Read Online First Person Peculiar by Mike Resnick - Free Book Online Page A

to the third floor, checked out a number of windows, and knew I had the right place when I came to a kitchen with about fifty books piled on the floor and four days’ worth of dirty dishes in the sink. I couldn’t jimmy this lock any better than my own, but the door was one of the old wooden types and I finally threw a shoulder against it and broke it.
    “Who’s there?” demanded Brozgold, walking out of the bedroom in his pajamas and looking even more unkempt than usual.
    “Hi,” I said with a cheerful smile, shoving him back into the bedroom. “Remember me?”
    I closed the door behind us, just to be on the safe side. The room smelled of stale tobacco, or maybe it was just the stale clothing in his closet. His furniture—a dresser, a writing desk, a double bed, a couple of nightstands, and a chair—had cost him a bundle, but they hadn’t seen a coat of polish, or even a dust rag, since the day they’d been delivered.
    He was staring at me, eyes wide, a dawning look of recognition on his face. “You’re … ah … Jurgins? Johnson? I can’t remember the name on the spur of the moment. You’re the one who’s been calling me?”
    “I am,” I said, pushing him onto the chair. “And it’s William Jordan.”
    “Jordan. Right.” He looked flustered, like he wasn’t fully awake yet. “What are you doing here, Jordan? I thought we were meeting at the Institute tomorrow morning.”
    “I know you did,” I answered him. “I wanted to make sure that all your security was down there so we could have a private little chat right here and now.”
    He stood up. “Now you listen to me, Jordan—”
    I pushed him back down, hard.
    “That’s what I came here for,” I said. “And the first thing I want to listen to is the reason I was Erased.”
    “You were a criminal,” he said coldly. “You know that.”
    “What crime did I commit?”
    “You know I can’t tell you that!” he yelled, trying to hide his mounting fear beneath a blustering exterior. “Now get the hell out of here and—”
    “How many people did I kill with my bare hands?” I asked pleasantly.
    “What?”
    “I just killed a woman,” I said. “I enjoyed it. I mean, I really enjoyed it. Right at this moment I’m trying to decide how much I’d like killing a doctor.”
    “You’re crazy!” he snapped.
    “As a matter of fact,” I replied, “I have a certificate stating that the Stating of New York considers me to be absolutely sane.” I grinned. “Guess who signed it?”
    “Go away!”
    “As soon as you tell me what I want to know.”
    “I can’t!”
    “Are you still with me?” I whispered under my breath.
    Right here, said the voice.
    “Take over at the proper moment or I’m going to break my hand,” I told it.
    Ready when you are, it replied.
    “Perhaps you need a demonstration of my skill and my sincerity,” I said to Brozgold as I walked over to the dresser.
    I lifted my hand high above my head and started bringing it down toward the dull wooden surface. I winced just before impact, but it didn’t hurt a bit—and an instant later the top of the dresser and the first two drawer were split in half.
    “Thanks,” I whispered.
    Any time.
    “That could just as easily have been you ,” I said, turning back to Brozgold. “In fact, if you don’t tell me what I want to know, it will be you.”
    “You’ll kill me anyway,” he said, shaking with fear but blindly determined to stick to his guns.
    “I’ll kill you if you don’t tell me,” I said. “If you do, I promise I won’t harm you.”
    “What’s the promise of a killer worth?” he said bitterly.
    “You’re the one who gave me my sense of honor,” I pointed out. “Do you go around manufacturing liars?”
    “No. But I don’t go around manufacturing killers, either.”
    “I just want to know who I was and what I did,” I repeated patiently. “I don’t want to do it again. I just need some facts to fight off this damned voice.”
    Well, I like