“I’m not sure that you have the temperament for it. But, for the nonce, keep an open mind. I am not sanguine about the possibility of slowing down your defense reflex. Moreover I can assure you that, if we attempt to retrain you in the way that you ask, I will not again use you as a courier. No. Risking your life is your business
when on your own time. But your missions are always critical; I won’t use a courier whose fine edge has been deliberately blunted.”
Boss did not convince me but he made me unsure of myself. When I told him again that I was not interested in becoming a hatchet man, he did not appear to listen-just said something about getting me something to read.
I expected it-whatever-to show up on the room’s terminal. Instead, about twenty minutes after he left me, a youngster-well, younger than I am-showed up with a book, a bound book with paper pages. It had a serial number on it and was stamped “EYES ONLY” and “Need-to-Know Required” and “Top Secret SPECIAL BLUE Clearance.”
I looked at it, as anxious to handle it as a snake. “Is this for me? I think there has been a mistake.”
“The Old Man does not make mistakes. Just sign the receipt.”
I made him wait while I read the fine print. “This bit about ‘never out of my sight.’ I sleep now and then.”
“Call Archives, ask for the classified documents clerk-that’s me-and I’ll be here on the bounce. But try not to go to sleep until I get here. Try hard.”
“Okay.” I signed the receipt, looked up and found him staring with bright-eyed interest. “What are you staring at?”
“Uh- Miss Friday, you’re pretty.”
I never know what to say to that sort of thing, since I’m not. I shape up all right, surely-but I was fully clothed. “How did you know my name?”
“Why, everybody knows who you are. You know. Two weeks ago. At the farm. You were there.”
“Oh. Yes, I was there. But I don’t remember it.”
“I sure do!” His eyes were shining. “It’s the only time I’ve had a chance to be part of a combat operation. I’m glad I had a piece of it!”
(What do you do?)
I took his hand, pulled him closer to me, took his face in both my hands, kissed him carefully, about halfway between warm-sisterly and let’s-do-it! Maybe protocol called for something stronger but he was on duty and I was still on the disabled list-not fair to make implied promises that can’t be kept, especially to youngsters with stars in their eyes.
“Thank you for rescuing me,” I said to him soberly before letting go of his cheeks.
The dear thing blushed. But he seemed very pleased.
I stayed up so late reading that book that the night nurse scolded me. However, nurses need something to scold about now and then. I’m not going to quote from the incredible document. . . but listen to these subjects:
Title first: The Only Deadly Weapon. Then- Assassination as a Fine Art
Assassination as a Political Tool
Assassination for Profit
Assassins Who Changed History
The Society for Creative Euthanasia
The Canons of the Professional Assassins Guild
Amateur Assassins: Should They Be Exterminated?
Honorable Hatchet Men-Some Case Histories
“Extreme Prejudice”-“Wet Work”-Are Euphemisms Necessary?
Seminar Working Papers: Techniques & Tools
Whew! There was no good reason for my reading all of it. But I did. It had an unholy fascination. Dirty.
I resolved never to mention the possibility of changing tracks and not to bring up retraining again. Let Boss bring it up himself if he wanted to discuss it. I punched the terminal, got Archives, and stated that I needed the classified documents clerk to accept custody of classified item number such-and-such and please bring my receipt. “Right away, Miss Friday,” a woman answered.
Notoriety- I waited with considerable unease for that youngster to show up. I
am ashamed to say that this poisonous book had had a most unfortunate effect on me. It was the middle of the night, early morning; the place was dead quiet-and if the dear thing laid a hand on me, I was awfully likely to forget that I was technically an invalid. I needed a chastity girdle with a big padlock.