Read Online Things Beyond Midnight by William F Nolan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: William F Nolan
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shielding was reactivated. The outer dome now pulsed radiantly, silvering the sea. The sharks retreated deeper into the green-black Pacific.
“It’s something about their teeth,” the girl said to Bax. “Like thousands of upthrust knives...”
“Well, they’re gone now. Forget them. Eat your curry.”
“When is the contact meeting us?” she asked.
“He’s overdue. Should be here any minute.”
“You don’t think anything’s wrong, do you?”
Bax shook his head. “What could be wrong?” He patted the inside of his coat. “I have the stuff. They pay us for it and we leave San Fran for the islands. Take a long vacation. Enjoy what we’ve earned.”
“What about a crossup?” Her voice was intense. “What if they hired another agent to take the stuff and dispose of you?”
He laughed. “You mean dispose of us, don’t you?”
The girl stared at him coldly. “No. I mean you, Bax.”
Bax dropped his half-empty wine glass. “You lousy bitch,” he said softly, slumping forward across the table.
The girl darted her hand into his coat, withdrew a small packet, and placed it inside her evening bag as a waiter rushed toward them.
“I think my husband has just had a heart seizure,” she said. “I’ll go for a doctor.”
And she calmly left the bar.
Outside, beyond the silvered fringe of light, the knife-toothed sharks circled the dome.
-6-
LYNDA
The wind was demented; it whiplashed the falling snow into Lyndas eyes, into her half-open mouth as she stood, head raised to the storm, taking it in, allowing it to engulf her. The collar of her stormcoat was open and the cold snow needled her skin.
Then the wall glowed. Someone wanted her.
Annoyed, she killed the blizzard. The wind ceased. The snow melted instantly. The ceiling-sky was, once again, blue and serene above her head. She stepped from the Weatherchamber, peeling her stormcoat and boots.
Her father was there, looking his usual dour self.
“Sorry to break into your weather, Lynda, but I must talk to you.”
She walked to the barwall, pressed an oak panel, and an iced Scotch glided into her hand. “Drink?” she offered.
“You know I never drink on the job.”
She sipped at the Scotch. “I see. You’re in town on a contract.”
“That’s right.”
“I think it’s revolting.” She shook her head. “Why don’t you get out of this business? You’re too old to go on killing. You’ll make a mistake and one of your contracts will end up doing you in. It happens all the time.”
“Not to me it won’t,” said Lynda’s father. “I know my job.”
“It’s sickening.”
The older man grunted. “It’s provided you with everything you’ve ever wanted.”
“And I guess I should be humbly grateful. As the pampered daughter of a high-level professional assassin, I’m very rich and very spoiled. I am, in fact, a totally worthless addition to society, thanks to you.”
“Then you shouldn’t mind leaving it,” he said.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means, dearest daughter, that my contract this trip is on you.”
And the beamgun he held beneath his coat took off Lynda’s head.
The pattern is fixed. It’s hopeless.
You don’t want to try again ||
To what purpose || Each time one of us penetrates, we are rejected. This planet does not want us. Well have to move beyond the system.
Would the host bodies have survived without us ||
Everyone on Earth dies eventually. But we trigger quick, violent death. It’s their way of rejecting us. We must accept the pattern.
I liked the girl in New York... Tris. And the little boy, David. We could have flowered in them.
The universe is immense. Well find a host planet that’s benign. Where well be welcome.
Were leaving Earth’s orbit now.
The stars are waiting for us. A billion billion suns!
I love you!
00:04
INTO THE LION’S DEN
This mean-spirited little shocker was written as a direct result of the “Black Dahlia” confessions. In reading about the
“It’s something about their teeth,” the girl said to Bax. “Like thousands of upthrust knives...”
“Well, they’re gone now. Forget them. Eat your curry.”
“When is the contact meeting us?” she asked.
“He’s overdue. Should be here any minute.”
“You don’t think anything’s wrong, do you?”
Bax shook his head. “What could be wrong?” He patted the inside of his coat. “I have the stuff. They pay us for it and we leave San Fran for the islands. Take a long vacation. Enjoy what we’ve earned.”
“What about a crossup?” Her voice was intense. “What if they hired another agent to take the stuff and dispose of you?”
He laughed. “You mean dispose of us, don’t you?”
The girl stared at him coldly. “No. I mean you, Bax.”
Bax dropped his half-empty wine glass. “You lousy bitch,” he said softly, slumping forward across the table.
The girl darted her hand into his coat, withdrew a small packet, and placed it inside her evening bag as a waiter rushed toward them.
“I think my husband has just had a heart seizure,” she said. “I’ll go for a doctor.”
And she calmly left the bar.
Outside, beyond the silvered fringe of light, the knife-toothed sharks circled the dome.
-6-
LYNDA
The wind was demented; it whiplashed the falling snow into Lyndas eyes, into her half-open mouth as she stood, head raised to the storm, taking it in, allowing it to engulf her. The collar of her stormcoat was open and the cold snow needled her skin.
Then the wall glowed. Someone wanted her.
Annoyed, she killed the blizzard. The wind ceased. The snow melted instantly. The ceiling-sky was, once again, blue and serene above her head. She stepped from the Weatherchamber, peeling her stormcoat and boots.
Her father was there, looking his usual dour self.
“Sorry to break into your weather, Lynda, but I must talk to you.”
She walked to the barwall, pressed an oak panel, and an iced Scotch glided into her hand. “Drink?” she offered.
“You know I never drink on the job.”
She sipped at the Scotch. “I see. You’re in town on a contract.”
“That’s right.”
“I think it’s revolting.” She shook her head. “Why don’t you get out of this business? You’re too old to go on killing. You’ll make a mistake and one of your contracts will end up doing you in. It happens all the time.”
“Not to me it won’t,” said Lynda’s father. “I know my job.”
“It’s sickening.”
The older man grunted. “It’s provided you with everything you’ve ever wanted.”
“And I guess I should be humbly grateful. As the pampered daughter of a high-level professional assassin, I’m very rich and very spoiled. I am, in fact, a totally worthless addition to society, thanks to you.”
“Then you shouldn’t mind leaving it,” he said.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means, dearest daughter, that my contract this trip is on you.”
And the beamgun he held beneath his coat took off Lynda’s head.
The pattern is fixed. It’s hopeless.
You don’t want to try again ||
To what purpose || Each time one of us penetrates, we are rejected. This planet does not want us. Well have to move beyond the system.
Would the host bodies have survived without us ||
Everyone on Earth dies eventually. But we trigger quick, violent death. It’s their way of rejecting us. We must accept the pattern.
I liked the girl in New York... Tris. And the little boy, David. We could have flowered in them.
The universe is immense. Well find a host planet that’s benign. Where well be welcome.
Were leaving Earth’s orbit now.
The stars are waiting for us. A billion billion suns!
I love you!
00:04
INTO THE LION’S DEN
This mean-spirited little shocker was written as a direct result of the “Black Dahlia” confessions. In reading about the
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