Alfred Bester - The Demolished Man

"Ben," D'Courtney whispered in horror. "Listen, Ben..."

"You've been at my throat for ten years. There was room enough for both of us. Monarch and D'Courtney. All the room in time and space, but you wanted my blood, eh? My heart. My guts in your lousy hands. The Man With No Face!"

D'Courtney shook his head in bewilderment. "No, Ben. No..."

"Don't call me Ben. I'm no friend of yours. Last week I gave you one more chance to wash in decency. Me. Ben Reich. I asked for armistice. Begged for peace. Merger. I begged like a screaming woman. My father would spit on me if he were alive. Every fighting Reich would blacken my face with contempt. But I asked for peace, didn't I? Eh? Didn't I?" Reich prodded D'Courtney savagely. "Answer me."

D'Courtney's face was blanched and staring. Finally he whispered: "Yes. You asked... I accepted."

"You what?"

"Accepted. Waiting for years. Accepted."

"Accepted!"

D'Courtney nodded. His lips formed the letters: "WWHG."

"What? WWHG? Acceptance?"

The old man nodded again.

Reich shrieked with laughter. "You clumsy old liar. That's refusal.

Denial. Rejection. War." "No, Ben. No..." Reich reached down and yanked D'Courtney to his feet. The old man was

frail and light, but his weight burned Reich's arm, and the touch of the

old skin burned Reich's fingers. "So it's to be war, is it? Death?" D'Courtney shook his head and tried to make signs. "No merger. No peace. Death. That's the choice, eh?" "Ben... No." "Will you surrender?" "Yes," D'Courtney whispered. "Yes, Ben. Yes." "Liar. Clumsy old liar." Reich laughed. "But you're dangerous. I can

see it. Protective mimicry. That's your trick. You imitate the idiots and

trap us at your leisure. But not me. Never." "I'm not... your enemy, Ben." "No," Reich spat. "You're not because you're dead. You've been dead

ever since I came into this orchid coffin. Man With No Face! Can you hear me screaming for the last time? You're finished forever!"

Reich tore the gun out of his breast pocket. He touched the stud and it opened like a red steel flower. A faint groan escaped from D'Courtney when he saw the weapon. He backed away in horror. Reich caught him and held him fast. D'Courtney twisted in Reich's grasp, his face pleading his eyes glazed and rheumy. Reich transferred his grasp to the back of D'Courtney's thin neck and wrenched the head toward him. He had to fire through the open mouth for the trick to work.

At that instant, one of the orchid petals swung open, and a half-dressed girl burst into the room. In a blaze of surprise, Reich saw the corridor behind her, a bedroom door standing open at the far end; the girl, nude under a frost silk gown hastily thrown on, yellow hair flying, dark eyes wide in alarm... A lightning flash of wild beauty.

"Father!" she screamed. "For God's sake! Father!"

She ran toward D'Courtney. Reich swung quickly between them, never relaxing his hold on the old man. The girl stopped short, backed away, then darted to the left around Reich screaming. Reich pivoted and cut viciously at her with the stiletto. She eluded him but was driven back on the couch. Reich thrust the point of the stiletto between the old man's teeth and forced his jaws open.

"No!" she cried. "No! For the love of Christ! Father!"

She stumbled around the couch and ran toward her father again. Reich thrust the gun muzzle into D'Courtney's mouth and pulled the trigger. There was a muffled explosion and a gout of blood spurted from the back of D'Courtney's head. Reich let the body drop and leaped for the girl. He caught her while she fought and screamed.

Reich and the girl were screaming together. Reich shook with galvanic spasms that forced him to release the girl. The girl fell forward to her knees and crawled to the body. She moaned in pain as she snatched the gun from the mouth where it still hung. Then she crouched over the twitching body, silent, fixed, staring into the waxen face.

Reich gasped for breath and beat his knuckles together painfully. When the roaring in his ears subsided, he propelled himself toward the girl, trying to arrange his thoughts and make split second alterations in his plans. He had never counted on a witness. No one mentioned a daughter. God damn Tate! He would have to kill the girl. He---

She turned again and shot a terror-stricken glance over her shoulder. Again that lightning flash of yellow hair, dark eyes, dark brows, wild beauty. She leaped to her feet, darted out of his sodden grasp, ran to the jewelled door, flung it open and ran into the anteroom. As the door slowly closed, Reich had a glimpse of the guards still slumped on the bench and the girl running silently down the stairs with the gun in her hands... with Demolition in her hands.

Reich started. The clogged blood began pounding through his veins again. He reached the door in three strides, ran through and tore down the steps to the picture gallery. It was empty but the door to the overpass was just closing. And still no sound from her. Still no alarm. How long before she started screaming the house down?

He raced down the gallery and entered the overpass. It was still pitch dark. He blundered through, reached the head of the stairs that led down to the music room and paused again. Still no sound. No alarm.

He went down the steps. The dark silence was terrifying. Why didn't she scream? Where was she? Reich crossed toward the west arch and knew he was at the edge of the main hall by the quiet splash of the fountains. Where was the girl? In all that black silence, where was she? And the gun! Christ! The tricked gun!

A hand touched his arm. Reich jerked in alarm. Tate whispered: "I've been standing by. It took you exactly---" "You son of a bitch!" Reich burst out. "There was a daughter. Why didn't you---"

"Be quiet," Tate snapped. "Let me peep it." After fifteen seconds of burning silence, he began to tremble. In a terrified voice he whined: "My God. Oh, my God..."

His terror was the catalyst. Reich's control returned. He began

thinking again. "Shut up," he growled. "It isn't Demolition yet." "You'll have to kill her too, Reich. You'll---" "Shut up. Find her, first. Cover the house. You got her pattern from

me. Locate her. I'll be waiting at the fountain. Jet!"

He flung Tate from him and staggered to the fountain. At the jasper rim he bent and bathed his burning face. It was burgundy. Reich wiped his face and ignored the muffled sounds that came from the other side of the basin. Evidently some other person or persons unknown were bathing in wine.

He considered swiftly. The girl must be located and killed. If she still had the gun when Tate found her, the gun would be used. If she didn't? What? Strangle her? No... The fountain. She was naked under that silk gown. It could be stripped off. She could be found drowned in the fountain... just another guest who had bathed in the wine too long. But it had to be soon... soon... soon... Before this damned Sardine game was ended. Where was Tate? Where was the girl?

Tate came blundering up through the darkness, his breath wheezing.

"Well?"

"She's gone."

"You weren't gone long enough to find a louse. If this is a double-cross---"

"Who could I cross? I'm on the same road you are. I tell you her pattern's nowhere in the house. She's gone."

"Anyone notice her leave?"

"No."

"Christ! Out of the house!"

"We'd better leave too."

"Yes, but we can't run. Once we get out of here, we'll have the rest of the night to find her, but we've got to leave as though nothing's happened. Where's The Guilt Corpse?"

"In the projection room."

"Watching a show?"

"No. Still playing Sardine. They're packed in there like fish in a can. We're almost the last out here in the house."

"Wandering alone in the dark, eh? Come on."