Reich swore feverishly all the way down from the tower apartment to the cellar
garage where he deposited his private Jumper key in the Call slot and waited for
the little car. When it came out of storage with the key in the door, another
tenant was approaching and even at a distance was staring. Reich turned the key
and yanked open the door to jump in. There was a low pressure Rrrrrrip. Reich
hurled himself to the ground. The Jumper tank exploded. By some freak, it failed
to burst into flame. It erupted a shattering geyser of raw fuel and fragments of
twisting metal. Reich crawled frantically, reached the exit ramp, and ran for
his life.
On the street level, torn, bleeding, rank with creosote fuel, he searched
frantically for a Public Jumper. He couldn't find a coin-Jumper. He managed to
flag a piloted machine.
"Where to?" the driver asked.
Reich dabbed dazedly at the blood and oil that smeared him. "Chooka Frood!" he
croaked in a hysterical voice.
The cab hopped him to 99 Bastion West.
Reich thrust past the protesting doorman, the indignant reception clerk, and
Chooka Frood's highly paid charge d'affaires to the private office, a Victorian
room furnished with stained glass lamps, overstuffed sofas and a roll-top desk.
Chooka was seated at the desk, wearing a dingy smock and a dingy expression that
changed to alarm when Reich yanked the scrambler out of his pocket.
"For God's sake, Reich!" she exclaimed.
"Here I am, Chooka," he said hoarsely. "So let's have the trail run before we
feed it to the dice. I used this scrambler on you once before. I'm warmed up for
it again. You warmed me up, Chooka."
She shot up from the desk and screamed: "Magda!"
Reich caught her by the arm and hurled her across the office. She side-swiped
the couch and fell across it. The red-eyed bodyguard came running into the
office. Reich was ready for her. He clubbed her across the back of the neck, and
as she fell forward, he ground his heel into her back and slammed her flat on
the floor. The woman twisted and clawed at his leg. Ignoring her he spat at
Chooka: "Let's get it squared off. Why the booby-traps?"
"What are you talking about?" Chooka cried.
"What the hell do I look like I'm talking about. Read the blood, lady. I've
skinned out of three obituaries running. How long can my luck hold out?"
"Make sense, Reich! I can't---"
"I'm talking about the big D, Chooka, D for death. I came in here and
strong-armed the D'Courtney girl out of you. I beat hell out of your girl-friend
and I beat hell out of you. So you got frabbed off and set those traps. Right?"
Chooka shook her head dazedly.
"Three of them so far. On the ship coming back from Spaceland. In my study. In
my Jumper. How many more, Chooka?"
"It wasn't me, Reich. So help me. I---"
"It has to be you, Chooka. You're the only one with a gripe and the only one who
hires gimpsters. That adds up to you, so let's get it squared off." He slapped
the safety off the scrambler. "Ive got no time for a two-bit hater with
coffin-queer friends."
"For God's sake!" Chooka screamed. "What the hell have I got against you? So you
rough-housed a little. So you mugged Magda. You wasn't the first. You ain't
gonna be the last. Use your head!"
"I used it. If it isn't you, who else?"
"Keno Quizzard. He hires gimpsters too. I heard you and him---"
"Quizzard's out. Quizzard's dead. Who else?"
"Church."
"He hasn't got the guts. If he had he would have tried it ten years ago. Who
else?"
"How do I know? There's hundreds hate you enough."
"There's thousands, but who could get into my safe? Who could break a phase
combination and---"
"Maybe nobody broke into your safe. Maybe somebody broke into your head and
peeped the combination. Maybe---"
"Peeped!"
"Yeah. Peeped. Maybe you added Church up wrong... Or some other peeper what's
got a eager reason for filling your coffin."
"My God..." Reich whispered. "Oh my God... Yes."
"Church?"
"No. Powell."
"The cop?"
"The cop. Powell. Yes. Mr. Holy Lincoln Powell. Yes!" The words began pouring
out of Reich in a torrent. "Yes, Powell! The son of a bitch is fighting dirty
because I've licked him clean. He can't get a case together. He's got nothing
but booby-trapping left..."
"You're crazy, Reich."
"Am I? Why the hell did he take Ellery West away from me, and Breen? He knows
the only defense I've got against a bobby-trap is a peeper. It's Powell!"
"But a cop, Reich? A cop?"
"Sure a cop!" Reich shouted. "Why not a cop? He's safe. Who'd suspect him? It's
smart. It's what I'd do myself. All right... Now I'm going to booby-trap him!"
He kicked the red-eyed woman from him, went to Chooka and yanked her to her
feet. "Call Powell."
"What?"
"Call Powell," he yelled. "Lincoln Powell. Call him at his house. Tell him to
come down here right away."
"No, Reich..."
He shook her. "Listen to me, frab-head. Bastion West is owned by the D'Courtney
Cartel. Now that old D'Courtney's dead, I'm going to own the cartel, which means
I'll own Bastion. I'll own this house. I'll own you, Chooka. You want to stay in
business? Call Powell!"
She stared at his livid face, feebly peeping him, slowly realizing that what he
said was true.
"But I got no excuse, Reich."
"Wait a minute. Wait a minute." Reich thought, then yanked the knife-pistol from
his pocket and shoved in into Chooka's hands. "Show him this. Tell him the
D'Courtney girl left it here."
"What is it?"
"The gun that killed D'Courtney."
"For the love of---Reich!"
Reich laughed. "It won't do him any good. By the time he's got it, he'll be
booby-trapped. Call him. Show him the gun. Get him down here." He thrust Chooka
toward the phone, followed her and stood alongside the screen out of the line of
sight. He hefted the scrambler in his hand meaningfully. Chooka understood.
She dialed Powell's number. Mary Noyes appeared on the screen, listened to
Chooka, then called Powell. The prefect appeared, his lean face haggard, his
dark eyes heavily shadowed.
"I... I got something you might want, maybe, Mr. Powell," Chooka stammered. "I
just found it. That girl you took outa my house. She left it behind."
"Left what, Chooka?"
"The gun which killed her father."
"No!" Powell's face was suddenly animated. "Let's see it."
Chooka displayed the knife-pistol.
"That's it, by heaven!" Powell exclaimed. "Maybe I'm going to get a break after
all. Stay right where you are, Chooka. I'll be down as fast as a Jumper can
jet."
The screen blacked out. Reich ground his teeth and tasted blood. He turned,
dashed out of the Rainbow House and located a vacant coin-Jumper. He dropped a
half-credit into the lock, opened the door and lurched in. As he took off with a
hissing roar, he clattered against a thirtieth story cornice and nearly
capsized. He realized dazedly that he was in no condition to pilot a Jumper or
set a booby-trap.
"Don't try to think," he thought. "Don't try to plan. Leave it to your
instincts. You're a killer. A natural killer. Just wait and kill!"
Reich fought himself and the controls all the way to Hudson Ramp, and he fought
the Jumper down through the crazy, shifting North River winds. The killer
instinct prompted him to crash-land in Powell's back garden. He didn't know why.
As he pounded the twisted cabin door open, a canned voice spoke: "Your
attention, please. You are liable for any damage to this vehicle. Please leave
your name and address. If we are forced to trace you, you will be liable for the
costs. Thank you."
"I'm going to be liable for a lot more damage," Reich growled. "You're welcome."
He plunged under a heavy clump of forsythia and waited with the scrambler ready.
Then he understood why he had crashed. The girl who answered Powell's phone came
out of the house and ran down through the garden toward the Jumper. Reich
waited. No one else came from the house. The girl was alone. He surged up out of
the brush and the girl spun around before she heard him. A peeper. He pulled the
trigger to first notch. She stiffened and trembled... helpless.
At the moment when he was about to pull the trigger all the way back to the big
D, instinct stopped him again. Suddenly, the booby-trap for Powell came to him.
Kill the girl inside the house. Seed her body with Detonation Bulbs and leave
that bait for Powell. Sweat broke out on the girl's swarthy face. The muscles in
her jaws twitched. Reich took her by the arm and led her up the garden to the
house. She walked with the stiff-legged gait of a scarecrow.
Inside the house, Reich led the girl through the kitchen to the living room. He
found a long, corded modern lounge and thrust the girl down on it. She was
fighting him with everything short of her body. He grinned savagely, bent down
and kissed her full on the mouth."
"My love to Powell," he said, and stepped back, raising the scrambler. Then he
lowered it.
Someone was watching him.
He turned, amost casually, and darted a quick look around the living room. There
was no one. He turned back to the girl and asked: "Are you doing that with TP,
peeper?" Then he raised the scrambler. Again he lowered it.
Someone was watching him.
This time, Reich prowled around the living room, searching behind chairs, inside
closets. There was no one. He checked the kitchen and the bath. No one. He
returned to the living room and Mary Noyes. Then thought of the upper floor. He
went to the stairs, started to mount them, and then stopped in mid-stride as
though he had been pole-axed.
Someone was watching him.
She was at the head of the stairs, kneeling and peeping through the bannisters
like a child. She was dressed like a child in tight little leotards with her
hair drawn back and tied with ribbon. She looked at him with the droll,
mischievous expression of a child. Barbara D'Courtney.
"Hello," she said.
Reich began to shake.
"I'm Baba," she said.
Reich motioned to her faintly.
She arose at once and came down the stairs, holding on to the bannister
carefully. "I'm not s'posed to," she said. "Are you Papa's friend?"
Reich took a deep breath. "I... I..." he croaked.
"Papa had to go away," she prattled. "But he's coming back right away. He told
me. If I'm a good girl, he'll bring me a present. I'm trying, but it's awful
hard. Are you good?"
"Your father? Coming b-back? Your father?"
She nodded. "Was you playing games with Aunt Mary? You kissed her. I saw it.
Papa kisses me. I like it. Does Aunt Mary like it?" She took his hand
confidently. "When I grow up I'm going to marry Papa and be his girl for always.
Do you have a girl?"
Reich pulled Barbara around and stared into her face. "Are you rocketing?" he
said hoarsely. "Do you think I'll fall into that orbit? How much did you tell
Powell?"
"That's my papa," she said. "When I ask him why his name is different from my
name he looks funny. What's your name?"
"I asked you!" Reich shouted. "How much did you tell him? Who do you think
you're fooling with that act? Answer me!"
She looked at him doubtfully, then began to cry, trying to pull away from him.
He held on to her.
"Go 'way!" she sobbed. "Let me go!"
"Will you answer me!"
"Let me go!"
He dragged her from the foot of the stairs to the lounge where Mary Noyes still
sat paralyzed. He threw the girl alongside her and stepped back again, with the
scrambler raised. Suddenly, the girl whipped upright in the chair in a listening
attitude. Her face lost its childishness and became drawn and taut. She thrust
out her legs, leaped from the lounge, ran, stopped abruptly, then appeared to
open a door. She ran forward, yellow hair flying, dark eyes wide with alarm... a
lightning flash of wild beauty.
"Father!" she screamed. "For God's sake! Father!"
Reich's heart constricted. The girl ran toward him. He stepped forward to catch
her. She stopped short, backed away, then darted to the left and ran in a half
circle, screaming wildly, her eyes fixed.
"No!" she cried. "No! For the love of Christ! Father!"
Reich pivoted and clutched at the girl. This time he caught her while she fought
and screamed. Reich was shouting too. The girl suddenly stiffened and clutched
her ears. Reich was back in the Orchid Suite. He heard the explosion and saw the
blood and brains gout out of the back of D'Courtney's head. He shook with
galvanic spasms that forced him to release the girl. She fell forward to her
knees and crawled across the floor. He saw her crouch over the waxen body.
Reich gasped for breath and beat his knuckles together painfully, fighting for
control. When the roaring in his ears subsided, he propelled himself toward
Barbara, trying to arrange his thoughts and make split-second alterations in his
plans. He had never counted on a witness. God damn Powell. He would have to kill
the girl. Could he arrange a double-murder in the---No. Not murder. Booby-trap.