whispered.

"You know the owner?"

"Of course not. What is this, Florin?"

"Somebody's playing games. I get a feeling I don't like the rules."

"Can you, for God's sake, speak plainly?"

"No plainer than I can think. Let's get out of here, Senator. That way." I pointed deeper into the alley. He grumbled but moved. We came out on a dark street that was wider but no more fragrant than the alley.

"Where are you leading me, Florin?" the Senator said in a voice that had gotten noticeably hoarser. "What are you getting me into?"

"I'm playing this one by ear," I said. "Let's find a quiet corner where we can talk—" I got that far with my reasonable proposal before the green car boomed out of a side street. It raked the curb, straightened out and roared down at us. I heard the Senator yell, heard glass tinkle, heard the
ba-ba-bam!
of a thirty caliber on full automatic, saw flame spurt and felt the sting of brick chips across my cheek. I was turning, grabbing the Senator and shoving him ahead of me, hearing the gun stutter again in the bellow of the big straight-eight that echoed and dwindled away and left us alone in a ringing silence bigger than a cathedral.

The Senator was leaning against the bricks, his back to me, folding slowly at the knees. I got to him and held him up and saw the big stain spreading on his side. Out in the street someone called cautiously. Feet clattered on pavement, coming our way. It was time to go. I got the Senator's arm over my shoulders; his feet fumbled at the bricks underfoot and some of his weight went off me. We did twenty drunken feet that way before I saw the door, set back in a deep recess on the left. It didn't look clean or inviting, but I lurched toward it and got the knob turned and we more or less fell into a dark little room with packing cases and scattered excelsior and odds and ends of wire and rope, barely visible in some dirty light leaking over the transom.

I settled the Senator on the floor and checked him and found two holes, low on his side, about six inches apart.

"How bad?" he whispered.

"Busted rib. The slug glanced off. You were lucky."

"You're hurt, too," he accused. I felt over my jaw, found some abraded skin that was bleeding a little.

"I take that back about your friends," I said. "Those were real bullets."

"They were trying to kill me!" He tried to sit up and I pressed him back.

"Don't sound so surprised. You told me that was the idea, remember?"

"Yes, but—" he stoppered it up. "They've gone out of their minds," he tried again, and let it go. "Florin, what are we going to do?"

"First, I'd better plug those holes." I peeled his shirt back and started to work.

"This chum you were supposed to meet: Eridani," I said. "Tell me about him."

"You were right. It was a trap. I can't go there now, I—"

"Hold it, Senator. I had my doubts about your story, but those slugs change things. This Eridani may be our out. How long have you known him?"

"Why—long enough, I suppose. A matter of years. I trusted him—"

"Any reason to tie him to the shooting?"

"Well . . . not specifically—but this whole thing has gone sour. I want to get clear of here, Florin, my life's not safe in this place; I—"

"Where will you go?"

"I don't know."

"Then maybe we'd better think about making that rendezvous."

"We can't go out there—into those streets!"

"We can't stay here."

"What the devil do you know about it? You're just—" He caught himself and sank back and glared at me.

"Sure; I'm the hired help. Why not let me work at what I was hired for? I'll check Eridani out alone. If it looks good, I'll bring him here—"

"No! I'm not staying alone!"

"It's the safest way."

He slumped. "I deserved that. I haven't borne up very well in the clutch, have I, Florin? Well, I told you violence wasn't my forte. But I'm all right now. I won't make a fool of myself again."

I finished my first-aid and wrapped a strip of shirt around him.

"Think you can walk?"

"Certainly." I helped him get to his feet. There was a faint
click!
behind my right ear and a voice said : "
All right, Florin; wait there for the next development
."

The Senator was busy buttoning his coat, grunting with pain at the movement. I felt back of my ear and found the gadget and pried it loose and ground it under my heel. A door across the room opened into a grimy hall that led to a glass door that let us out into the street.

No green Buicks were in sight; nobody shot at us. We kept to the shadows like a couple of mice caught outside the family hole and headed for the waterfront.

It was a mean-looking dive on a street only a little less shabby than the one where we'd been shot up. Two steps led down into dim brown light and the odors of booze and cigarettes. We took a booth at the back and ordered beer from an ex-heavyweight with broken-down arches and a face that had been hammered flat. He put two bleary glasses in front of us and went back behind the bar to brood. I had used my handkerchief to wipe the gore off my face, and with the coat folded the other way the Senator's stains didn't show; if our host noticed anything unusual for the neighborhood he was thoughtful enough not to mention it.

"He's late," the Senator said nervously. He was sitting on the side facing the door. "I don't like this, Florin. We're sitting ducks. They could fire through the window—"

"They could have done that any time. They didn't; maybe later we'll figure out why."

He wasn't listening; he was looking toward the door. I turned and saw a slim, dark-haired girl wrapped to the eyes in a red fox collar come down the two steps and look around. Her glance may have hesitated for a moment at our booth; or maybe it was just wishful thinking. She had a face like you see in dreams, and even then only at a distance. She went across the room and disappeared through a door at the back.

"Nice," I said. "On our side?"

"Who?"

"Don't overplay your hand, Senator," I said. "Nobody misses one like that."

He frowned at me. "See here, Florin, I don't care for your tone."

"Could it be there's something you're not telling me, Senator?"

"I've told you everything," he snapped. "This farce has gone far enough." He started to stand and froze that way, staring toward the windows. I turned my head and through the glass saw a Nile green Buick ease to a stop at the curb. The nearside door opened and a man stepped out. Under the brim of his dark hat I recognized the gray man. He seemed to see me through the windows and halted in midstride.

"You know him?" I snapped. The Senator didn't answer. His face was a trifle wavery around the edges. A high, singing noise was coming from somewhere in the middle distance. I tried to get my feet under me to stand, but couldn't seem to find them. The Senator was leaning over me, shouting something, but I couldn't make out the words. They ran together into a booming sound like a fast freight going through a tunnel, with me hanging onto the side. Then my grip loosened and I fell off and the train hurtled away into the dark, making mournful sounds that trailed away into nothingness.

I was lying on my back on hot sand, and the sun was burning my face like a blast oven. Fire ants were crawling over me, taking a bite here and there, picking out a place to start lunch. I tried to move, but my arms and legs were tied down.

"You're a damned coward," somebody was saying.

"Damn you, I did all I could! It was all coming apart on me!"

The voices came from the sky. I tried to get my eyelids up to see who was talking, but they were tied down like the rest of me.

"It's your own fault, Bardell," another voice said. This one reminded me of somebody. Trait. Lenwell Trait, the name came from somewhere a long way off, a long time ago. It didn't sound like the name of anybody I'd know.

"My fault, hell! You were the masterminds, the ones who knew what you were doing! I went through hell, I tell you! You don't know what it's like!"

"You quit—ran out! You ought to be shot!"

"Shut up—all of you!" Big Nose talking. I didn't know his name, or where I'd met him, but I knew that voice. "Lloyd, reset everything for situation one. Bardell, get ready."

"Are you all crazy? I've had enough!"

"You're going back. You're a bungling incompetent, but you're all we have. No arguments. The time for that's long past."

"You can't do it! I've lost confidence! I don't believe in the technique anymore! It would be murder!"

"Suicide," Big Nose said. "Unless you buck up and meet it. We're committed now. We can't back out."

"I need help—at least give me that! Things aren't breaking the way you said!"