Alfred Bester - The Demolished Man

"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.