The Green Millennium by Fritz Leiber

Author:Fritz Leiber
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Open Road Media Sci-Fi & Fantasy
Published: 1953-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

XII

IT couldn't have been three minutes since Phil's capture, yet it seemed that he had been listening to Mr. Billig for years. He was sitting apprehensively on a stool in a long low room to which he had been conducted by two men in sober sports togs—obviously a cut above company guards—whom Mr. Billig addressed as Harris and Hayes. Along one of the long sides of the room were windows and a doorway leading onto a balcony of some sort, beyond which yawned perplexing darkness. Harris and Hayes stood behind Phil while Billig paced in front of him.

Just now the voice that was like a tape played at triple speed, but not so high-pitched, was saying, “Have you ever pictured $10,000,000 concretely? Think of it this way: a yacht on the Amazon, bubble-dome cabin, your private copter, a blonde, a brunette, and a redhead, yourself absolute monarch of a very interesting microcosm. Doesn't it appeal to you?"

“But I didn't take the green cat,” Phil replied quickly—Billig's speed was catching. “I don't know where it is."

“What do you want then?” Billig demanded. “Or like most people, are you afraid to say? Tell me, I've heard everything."

Phil opened his mouth, thought of Lucky, and said nothing.

“Hit him, Harris,” Billig ordered, “and don't be all day about it!"

Pain bounced like a steel ball back and forth inside Phil's skull at Harris’ dispassionate swipes. At the last one Phil felt his head go numb and his thoughts glassy. Harris’ bank cashier face swam out of sight, to be replaced by Billig's smooth mask with its lurking host of wrinkles.

Billig produced the gun he'd been carrying when Phil was caught. He informed Phil, “I propose to cut your limbs off, one by one. The beam burns, which keeps you from bleeding too fast."

All Phil's glazed mind could think was how ludicrous the word “limb” was. He wondered if Billig considered him a tree. Billig's head persisted in circling Phil like a small planet, though that may only have been the room swimming. Suddenly Phil stuck out an arm.

“All right,” he informed Billig, “Begin with this. Don't hurt the leaves."

Billig lowered the gun. “You hit him too hard,” he told Harris, “or else he likes it. There are other kinds of pain. Where's Brimstine? I told him he had only two minutes to find Jack. Hayes, frisk this man."

Slim fingers rippled through Phil's pockets and tossed Billig commonplace items. When the hand went for his right hand pocket, Phil had a belated memory and made a move to prevent it, but Harris grabbed his arms from behind.

Hayes carefully handed Billig the figurine of Mitzie Romadka in black, off the bosom frock.

Billig rattled softly to Hayes, “I'd swear this is Mary what's-her-name's work—the girl who used to do strip-tease dolls for us. She always had a touch and now it's got better.” He fingered the doll delicately, studying the reactions in Phil's face. “Do you want her?” he asked suddenly. “Would it pain you to see her

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