The Menacers

I stopped to look at him. "Sure," I said. "Go to bed and get a good night's sleep."

"But… "He hesitated. "In the morning, don't you at least want me to cover you on the way to the airport?"

I said, "If I did, I wouldn't tell you about it here. I have it on good authority that this room is wired for sound. But just so everybody's got everything perfectly clean, including Mr. Harsek if he's listening in, I'll say it once more: I'm using no cover and no tricks. I've got nothing up my sleeve. All I've got is a 9mm Browning pistol with six cartridges in the magazine and one iii the chamber. If anything happens, or starts to happen, or even looks as if it just might happen, between here and Los Alamos, New Mexico, that pistol goes off. And whatever this lady might have said to anybody just doesn't get said. Let's go, O'Leary."

She moved past me reluctantly. I followed her out into the night. The rain had stopped, but water still dripped from buildings and trees, and thunder rolled in the distance. We proceeded along the walk to my room, which differed from the one we'd left only in that the beds stood out from the wall side by side like beds, instead of masquerading as sofas. I threw the suitcase on the nearest one, and extracted the white purse nesting among the clothes inside. It held a current American passport, an international health certificate with several immunizations including smallpox properly validated, a Mexican tourist card, and a book of travelers' checks, as well as the usual feminine maintenance equipment and supplies.

"If you're through with it," Annette O'Leary said grimly, watching, "if you're quite through with my purse, may I have it please?"

I took the essential documents, checked the purse for weapons and found none, and gave it to her. I watched her go to the dresser and do a little repair work in front of the mirror. Normally, I find that there's something kind of sexy about a woman combing her hair, particularly long hair, but tonight I got no kick out of the performance. She was just a skinny kid fixing her hair and to hell with her.

"You're really pretty incredible, dad," she said without looking around. "So you're going to shoot me just like that!" She closed her purse with a snap and brushed hairs off her shoulders. Then she pulled down her jersey and smoothed down her skirt and made a wry face. "God, I look like a tramp who's been sleeping in the woodshed!"

The green jersey looked all right to me-you can't do much to jersey-but now that she was standing up I could see that the brief white skirt was a little mussed and grubby. Well, it's only in the movies that the heroine can endure days of cruel captivity without a few smudges and wrinkles to show for it.

I grinned. "What's the matter, wouldn't they let you change your clothes?"

"Don't be silly. I wasn't about to let them get my clothes off without a fight. They'd have left me sitting there in bra and panties, or nothing but a towel, just to make sure I wouldn't try to escape. There's nothing as helpless as a girl in her undies." She gave me a sideways glance. "I mean, of course, as far as escaping is concerned."

I grinned again. She was a pleasant change from Missy Prissy and her sanctimonious expression. "Speaking of helplessness," I said, "why didn't you try doing a little work on Tony while you had the chance? Or did you?"

"That creep? Ugh." Her voice expressed total revulsion. "Besides, I'm not sure he really likes girls, if you know what I mean. Come to think of it, I'm not sure she really likes boys."

The sharpness of her tone reminded me that she had good reasons for prejudice, not to say malice. Nevertheless, the possibility she suggested was one that had already occurred to me. After all, the fake lady gym-teacher had been a fairly typical specimen. On the other hand, I reminded myself, we sometimes have to put on some fairly unsavory impersonations in the line of duty. Anyway, their sex life wasn't my worry.

Annette O'Leary said, "You haven't got a drink around here, have you, dad?"

"Sure. If you don't mind bourbon."

"It sounds but heavenly-divine. Just between you and me, I'm getting pretty damn tired of all the quaint local concoctions of rum and tequila. Have you tried a Coco Loco yet? They serve it in a coconut, using the milk for a mixer, for God's sake… Thanks."

I watched her gulp the drink I handed her, while I sipped at my own more cautiously. Presently she turned to look at me again with suspicion in her eyes.

"You're a fast man with a glass, dad. And you don't seem to be working very hard on your own. Could it be that you wouldn't mind if I got just a wee bit drunk?"

I said, "Hell, you asked for it. If you don't want it, flush it down the John."

She was watching me closely. "If I did get just a wee bit drunk, what would you do? Would you take advantage of my inebriated condition, and if so, how? I mean, would you seduce me, or just ask me a lot of silly questions?"

I said, "I'll be honest with you, Mrs. O'Leary. At the moment you interest me, biologically, just about as much as that chair over there. For seduction, you'd better come back tomorrow or the next day."

There was curiosity in her look now. "You mean… you mean killing somebody affects you like that? Oh, I heard Tony-boy talking on the phone about what a trigger-happy character you are. But I always thought a man wanted sex after blood, so to speak. Is it because you made a mistake, or because it was a woman you shot?"

I said, "O'Leary, you're a ghoul."

Her greenish eyes were watching me intently, back in the shadow of all that hair. "Oh, I see! It's not that woman that bothers you, it's the other one who got killed tonight. The one you went for in a big way, so they said. Mr. Helm, is this your quiet way of mourning the dead?"

I grinned. "You bitch," I said. "You need another drink."

When I came back with it, she was sitting on the end of one of the beds with her shoes off. "How long does the effect generally last, dad?" she asked, taking the glass. "I mean, do you lose your manhood with every dame who dies or goes off and leaves you, and if so, what brings it back and how much later?" She studied me in a speculative, malicious way. "I bet I could bring it back. Tonight. If I really wanted to. And I've never slept with a killer. It might be fun. cool At least you don't spend half the day combing your peroxide locks, like the other one. God, I can't stand a man who keeps fussing with his lousy hair."

I laughed. "You know, I'm going to miss you if I have to shoot you. You're quite a girl. Well, let's hope nobody pushes me into a spot where I have to use the gun. Which reminds me-" I sat down on the other bed and took out Vadya's automatic and checked it over. I don't ever really trust a weapon that's been loaded by somebody else, even by a pro like Vadya. I heard the red-haired girl make a small sound, like a sigh. She finished off her drink abruptly.

"You win, dad," she said softly. "I was trying to needle you, but you topped me. Put the damn thing away, please… Helm?"

"Yes?"

"I'm scared. Do you know that? I'm scared silly. What the hell have I got myself into, anyway? Please put it away."

"Sure, Mrs. O'Leary."

"Don't keep calling me that. It makes me think of the lady whose cow burned up Chicago. Call me Netta, if you've got to call me something."

"Sure, Netta. I'm Matt."

"Hit me again, will you, Matt," she said, holding out her empty glass. "I might as well be good and drunk as the way I am. And if you really have some questions you'd like answered, go ahead and ask."

Bartending again, I said in what I hoped was a casual tone of voice, "Okay, if you insist. Just what the hell did you see out there on the water that's so damned important?"

"Your prune-faced girlfriend has already taken that story down on tape. Why make me repeat myself?"

"Because some gents in Los Alamos have that tape by now, and I don't really expect them to play it for me," I said. "And I'm getting kind of curious about what kind of a yarn you spun for them. Try it on me."