The Widowmaker: Volume 1 in the Widowmaker Trilogy (3 page)

"Have you ever been one?"

"Depends on who you asked,” said Kinoshita. “No court ever convicted me of anything."

"How did you wind up working for Marcus Dinnisen?"

"He's got a lot of money to spend. I need a lot of money. It's only natural that we got together."

"When is your job over?"

Kinoshita stared at the head of a Fire Lizard, which stared blindly back at him. “Soon."

The young man frowned unhappily. “How soon?"

Kinoshita sighed. “Oh, I might come out to the Frontier with you for a week or two, until you're settled, but after that I'd just be in the way. It's not very likely that the man you're after will simply announce himself. You've got a lot of work to do, and the sooner you start, the better.” Kinoshita sipped his own drink. “The Frontier's as empty as the Oligarchy is crowded. It's almost impossible to sneak up on anyone out there. They see you coming from too far away."

"They won't see me at all,” said Nighthawk. “I'll be in a ship until I land."

"I was speaking metaphorically.” Nighthawk looked unconvinced. “Look,” continued Kinoshita, “I was right about the drinks. Trust me, I'm right about this too. I'd be a hindrance."

"If I'm the guy who has to do the dirty work, I should be able to make some of the decisions."

"Once you're out there on your own, you'll be making
all
the decisions,” Kinoshita assured him.

"Then I should decide whether I go alone or not."

"I don't want to argue with you,” said Kinoshita. “We had a nice, satisfying hunt and a nice, satisfying meal. We'll talk about it later.”
If I can figure out a graceful way to explain to you that you're expendable but I'm not.

Nighthawk shrugged and nodded his agreement. “All right. Later."

The young man was considering ordering yet another round of drinks when suddenly Six-Finger Blue walked over to the table.

"Hello, Ito!” he said in his deep bass voice. “I
thought
I spotted you when you came in. Where the hell have you been keeping yourself?"

"Oh, here and there,” said Kinoshita.

"Last I heard, you were shooting bad guys out on the Rim."

"Gave it up,” answered Kinoshita. “Decided I liked the thought of living to an old age."

"Yeah, making it past 40 has got a lot to recommend it,” agreed Six-Finger Blue. He turned and stared at Nighthawk. “Who's your friend? His face is familiar, but I can't quite place it."

"His name's Jeff,” said Kinoshita.

Nighthawk extended his hand, and Blue wrapped his six fingers around it. “Howdy, Jeff. You been out here to the Frontier before?"

"No,” answered Nighthawk.

"Well, if you're half the man your pal is, you'll make out just fine,” said Six-Finger Blue. He stared again. “Damn! I could swear I've seen your face somewhere!"

He wandered off to greet other patrons, and Kinoshita turned to Nighthawk. “An old holograph, probably,” he suggested as a possible explanation. “I could almost guess when and where, because by the time you were 23 you were wearing a huge handlebar mustache. It didn't look like much, but it added ten years to your appearance."

"It wasn't a holo of
me
,” answered Nighthawk. “You're confusing me with
him
."

"You
are
him, in a way,” said Kinoshita. “Now that I've worked with you, in a
lot
of ways."

Nighthawk shook his head. “He's an old man, dying of some horrible disease. I'm a young man with my whole life ahead of me. Once I take care of this business on Solio II, I've got a lot of places to see and things to do."

"What kind of things?” asked Kinoshita.

Nighthawk tapped his head with a forefinger. “As real as these things seem to me, I know they can't be my memories. I'm going to replace them with
real
ones. There's a whole galaxy out there to see and experience."

"It sounds like you've been giving it some serious thought."

"Well, I've been working all my life—all 48 days of it.” Nighthawk smiled awkwardly at his rudimentary attempt at humor. “I'm looking forward to my first vacation.” He paused thoughtfully. “Though for the time being, I'll settle for just one night of sleep when I'm not plugged in to an Educator Disk."

"It was necessary,” replied Kinoshita. “You've been force-fed the equivalent of twenty years of living in little more than a month. We couldn't send you out there with no knowledge and no social skills. Hell, you wouldn't even be able to speak yet if it hadn't been for the Disks."

"I know, and I'm grateful,” said Nighthawk. “But I still have
my
life to live, once I'm through saving
his
life.” He looked around the room, over the mounted heads on the wall, then back to Kinoshita. “I want to see him before I leave."

Kinoshita shook his head. “He might not survive being awakened again—at least, not until we have a cure for him."

"I don't have to talk to him,” persisted Nighthawk. “I just want to
see
him."

"They say he looks pretty awful."

"I don't care. He's the only family I've got."

"They won't allow it, Jeff. Why not plan on seeing him after you've done your job and science has found a way to cure him?"

"Science hasn't made any progress in a century. Why should I expect them to find a cure now?"

"I'm told they're getting close. Just be patient."

Nighthawk shook his head. “I don't have a father or a mother. All I've got is him."

"But there's more to it than that, isn't there?” said Kinoshita.

"Why should you think so?"

"Because I've already told you what an unpleasant experience it will be to see him. Now, what's the real reason?"

"I want to see what's in store for me if they
don't
come up with that cure."

"You've got enough things to think about, Jeff. You don't need to carry around an image of what this disease can do to you."

"
Will
do."

"
Can
do. You might not contract it."

"Come off it, Ito. I'm not his son; I'm his
clone
. If
he
got it,
I'll
get it."

"They could have a vaccine in two years, or ten, or twenty. You're physically 20 years old. He didn't contract it until he was in his late 40s."

"That's not that far off,” said Nighthawk.

"It's far enough."

"You won't let me see him?"

"It's not up to me,” said Kinoshita.

Nighthawk sighed. “All right.” He paused. “I'll have another Dust Whore. They kind of grow on you."

You gave in too easily, Jeff. The real Nighthawk would have demanded what he wanted, and then if I hadn't helped him, he'd have taken it himself. If he wanted to see a frozen body, God help anyone who stood in his way. That's what made him the Widowmaker. We had to tone you down, make you controllable, but now I wonder if you're tough enough to do what must be done.

Two more drinks arrived, and Kinoshita looked around the tavern. His gaze fell on two burly men standing at one end of the bar.

They're here, just as we'd been tipped they would be.
He glanced surreptitiously at Nighthawk.
It's time for your final exam, Jeff. I hope you're up to it.

"You see those two guys at the bar?” asked the small man.

Nighthawk nodded. “You know them?"

"In a manner of speaking,” answered Kinoshita. “I know of them.” He paused and studied the two men. “The one with the beard is Undertaker McNair, an assassin from out on the Rim. The other one's his bodyguard."

"What does an assassin need with a bodyguard?"

"Everyone needs someone to watch his back—especially a man with
his
reputation and enemies."

Nighthawk frowned. “If you know who he is, so must Customs. Why would they allow a hired killer to hunt here?"

"Because he can afford it."

"That's the only reason?"

"This is an exclusive place. People are expected to pay for that."

"How much has this cost
us
so far?"

"Don't worry about it,” said Kinoshita. “You're about to earn more than enough to cover the coat."

"You're being optimistic. It could be months before I finish my work on Solio II."

"You're going to earn it right now."

Nighthawk looked his puzzlement.

"There's paper on Undertaker McNair—half a million credits, dead or alive.” Kinoshita paused. “Dead is easier."

"I don't even know him,” said Nighthawk uncomfortably.

"You won't know the man you're after on Solio, either."

"That's different. Besides, I'm not armed."

"I've taught you 43 ways to kill with your hands and feet,” said Kinoshita. “This is as good a time as any to see how much you've learned."

"He's not bothering anyone,” said Nighthawk. “I can't just walk up to him and kill him."

"I agree. Kill the bodyguard first."

Nighthawk looked at the two men, then back at his tutor. “Don't make me do this, Ito."

"I can't make you do anything,” said Kinoshita.

"What'll happen if I say no?"

The small man shrugged. “We'll pack our bags and go back to Deluros."

"And then?"

Kinoshita paused a moment and stared into Nighthawk's eyes. “And then they'll destroy you quickly and painlessly, and we'll make the next clone a little more aggressive."

"You'd let them do that to me?” demanded Nighthawk.

"I couldn't stop them,” said Kinoshita. “They're playing for huge stakes, and their first duty is to the old man who pays their bills."

Nighthawk looked at the two men, then back to Kinoshita. “What do I say to them?"

"Anything you want, or nothing at all."

"What if they're armed?"

"They're not supposed to be, not in here."

"But
if
they are?"

"Then you'll have to think fast, won't you?” said Kinoshita.

"That's
it
?” said Nighthawk. “That's all the advice you're going to give me?"

"I won't be around to give you advice when you go up against the man you were created to kill. You might as well get used to it."

Nighthawk stared at Kinoshita silently.

All of a sudden you'd rather kill me than them. What the hell did I say that got you so pissed off?
Suddenly a sense of outrage possessed him, outrage that his sole purpose for existing was to kill. Yet he couldn't change it, so he tried to focus it on his targets.

"Wait here,” said Nighthawk.

The young man got to his feet and walked over to the bar where Undertaker McNair and his bodyguard were standing. He strolled casually past them, then suddenly whirled and brought his hand down heavily on the back of the bodyguard's neck. There was a loud cracking sound, and the man dropped like a stone.

McNair was startled, but his instincts were good, which is all that saved him from Nighthawk's first blow, a haymaker that was aimed at his head but struck his shoulder as he turned and tried to protect himself.

"What the hell is going on?” muttered McNair, backing away and striking a defensive position.

Nighthawk said nothing, but launched a spinning kick that would have beheaded McNair if it had landed. McNair blocked it, reached inside his tunic, and suddenly was holding a long, wicked-looking knife in his hand.

"Who
are
you?” demanded McNair, feinting twice with the knife, then thrusting toward Nighthawk's neck. Nighthawk blocked the thrust, grabbed the assassin's wrist, ducked and twisted—and McNair flew through the air and landed next to his bodyguard with a resounding
thud!

The young man, not even breathing hard from his exertions, kicked the knife out of McNair's hand and across the room, then gestured for him to get to his feet.

"What do you want?” rasped McNair. “Is it money? We can deal!"

Nighthawk feinted for McNair's groin, then took the heel of his hand and landed a powerful blow to McNair's nose, which was driven into his brain, killing him instantly.

Nighthawk heard a humming noise behind him, and turned to find himself facing a fully-charged laser pistol.

"Hold it right there, son,” said Blue, holding the pistol in his good hand.

"There was paper on them,” said Kinoshita, who hadn't left his table.

"Not my concern,” said Blue. “You don't kill people in my establishment."

Nighthawk shot a quick glance at Kinoshita. It seemed to ask:
Do I kill him too?

Kinoshita shook his head, and the young man relaxed.

"We'll be happy to leave as soon as you put your pistol away."

"I haven't said that I'm going to put it away,” replied Blue.

"And we'll make restitution,” continued Kinoshita.

"Yeah?” The interest was in Blue's voice; his face was without emotion, his unblinking eyes trained on Nighthawk.

"There's six hundred thousand credits due on those two,” said Kinoshita. “Half a million on McNair, the rest on his friend. We can't have racked up
that
big a bill in just three days. I'll instruct the authorities to turn the reward over to you. Pay our tab with it, and keep the rest."

"And the Demoncats?"

"What about them?"

"Always a market for good trophies."

"They're yours."

Blue stared at Nighthawk for another moment, then put his pistol back behind the bar. “You got yourself a deal,” he announced. “Have one more Dust Whore—on the house."

"That's very generous of you, Blue,” said Kinoshita, gesturing Nighthawk to leave the bar and rejoin him at the table. “We accept."

Nighthawk plunked a coin down on the bar. “I can afford to pay for
my
drink,” he said with a hint of childish pride.

"You did well, Jeff,” said Kinoshita. “Those were tough, hard men you killed. You pulled it off with a minimum of effort, and with no damage to yourself."

"So what?"

Kinoshita smiled. “
That
was your graduation ceremony. We will each drink a Dust Whore. Then we'll go back to the chalet, and in the morning you'll take off for Solio II.” The small man paused. “When we entered this establishment, you were a clone, all potential, all promise.” He raised his glass in a salute. “Now you are as good as any man, and better than most."