Read Online A Gathering of Widowmakers (The Widowmaker #4) by Mike Resnick - Free Book Online Page A

was every chance that he'd follow the narrow corridor between the buildings and escape into the next block.
    Taking a deep breath, Nighthawk stepped between the buildings, crouched down in case a pulse of energy was coming toward his head or heart, and put a beam down the middle of the corridor. In the brief instant that it illuminated the area, he was unable to spot Bellamy.
    The corridor was about thirty yards long, and he was sure Bellamy couldn't have covered that distance, not with those muscle-bound legs. That meant the bald man had ducked into an alcove while he was planning his next move.
    All right, thought Nighthawk. Let's make sure you don't go out the back.
    He aimed his burner at the path between the buildings and melted the last ten yards of it. It would be an hour before it was cool enough to run across, and he was sure that a man of Bellamy's bulk couldn't jump it.
    He considered melting the rest of the corridor, but decided against it. If he made the whole thing too hot to cross, there was no way he could flush Bellamy out or go in after him. He was content to wait; the red-hot molten pavement had to be making Bellamy very uncomfortable.
    It took less than a minute. Then Bellamy's voice called out: "Okay, you win—I'm coming out!"
    "Toss the pulse gun out first," said Nighthawk.
    "I'm in an awkward spot. I can't throw it that far."
    "Toss it onto the burning pavement."
    The pistol flew out, making a splash of red-hot sparks.
    "Now the two weapons you had tucked in your belt."
    "I've only got one," called Bellamy.
    "Hunt around for the other," said Nighthawk. "I've got all night."
    Two more splashes.
    "Can I come out now? I'm burning up."
    "Hands behind your head, one step every three seconds."
    The huge man slowly emerged from the corridor, his massive fingers interlaced behind his head.
    "Who the hell are you?" he asked once again.
    "Just a morally outraged citizen," said Nighthawk. "Turn around."
    Bellamy turned around slowly.
    "Okay, I don't see any more weapons," said Nighthawk. "You can put your hands down."
    "How did you spot my men?" asked Bellamy.
    "The Lexonian had a bottle."
    "So?"
    "They're desert creatures," answered Nighthawk. "Any liquid, even water, is poison to their systems. And if he wasn't drinking, then he was on duty."
    "And the man?"
    "I wasn't sure about him. But even if he was working for you, he wasn't going to shoot anyone walking out of Horatio's just for the hell of it, so I took the Lexonian first, and he was so startled I had time to take him too before he even got his weapon out."
    "You're not bad for an old man."
    "Correction," said Nighthawk. "I'm damned good for an old man."
    "Yes you are," admitted Bellamy. "But you'll never get off New Barcelona alive."
    "I'm not leaving it at all," said Nighthawk. "But you are. Dead or alive—it's your call."
    Suddenly Bellamy smiled. "I don't think so." He took a step forward.
    "Your next step's your last one," Nighthawk warned him.
    This time Bellamy laughed out loud. He took another step, Nightawk fired his laser at the huge man's chest—and nothing happened.
    "Nice try, old man," he said. "You're every bit as good as you think you are—but this is Hairless Jack Bellamy you're up against."
    Nighthawk fired again. Still no effect.
    "You think I was born looking like this?" said Bellamy. "This isn't my skin. It's all artificial."
    "If it's impervious to pain, why did you run and why did the heat drive you out?"
    "I ran because I have good instincts—after all, I wasn't born with this skin—and you should have figured out by now that the heat didn't bother me at all. I just wanted to get a look at you, learn who you are and what you have against me, before I kill you." He smiled. "I'll tell you something else. My new skin is more than impervious to pain—it's invulnerable. Nothing can harm me!"
    "Bullshit," said Nighthawk. "I've counted five bodyguards so far. An invulnerable man wouldn't need any."
    He pulled his projectile pistol