at him were definitely unfriendly.
Again, he thought. No. I'm not going to leave, and I'm not going to have any trouble, either. A nice quiet drink, and
then dinner
Someone came up to stand beside him. Evan turned with a slight smile on his face. And didn't quite swallow.
"Well, Mr. 'Smith,' " he said. "And how are you tonight?"
"Smith" didn't say anything-for a few seconds, which hardly mattered, for Evan could see the answer to his question
perfectly well. The man's face was swollen to about a third again the size it had been yesterday evening. He had been
bruised by experts, and Evan knew who the experts were. It was very embarrassing.
"Well enough," "Smith" said. And something poked Evan in the ribs, hard. "Gonna be better in a moment, though."
There were other people rising from their seats in the bar. Evan cursed silently for letting himself be distracted by the
work of the day and the pleasant look of the bar. It had been well-lighted and airy, not like a dive at all. He had let that
fool him. That had been a mistake.
And there were more people in this bar than there had been last night, Joss was nowhere in sight, and there was no
way to call him, not right this moment, not with the bad end of a blaster stuck into his side. Evan breathed deeply once,
and the slight movement helped him feel the muzzle aperture. At least three-quarters of an inch. Oh, my maiden aunts,
feel the flare on that. I'll have a hole in me you could install an Underground tube in. Unless something happens.
But at least it's not a knife
He was being surrounded by those unfriendly faces, three deep. As far as he could tell, none of these people had
guns, thank heaven, but all of them, looked like they
SPACE COPS 71
wished they did. Evan found himself staring at an assortment of gapped teeth, radiation-burnt, chewed-up noses and
lips, and scabby, patchy, half-balding scalps such as he hadn't seen since the other side of the Belts, where there were
also a lot of people who tended to be careless about their exposure to cosmic radiation. A lot of these people would
come down with cancer within the decade, but he doubted they cared about that at the moment. His demise seemed to
be a much more popular topic.
"Smith" was grinning at him. "You sops," he said. "You think mighty well of yourselves, insulting good hardworking
people, starting fights in bars. But you're not so tough when you're alone, are you?" He went off into breathy laughter
that smelled of cheap vodka and various food byproducts. "No, indeed. And we're gonna put a few nice little holes in
you so you don't come bothering us a-"
The second or third sentence of a gloat, Evan had noticed some years back, was always a good time to do something.
He did it without taking his eyes from "Smith's": simply put his hand around Smith's gun hand, and turned it right
around in one quick motion till the muzzle was dug deep into "Smith's" belly. "Smith's" eyes widened.
"Now you go right ahead and pull that trigger," Evan said softly. "Go on, Mr. 'Smith.' Or do you need some help?" He
felt for "Smith's" trigger finger, felt it struggling to slip out of the loop, refused to let it do so. Evan started applying
pressure. "You know," Evan said, "you're the kind of guy who could get thrown in jail for assaulting a Solar officer.
Except you probably won't live to." He pressed harder. "You'll probably wind up with a great fat hole in your middle.
And so will the people standing behind you.'' Evan added, thoughtfully.
The people behind Smith abruptly moved to either side. This isn 't going to last for long. Evan thought. / can't resort
to silly business like taking this man hostage. This has to be won straight out if these people are ever going
72 SPACE COPS
to tell us anything we need to hear. Dammit, why didn 't I leave my suit on ?
"Then again," Evan said, "it'd be a waste of the taxpayer's money to have to make out the paperwork
after killing you. Not to mention that the cleaning people here would probably be annoyed with me." And [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]