Colossus and Crab by D. F. Jones

Author:D. F. Jones
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780425043271
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 1979-06-01T19:27:09+00:00

Chapter XV

FLOATING UP FROM deep sleep to the surface of a whole new day, Forbin had the same problems and anxieties as twenty-four hours previously, but at that precise moment he didn’t appreciate it.

Against the odds, he had slept well, and knew it. No nightmare remembrances of Mars or the Martians in any form whatever; no vision of a nuclear missile plunging straight for him. Nothing.

Something had happened. For one, two seconds, he was genuinely at a loss, and then he knew.

Angela! He blushed as disjointed memories came back. There’d been talk, yes, a good deal of talk … then there was a clear picture of being in his bath. She’d washed his back-and more …. God, he must have been drunk! Coffee came into it somewhere. Black coffee …. And somewhere else, he had gotten her to promise to go “on vacation” at once. Couldn’t have been that drunk, for he certainly had given her details: fly to New York, small hotel, and keep two-hourly contact with the local Colossus office. She’d been difficult but, without scruple, he’d used the most powerful lever he had: “if you love me, etc…. He’d pottered around, dressed in nothing but a towel, had had a look at the stars from the terrace - that hadn’t lasted long-and then bed … and she’d been in it.

That had been a tricky moment, and they’d both known it. The last woman in it had been his wife, Cleo, and she’d been there, on and off, for five years… . Strangely, he hadn’t given that much thought: too busy explaining that while he was very fond of her, he could not say he loved her. Angela had taken that in silence, watching him. Then he’d warned her he’d be no good, and that had broken her tension. She’d laughed and put the lights out, leaving him to work out his own salvation in the face of her attack. In due course - not the first time - he had… .

Of course, she’d gone. He had a hazy recollection of her kissing him gently as she got out of bed, her body rose-pink in the dawn light, leaving only a crumpled pillow and a faint trace of her perfume.

He had no sense of guilt in relation to his wife. He felt fine, in better shape than he could remember for weeks - months? Above all, he had a deep sense of gratitude to Angela. Certainly he did not love her, but equally certainly, he was a lot fonder of her than he had been the night before.

Angela! What a bloody awful name.

He showered, dressed, ordered and ate an old-fashioned English breakfast: fried eggs, bacon, and fried bread followed by toast, marmalade and butter, and two pots of strong tea. That would raise a few eyebrows in his kitchen, and any surmise would be confirmed when the maid made the bed.

So what the hell? His days might be numbered, but he was the Ruler of the world - and in a curiously elevated way, felt like it.

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