Read Online Ballroom of the Skies by John D. MacDonald - Free Book Online Page A

made its lightning calculation of probability. She pulled all screens tight, probed the fat man. In the same split second as the hard expected “ping” occurred, she slid the stud on the catch of her handbag—a fraction of a second too late. He had blanketed her, and she retaliated quickly. Deadlock. Neither of them could yell for help now. She turned casually. He had taken the seat behind them. She looked into his bland eyes.
    This time, she realized with sinking heart, they had miscalculated badly. Miguel Larner, in spite of the Branson fiasco, had thought he could retrieve it with the assignment of two Stage Two agents. So far she could count five that Shard had assigned.
    The fat man tried a probe again. Apparently he thought she was a Stage One, who could be broken down. It reduced her respect for him, but that respect returned immediately as she realized he had used it as a feint, that he was busy on an illusion. A very respectable illusion. A uniformed policeman angrily waving the bus into a side street. It was almost real enough to deceive her. She thought quickly. Block the side street with something.
    A blow crashed against the back of her head. As she fell forward off the seat, she cursed her own stupidity in not thinking of a definite physical attack, the most elementary move, and therefore one of the cleverest. Though consciousness slipped a bit, she held the screens tight, recovered. Lorin was helping her up.
    “That fat guy hit me in the back of the head, mister!”
    Lorin turned. “What’s the idea, friend?”
    This time Karen Voss was ready with the illusion. The fat fist struck Dake Lorin in the face so quickly that Karen guessed Dake had no chance to notice that the fat man’s arms had stayed at his sides. She was pleased to note that Lorin had beautiful reflexes. The fat man’s head snapped back and he crumpled in the seat. She probed deeply andviciously, realizing with satisfaction that Shard would be minus one Stage Two agent until probe wounds healed, in six months. She had broken through the first two screens.
    She saw a chance to simplify things. Illusion made the fat man’s head flop over at a crazy angle. This could be done with artistry. She gave the passengers a loud male voice. “Hey, you killed him!”
    She took the stunned Lorin by the arm. “Come on, let’s get off this thing. There’s going to be trouble.”
    She yanked the cord and pushed at Lorin, followed him to the front of the bus. He got off blindly. She took his wrist. “Come on.” People yelled at them. No one pursued. They would quiet down when they saw the fat man was all right.
    Karen hurried down the block with him and around a corner. She stopped and leaned against the side of a scabrous building, dipped again into her blouse pocket to bring out a cigarette and hang it on her lower lip. Lorin lit the cigarette for her with a hand that trembled. She could sense his emotions. Distaste for her, annoyance with the situation, a vague shame that he had run. She knew that he was a troubled man, as who wouldn’t be with the illusions Shard’s agent had provided for him to block the newspaper article. Yet she was slightly uneasy. She had studied Branson and Lorin. She knew them well And now Lorin seemed a bit
too
upset. She wished she dared take him under full control. He might be hard to handle.
    “I cert’ny want to thank you, mister.”
    “That’s all right. I hope I didn’t get us in trouble, miss.”
    “Karen. Karen Voss. I bet I know you. I bet you’re Dake Lorin. I used to see your picture next to your column all the time.”
    He looked mildly pleased. “Don’t tell me you used to read it.”
    “Sure. Maybe you wouldn’t think so. I go for that stuff. Politics, economics, international relations. I got a friend. He’s got money. Lots of money. He was saying just the other day he’d like to see you back in business. He says you used to make a lot of sense. Maybe he’d back you—buy space in a paper or