The Revengers Read Online Free PDF Page A

don’t have to do that!” she said quickly. “I’m perfectly capable—”
    “Sure you are,” I said. “The question is, am I? Let’s see how it turns out.”
    “It smells good . . . Matt.”
    “Yes.”
    She hesitated, and I saw that she was uncomfortable about something. “I hope ... I mean, what I’m trying to say . . . I didn’t mean to give you a wrong impression, if you know what I mean, dragging you inside like that. I was just putting on an act for her. I mean—”
    I grinned. Her embarrassment made it quite obvious what she meant. “You mean you don’t really want to fuck tonight.”
    She gave me an honest-to-God blush. “If we have to be so goddamned explicit, yes. I mean, no. There should be a little ... a little respect, shouldn’t there? A small period of ... of mourning. Anyway, I’m pretty damned tired and morbid.” She giggled abruptly. “You wouldn’t want me to break into tears in the middle of it, would you?”
    I said, “Actually, I wasn’t planning on laying the widow-lady right on top of the just-filled grave. But since I'm to be deprived of sex, maybe I’d better have a little more booze to console me. I think there’s some left in the martini pitcher. And then you can set the table. No heavy conversation. We’ll analyze the situation some more after we eat.”
    The hash turned out quite well, if I do say so myself. The secret is a cast-iron frying pan hot enough to turn everything brown and crusty instead of merely warming the mixed-up mess; some dexterous stirring and turning helps. Martha ate hungrily and I managed a second helping myself. The last food I’d had, if you want to strain the definition of the word, had been on TWA. Martha stopped me when I started to clear the table.
    “No, leave the dishes alone, damn you. And I’ll do the coffee. Whose house is this, anyway? You go out into the living room and sit.”
    I followed orders and started to reread the Brand article but I found it hard to concentrate. I was very much aware, in a sexless way—well, an almost sexless way—of the quiet, comfortable, undemanding house and the starry New Mexico sky outside and the pretty girl making busy noises in the kitchen. I’d had this once, even to some offspring asleep in the rear of the house. I wondered how the kids were doing and if Beth was still happy in Nevada with her rancher-husband, a pretty nice and competent guy. I don’t check on them very often. I don’t like to leave a trail that way. There are people around who’ll use almost anything against you.
    But this is a very good specimen, Mr. Helm. A little young for you, perhaps, but bright and brave, from durable and intelligent heredity, on the one side you know about, at least. Attractive to look at and, the record shows, quite a pleasant companion in bed and elsewhere. An unfortunate compulsion to save the world, perhaps, but even that seems to be subdued nowadays. Maybe she’s outgrown it. Too bad in a way, the world certainly needs it, but more comfortable to have around. All in all, a quite acceptable candidate, already well tested under rigorous conditions. And it would be pleasant to have a place like this to come back to and somebody like this to come back to, for as long as you manage to make it back at all, which presumably won’t be forever.
    But you tried it once, you gave it a good long try, and it didn’t work then, so why should it work now? And she’s a hell of a nice kid who ought to do better for herself than a sick gladiator retired from the bloody arena, or even a healthy one not yet retired. And there’s always the danger that somebody wanting to hurt you will take it out on anybody you allow to become too important to you. So you just leave her alone, hear? Anyway, he’s all right to work for, he’s very good to work for, but would you want him as a father-in-law, for God’s sake?
    I watched her come in with the coffee tray, the loose striped garment swirling around her. She set the