Read Online The Cat Who Walks Through Walls by Robert A. Heinlein - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robert A. Heinlein
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it.”
“Now, now, dear boy, don’t lie to me.”
“The truth! On my mother’s honor it’s the simple truth!”
I had doubts about his mother’s honor but it would have been unmannerly to express them, especially in dealing with so sorry a specimen. “Bill,” I said gently, “you are not a proctor. Must I explain why I am certain?” (Chief Proctor Franco is a System-class martinet. If one of his stooges had shown up for morning roll call looking—and stinking—the way this poor slob did, the delinquent would have been lucky merely to have been shipped dirtside.) “I will if you insist. Did you ever have a pin stuck under a fingernail, then the outer end of the pin heated? It improves one’s memory.”
Gwen said eagerly, “A bobby pin works better. Senator—more mass to hold the heat. I’ve got one right here. Can I do it to him? Can I?”
“You mean, ‘May I,’ do you not? No, dear girl, I want you to continue to keep Bill under your sights. If it becomes necessary to resort to such methods, I won’t ask a lady to do it for me.”
“Aw, Senator, you’ll get soft-hearted and let up on him just when he’s ready to spout. Not me! Let me show you—please!”
“Well…”
“Keep that bloodthirsty bitch away from me!” Bill’s voice was shrill.
“ Bill! You will apologize to the lady at once. Otherwise I will let her do to you whatever she wishes.”
He moaned again. “Lady, I apologize. I’m sorry. But you scare it right out of me. Please don’t use a bobby pin on me—I seen a guy once had that done to him.”
“Oh, it could be worse,” Gwen assured him pleasantly. “Twelve-gauge copper wire conducts the heat much better and there are interesting places in the male body to use it. More efficient. Quicker results.” She added thoughtfully, “Senator, I’ve got some copper wire in my small case. If you’ll hold this pistol for a moment, I’ll get it for you.”
“Thank you, my dear, but it may not be needed; I mink Bill wants to say something.”
“It’s no trouble, sir. Don’t you want me to have it ready?”
“Perhaps. Let’s see. Bill? What did you do with that proctor?”
“I didn’t, I never saw him! Just two skins said they had a cash job for me. I don’t make ’em, never seen ’em, they ain’t with it. But there are always new ones and Fingers said they passed. He—”
“Hold it. Who is ‘Fingers’?”
“Uh, he’s mayor of our alley. Okay?”
“More details, please. Your alley?”
“Man’s got to sleep somewhere, ain’t he? VIP like you has got a compartment with his name on it. I should be so lucky! Home is where it is—right?”
“I think you’re telling me that your alley is your home. Where is it? Ring, radius, and acceleration.”
“Uh…that’s not exactly how it is.”
“Be rational. Bill. If it’s inside the main cylinder, not off in one of the appendages, its location can be described that way.”
“Maybe so but I can’t describe it that way because that’s not how you get there. And I won’t lead you the way you have to go because—” His face screwed up in utter despair and he looked about ten years old. “Don’t let her hot-wire me and don’t let her shoot me a little bit at a time. Please! Just space me and get it over with—okay?”
“Senator?”
“Yes, Mistress Hardesty?”
“Bill’s afraid that, if you hurt him enough, he will tell you where he hides to sleep. Other nightwalkers sleep there, too; that’s the point. I suspect that the Golden Rule isn’t big enough to hide him from those others. If he tells you where they sleep, they’ll kill him. Probably not quickly.”
“Bill, is that why you’re being stubborn?”
“Talked too much already. Space me.”
“Not while you’re alive. Bill; you know things I need to know and I intend to squeeze them out of you if it takes copper wire and Mistress Hardesty’s most whimsical notions. But I may not need the answer to the question I asked you.
“Now, now, dear boy, don’t lie to me.”
“The truth! On my mother’s honor it’s the simple truth!”
I had doubts about his mother’s honor but it would have been unmannerly to express them, especially in dealing with so sorry a specimen. “Bill,” I said gently, “you are not a proctor. Must I explain why I am certain?” (Chief Proctor Franco is a System-class martinet. If one of his stooges had shown up for morning roll call looking—and stinking—the way this poor slob did, the delinquent would have been lucky merely to have been shipped dirtside.) “I will if you insist. Did you ever have a pin stuck under a fingernail, then the outer end of the pin heated? It improves one’s memory.”
Gwen said eagerly, “A bobby pin works better. Senator—more mass to hold the heat. I’ve got one right here. Can I do it to him? Can I?”
“You mean, ‘May I,’ do you not? No, dear girl, I want you to continue to keep Bill under your sights. If it becomes necessary to resort to such methods, I won’t ask a lady to do it for me.”
“Aw, Senator, you’ll get soft-hearted and let up on him just when he’s ready to spout. Not me! Let me show you—please!”
“Well…”
“Keep that bloodthirsty bitch away from me!” Bill’s voice was shrill.
“ Bill! You will apologize to the lady at once. Otherwise I will let her do to you whatever she wishes.”
He moaned again. “Lady, I apologize. I’m sorry. But you scare it right out of me. Please don’t use a bobby pin on me—I seen a guy once had that done to him.”
“Oh, it could be worse,” Gwen assured him pleasantly. “Twelve-gauge copper wire conducts the heat much better and there are interesting places in the male body to use it. More efficient. Quicker results.” She added thoughtfully, “Senator, I’ve got some copper wire in my small case. If you’ll hold this pistol for a moment, I’ll get it for you.”
“Thank you, my dear, but it may not be needed; I mink Bill wants to say something.”
“It’s no trouble, sir. Don’t you want me to have it ready?”
“Perhaps. Let’s see. Bill? What did you do with that proctor?”
“I didn’t, I never saw him! Just two skins said they had a cash job for me. I don’t make ’em, never seen ’em, they ain’t with it. But there are always new ones and Fingers said they passed. He—”
“Hold it. Who is ‘Fingers’?”
“Uh, he’s mayor of our alley. Okay?”
“More details, please. Your alley?”
“Man’s got to sleep somewhere, ain’t he? VIP like you has got a compartment with his name on it. I should be so lucky! Home is where it is—right?”
“I think you’re telling me that your alley is your home. Where is it? Ring, radius, and acceleration.”
“Uh…that’s not exactly how it is.”
“Be rational. Bill. If it’s inside the main cylinder, not off in one of the appendages, its location can be described that way.”
“Maybe so but I can’t describe it that way because that’s not how you get there. And I won’t lead you the way you have to go because—” His face screwed up in utter despair and he looked about ten years old. “Don’t let her hot-wire me and don’t let her shoot me a little bit at a time. Please! Just space me and get it over with—okay?”
“Senator?”
“Yes, Mistress Hardesty?”
“Bill’s afraid that, if you hurt him enough, he will tell you where he hides to sleep. Other nightwalkers sleep there, too; that’s the point. I suspect that the Golden Rule isn’t big enough to hide him from those others. If he tells you where they sleep, they’ll kill him. Probably not quickly.”
“Bill, is that why you’re being stubborn?”
“Talked too much already. Space me.”
“Not while you’re alive. Bill; you know things I need to know and I intend to squeeze them out of you if it takes copper wire and Mistress Hardesty’s most whimsical notions. But I may not need the answer to the question I asked you.
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