THE CAT WHO WALKS THROUGH WALLS By Robert A. Heinlein
THE CAT WHO WALKS THROUGH WALLS By Robert A. Heinlein
TABLE OF CONTENTS:
THE CAT WHO WALKS THROUGH WALLS
BOOK One – Indifferent Honest
I
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X
BOOK Two – Deadly Weapon
XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
XVIII
XIX
XX
BOOK THREE – The Light at the End of the Tunnel
XXI
XXII
XXIII
XXIV
XXV
XXVI
XXVII
XXVIII
XXIX
XXX
BOOK One – Indifferent Honest
I
“Whatever you do, you’ll regret it.”
– Allan McLeod Gray 1905-1975
“We need you to kill a man.”
This stranger glanced nervously around us. I feel that a crowded restaurant is no place for such talk, as a high noise level gives only limited privacy.
I shook my head. “I’m not an assassin. Killing is more of a hobby with me. Have you had dinner?”
“I’m not here to eat. Just let me-”
“Oh, come now. I insist.” He had annoyed me by interrupting an evening with a delightful lady; I was paying him back in kind. It does not do to encourage bad manners; one should retaliate, urbanely but firmly.
That lady, Gwen Novak, had expressed a wish to spend a penny and had left the table, whereupon Herr Nameless had materialized and sat down uninvited. I had been about to tell him to leave when he mentioned a name. Walker Evans.
There is no “Walker Evans.”
Instead, that name is or should be a message from one of six people, five men, one woman, a code to remind me of a debt. It is conceivable that an installment payment on that ancient debt could require me to kill someone-possible but unlikely.
But it was not conceivable that I would kill at the behest of a stranger merely because he invoked that name.
While I felt obliged to listen, I did not intend to let him ruin my evening. Since he was sitting at my table, he could bloody well behave like an invited guest. “Sir, if you don’t want a full dinner, try the after-theater suggestions. The lapin ragout on toast may be rat rather than rabbit but this chef makes it taste like ambrosia.”
“But I don’t want-”
“Please.” I looked up, caught my waiter’s eye. “Morris.”
Morris was at my elbow at once. “Three orders of lapin ragout, please. Moms, and ask Hans to select a dry white wine for me.”
“Yes, Dr. Ames.”
“Don’t serve until the lady returns, if you please.”
“Certainly, sir.”
I waited until the waiter had moved away. “My guest will be returning soon. You have a brief time to explain yourself in private. Please start by telling me your name.”
“My name isn’t important. I-”
“Come, sir! Your name. Please.”
“I was told simply to say ‘Walker Evans.’”
“Good as far as it goes. But your name is not Walker Evans and I do not traffic with a man who won’t give his name. Tell me who you are, and it would be well to have an ID that matches your words.”
“But- Colonel, it’s far more urgent to explain who must die and why you are the man who must kill him! You must admit that!”
“I don’t have to admit anything. Your name, sir! And your ID. And please do not call me ‘Colonel’; I am Dr. Ames.” I had to raise my voice not to be drowned out by a roll of drums;
the late evening show was starting. The lights lowered and a spotlight picked out the master of ceremonies.
“All right, all right!” My uninvited guest reached into a pocket, pulled out a wallet. “But Tolliver must die by noon Sunday or we’ll all be dead!”
He flipped open the wallet to show me an ID. A small dark spot appeared on his white shirt front. He looked startled, then said softly, “I’m very sorry,” and leaned forward. He seemed to be trying to add something but blood gushed from his mouth. His head settled down onto the tablecloth.
I was up out of my chair at once and around to his right side. Almost as swiftly Moms was at his left side. Perhaps Morris was trying to help him; I was not-it was too late. A four-millimeter dart makes a small entry hole and no exit wound;