Store of the Worlds: The Stories of Robert Sheckley Read Online Free PDF

out on his seventh hunt.
    He spent the rest of the morning memorizing the data on his Victim, then filed the letter.
    Janet Patzig lived in New York. That was good. He enjoyed hunting in a big city, and he had always wanted to see New York. Her age wasn’t given, but to judge from her photographs, she was in her early twenties.
    Frelaine phoned for his jet reservations to New York, then took a shower. He dressed with care in a new Protec-Suit Special made for the occasion. From his collection he selected a gun, cleaned and oiled it, and fitted it into the fling-out pocket of the suit. Then he packed his suitcase.
    A pulse of excitement was pounding in his veins. Strange, he thought, how each killing was a new thrill. It was something you just didn’t tire of, the way you did of French pastry or women or drinking or anything else. It was always new and different.
    Finally, he looked over his books to see which he would take.
    His library contained all the good books on the subject. He wouldn’t need any of his Victim books, like L. Fred Tracy’s Tactics for the Victim , with its insistence on a rigidly controlled environment, or Dr. Frisch’s Don’t Think Like a Victim!
    He would be very interested in those in a few months, when he was a Victim again. Now he wanted hunting books.
    Tactics for Hunting Humans was the standard and definitive work, but he had it almost memorized. Development of the Ambush was not adapted to his present needs.
    He chose Hunting in Cities , by Mitwell and Clark; Spotting the Spotter , by Algreen; and The Victim’s Ingroup , by the same author.
    Everything was in order. He left a note for the milkman, locked his apartment, and took a cab to the airport.
    In New York, he checked into a hotel in the midtown area, not too far from his Victim’s address. The clerks were smiling and attentive, which bothered Frelaine. He didn’t like to be recognized so easily as an out-of-town killer.
    The first thing he saw in his room was a pamphlet on his bed-table. How to Get the Most out of your Emotional Catharsis , it was called, with the compliments of the management. Frelaine smiled and thumbed through it.
    Since it was his first visit to New York, he spent the afternoon just walking the streets in his Victim’s neighborhood. After that, he wandered through a few stores.
    Martinson and Black was a fascinating place. He went through their Hunter-Hunted room. There were lightweight bulletproof vests for Victims, and Richard Arlington hats, with bulletproof crowns.
    On one side was a large display of a new .38 caliber sidearm.
    â€œUse the Malvern Strait-shot!” the ad proclaimed. “ECB-approved. Carries a load of twelve shots. Tested deviation less than .001 inches per 1000 feet. Don’t miss your Victim! Don’t risk your life without the best! Be safe with Malvern!”
    Frelaine smiled. The ad was good, and the small black weapon looked ultimately efficient. But he was satisfied with the one he had.
    There was a special sale on trick canes, with concealed four-shot magazine, promising safety and concealment. As a young man, Frelaine had gone in heavily for novelties. But now he knew that the old-fashioned ways were usually best.
    Outside the store, four men from the Department of Sanitation were carting away a freshly killed corpse. Frelaine regretted missing the take.
    He ate dinner in a good restaurant and went to bed early.
    Tomorrow he had a lot to do.
    The next day, with the face of his Victim before him, Frelaine walked through her neighborhood. He didn’t look closely at anyone. Instead, he moved rapidly, as though he were really going somewhere, the way an old Hunter should walk.
    He passed several bars and dropped into one for a drink. Then he went on, down a side street off Lexington Avenue.
    There was a pleasant sidewalk café there. Frelaine walked past it.
    And there she was! He could never mistake the face. It was Janet Patzig, seated