A helicopter with a SWAT squad took off from Boston while FBI computers chased my credit card trail down to the Swan’s Island ferry. The black helicopter was already over Cape May, speeding north by northeast, when the FBI verified the location of the cabin and sent them a satellite photo and a map.
I have to wonder, as fast as they responded, what might have happened if they’d showed up a few minutes earlier. What would the bad guys have done if they’d heard a helicopter coming? It might have prevented a bloodbath. Or precipitated a different one.
The whole bizarre story came out in Ron Duquest’s trial. I had just missed my big chance at fame and fortune.
Duquest had concocted a scheme for a kind of cross between an action feature and reality TV. He hired a couple of lowlifes in Los Angeles and had them drive out to the Midwest, then Louisiana, then Mississippi, to put Kit and me through what he conceived as a fantastic paranoiac chase scene: Who is after us? Why does the sniper weapon from my past keep cropping up? Who’s on first? It would be a post-postmodern version of classic old television serials like The Fugitive and Lost , with the delicious variation that the star didn’t know he was on camera.
He testified that he knew me well enough to trust that I wouldn’t commit any serious crime, and the men he hired were under orders to just harass us; not break any laws themselves. But that all went out the window when I actually shot at them.
They had guns, too, it turned out, and an attitude problem that escalated into a runaway kidnapping scheme. Duquest lost control of them and was afraid to call in the police.
I’ve told the rest of the story here. Except for the happy ending.
The slight scar on my cheek from the shotgun just makes me look “interesting,” Kit says, and together with the missing finger they mark the beginning and end of my decade of violence.
This decade will be parenting, we just found out last week. Starting lives rather than ending them.
We’re even getting married, continuing a family tradition that started with old Grand-dude, back in the sixties: pregnancy, then marriage.
When the other hippies asked why they bothered, he said that one thing the world didn’t need was yet another bastard.
Oh, and the cube in my finger? Nothing to do with anything. The army won’t even tell me what it was. That probably means it never worked. Typical. All that aluminum foil wasted—and I’d been so proud of myself. Our tax dollars at work.
ACE BOOKS BY JOE HALDEMAN
Worlds Apart
Dealing in Futures
Forever Peace
Forever Free
The Coming
Guardian
Camouflage
Old Twentieth
A Separate War and Other Stories
The Accidental Time Machine
Marsbound
Starbound
Earthbound
Work Done for Hire
ACE BOOKS EDITED BY JOE HALDEMAN
Body Armor: 2000
Nebula Award Stories Seventeen
Space Fighters
ACE BOOKS BY JOE HALDEMAN AND JACK C. HALDEMAN II
There Is No Darkness
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Copyright © 2014 by Joe Haldeman.
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eBook ISBN: 978-1-101-63762-3
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Haldeman, Joe W.
Work done for hire / Joe Haldeman. — First Edition.
pages cm
ISBN 978-0-425-25688-6 (hardback)
1. Authorship—Fiction. 2. Snipers—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3558.A353W67 2014
813'.54—dc23
2013034539
FIRST EDITION: January 2014
Cover photographs: rifle © Saulius L / Shutterstock; target © PILart/Shutterstock.
Cover design by Judith Lagerman.
Interior text design by Laura K. Corless.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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