Power, The Read Online Free PDF Page B

After they had gone, he retrieved the Sunday papers that somebody had left behind and read everything including the want ads. Then he ordered more coffee and battled grimly with his nerves, looking up apprehensively every time somebody came in. When the morning finally came, he went to a Catholic church and sat through every Mass, hearing nothing of what was said but absorbing the comforting presence of the people in the pews. After lunch he went to a movie and saw a complete show. Twice.
    People gave him a feeling of security, he was afraid to be without them. And he dreaded the evening when the streets would be empty and he would have to go home alone. He could go to the movies again, he thought—maybe take in an all-night feature. But the crowd would thin out at midnight and the interior of a deserted movie house would be just as bad as the lonely streets.
    He finally went back up north to a druggist he knew and talked the man out of a small box of sleeping pills. Perhaps the danger was not in going to sleep but in staying awake … .
    He roamed the crowded streets until six and then, without giving it any conscious thought, walked over to a little spaghetti house that was open Sunday night and which the bachelor faculty members had made their own particular hangout. He still hadn’t called Olson. He hadn’t gotten his courage up to that point.
    He didn’t frighten easy, he thought, but this time he was scared to the point where he was close to being physically sick. No longer to be his own master, to feel that he was being used , that somebody had—in effect—put him on as casually as they would put on a glove … .
    He spotted Eddy DeFalco alone in one of the booths and immediately tried to shrink back out of sight. DeFalco was too good a bet, too logical a choice for whatever had stalked him the night before.
    “Hey, Bill, let’s be sociable—come on over!”
    The restaurant was fairly crowded and he had a feeling that safety lay in numbers. He walked over woodenly and sat down.
    DeFalco started to butter a thick slice of Italian bread. “You changing your diet? You’ve never had spaghetti on Sunday night before.”
    I’m not good at acting, Tanner thought. I wonder if my suspicion shows. Have to be casual.
    “I’m not having it now, either. Just coffee.”
    DeFalco’s eyes narrowed. “You look white as a sheet, Bill. Feeling okay?”
    No, I don’t Eddy. And maybe you know why … . “ I guess I’m a little jumpy.”
    DeFalco looked sympathetic. “Everybody’s upset. Nobody knows for sure yet whether it’s coincidence or exactly what it is.”
    He had a curious feeling of disorientation, as if he and DeFalco were talking about two different things. “I wish to God that I had never gone to that meeting yesterday,” he said carefully.
    “Who doesn’t? I’m not too happy I was there myself.”
    He couldn’t help talking about it, even to DeFalco who might know all the answers. It was like reminding himself over and over that he wasn’t going to use a certain word and then having the pressure build up until he had to. And Eddy might say something about it that would give him a clue … .
    “Ed, how do you feel towards him?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Do you dislike him, do you hate him?”
    “You know damned well I’ll feel towards him exactly the way he wants me to.” DeFalco carefully wound up a forkful of spaghetti. “If I have my own way, I suppose I’ll dislike him. In fact, I might even hate his guts.”
    “Why?”
    “How well do you know me?”
    Edward Marconi DeFalco, Tanner thought. Thick, black hair, high cheekbones, and full, sensuous lips. A beach-boy tan and physical build, just beginning to flesh out the way most athletes did later in life. The crooner type in light gray slacks and charcoal sport coat. A lot of men disliked him on sight and so did those women who considered him too “pretty” to be entirely masculine and then made the mistake of giving him a chance to