First Lensman E. E. Smith (superbooks4u txt) đ
- Author: E. E. Smith
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âDefinitely not. I can do it myself and still stay very much in character.â ââ ⊠No, I donât know her. Not surprising, of course, since the policy here is never to let the right hand know what the left is doing. How about you, Mase? Have you got a little girlfriend, too?â
âYea, verily, brother; but not little. More my size.â Northrop pointed out a tall, trim brunette, strolling along with the effortless, consciously unconscious poise of the professional model.
âHmâ ââ ⊠mâ ââ ⊠m. I donât know her, either,â Costigan reported, âbut both of them are wearing four-inch spy-ray blocks and are probably wired up like Christmas trees. By inference, P-gun proof. I canât penetrate, of course, but maybe I can get a viewpoint.â ââ ⊠Youâre right, Jack. Nostrils plugged. Anti-thionite, anti-Vee-Two, anti-everything. In fact, antisocial. Iâll spread their pictures around and see if anybody knows either of them.â
He did so, and over a hundred of the Patrolâs shrewdest operativesâ âupon this occasion North America had invaded Eridan in forceâ âstudied and thought. No one knew the tall brunette, butâ â
âI know the blonde.â This was Parker of Washington, a Service ace for twenty five years. âââHellcat Hazelâ DeForce, the hardest-boiled babe unhung. Watch your step around her; sheâs just as handy with a knife and knockout drops as she is with a gun.â
âThanks, Parker. Iâve heard of her.â Costigan was thinking fast. âFreelance. No way of telling who sheâs working for at the moment.â This was a statement, not a question.
âOnly that it would have to be somebody with a lot of money. Her price is high. That all?â
âThatâs all, fellows.â Then, to Jack and Northrop: âMy thought is that you two guys are completely out-classedâ âout-weighed, out-numbered, out-manned, and out-gunned. Undressed, youâre sitting ducks; and if you put out any screens itâll crystallize their suspicions and theyâll grab you right thenâ âor maybe even knock you off. Youâd better get out of here at full blast; you canât do any more good here, the way things are.â
âSure we can!â Kinnison protested. âYou wanted a diversion, didnât you?â
âYes, but you already.â ââ âŠâ
âWhat weâve done already isnât a patch to what we can do next. We can set up such a diversion that the boys can walk right on the thionite-carrierâs heels without anybody paying any attention. By the way, you donât know yet who is going to carry it, do you?â
âNo. No penetration at all.â
âYou soon will, bucko. Watch our smoke!â
âWhat do you think youâre going to do?â Costigan demanded, sharply.
âThis.â Jack explained. âAnd donât try to say no. Weâre on our own, you know.â
âWeâ ââ ⊠lâ ââ ⊠lâ ââ ⊠it sounds good, and if you can pull it off it will help no end. Go ahead.â
The demurely luscious blonde stared disconsolately at the bulletin board, upon which another thirty minutes was being added to the time of arrival of a ship already three hours late. She picked up a book, glanced at its cover, put it down. Her hand moved toward a magazine, drew back, dropped idly into her lap. She sighed, stifled a yawn prettily, leaned backward in her seatâ âin such a position, Jack noticed, that he could not see into her nostrilsâ âand closed her eyes. And Jack Kinnison, coming visibly to a decision, sat down beside her.
âPardon me, miss, but I feel just like you look. Can you tell me why convention decrees that two people, stuck in this concourse by arrivals that nobody knows when will arrive, have got to suffer alone when they could have so much more fun suffering together?â
The girlâs eyes opened slowly; she was neither startled, nor afraid, norâ âit seemedâ âeven interested. In fact, she gazed at him with so much disinterest and for so long a time that he began to wonderâ âwas she going to play sweet and innocent to the end?
âYes, conventions are stupid, sometimes,â she admitted finally, her lovely lips curving into the beginnings of a smile. Her voice, low and sweet, matched perfectly the rest of her charming self. âAfter all, perfectly nice people do meet informally on shipboard; why not in concourses?â
âWhy not, indeed? And Iâm perfectly nice people, I assure you. Willi Borden is the name. My friends call me Bill. And you?â
âBeatrice Bailey; Bee for short. Tell me what you like, and weâll talk about it.â
âWhy talk, when we could be eating? Iâm with a guy. Heâs out on the field somewhereâ âa big bruiser with a pencil-stripe black mustache. Maybe you saw him talking to me a while back?â
âI think so, now that you mention him. Too bigâ âmuch too big.â The girl spoke carelessly, but managed to make it very clear that Jack Kinnison was just exactly the right size. âWhy?â
âI told him Iâd have supper with him. Shall we hunt him up and eat together?â
âWhy not? Is he alone?â
âHe was, when I saw him last.â Although Jack knew exactly where Northrop was, and who was with him, he had to play safe; he did not know how much this âBee Baileyâ really knew. âHe knows a lot more people around here than I do, though, so maybe he isnât now. Let me carry some of that plunder?â
âYou might carry those booksâ âthanks. But the field is so bigâ âhow do you expect to find him? Or do you know where he is?â
âUh-uh!â he denied, vigorously. This was the critical moment. She certainly wasnât suspiciousâ âyetâ âbut she was showing signs of not wanting to go out there, and if she refused to go.â ââ ⊠âTo be honest, I donât care whether I find him or notâ âthe idea of ditching him appeals to me more and more. So how about this? Weâll dash out to the third dockâ âjust so I wonât have to actually lie about looking for himâ âand dash right back here. Or wouldnât you rather have it a twosome?â
âI refuse to answer, by advice of counsel.â The girl laughed gaily, but her answer was plain enough.
Their rate of progress was by no means a dash, and Kinnison did not
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