(eng) Leigh Brackett by The Big Jump

Author:The Big Jump [Jump, The Big]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

NINE

Many voices spoke at once. French was bending over him, asking where he was hurt. Peter Cochrane stood up, demanding silence. Simon was leaning forward, his eyes intent. Bill Stanley put down his knife and fork. His hands were seized with an uncontrollable trembling. There was a pallor on him and a sweating. Comyn laughed.

“You should have made it good,” he said to William Stanley. “Peter would have. Simon would have. But not you. You haven’t that kind of guts.”

Stanley said, “I don’t—”

“Oh, yes, you do. Hiding your face didn’t hide the rest of you. I know your shoes, your clothes, the way you move. I know you, now.”

Stanley pushed his chair back a little, as though he would like to get away from Comyn, from all of them. He spoke again, but his words were not clear.

“It’s different when you have to do it yourself, isn’t it?” Comyn said. “Not nice and tidy like just writing a check. You have to figure on maybe missing the first time. You have to be able to go on hitting a man until he stays down. You have to have a strong stomach and no nerves, like Washburn. Maybe with a gun you could have done it, but not with your hands—not ever with your hands.”

French was trying to peel his shirt back, and Comyn pushed him away. Simon had risen. His eyes met Peter’s. Peter’s face got white around the lips. Suddenly he took hold of Stanley’s jacket.

“Did you do this, Bill?”

Stanley sat perfectly still, looking up at Peter. His eyes began to get a slow hot gleam in them that grew brighter and uglier, and then all at once he struck Peter’s hand away and sprang up. It seemed as though that rough touch on him had acted as a key to turn loose everything that had been bottled up in him under pressure for a long time.

It came out quietly, very quietly, as though his throat was pulled too tight to make much noise in it.

“Yes, I did. And keep your hands off me.”

He moved back a step or two, away from them. Nobody spoke around the tables. They were all watching, with their forks halfway to their mouths. Simon started forward, but Peter caught him.

“That won’t do any good right now,” he said. And then to Stanley: “You have the log books.”

“I had them. I burned them.” He looked from Peter to Simon and back again. “Getting them was easy. You were all so excited, thinking what you might be going to get. There were only two of them—thin little books. I saw them first and stuck them inside my shirt, as easy as that.”

“You burned them,” Peter said, and Stanley jerked his head.

“I memorized them. I have a good memory.” He turned on Comyn. “All right, go ahead. Tell them. You’ve made trouble for me from the beginning. I’d have had you killed on Mars, only Peter stopped it.”

Comyn said, “Doesn’t Johnny weigh a little heavy on your soul?”

“No.

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