by Mike Resnick
"Kinoshita told me a couple of men found out that you lived on Goldenhue, and you had to go back there to make sure Sarah was all right."
"She wasn't all right. They were using her as bait for me, but they never planned to let her live whether I showed up or not. And the reason they were there was because they didn't have the guts to face me, so they went after someone I cared for. It wasn't the first time."
"They've gone after Sarah before?"
"I've been the Widowmaker for a long time," said Nighthawk wearily. "They've gone after everyone I ever cared for."
"That explains a lot."
"You can take care of yourself better than any man alive, maybe better than any man who's ever lived," said Nighthawk. "Intellectually I know that. But I've got a gut feeling that says if I get too close to you you're a dead man."
"I suppose telling you that you're wrong wouldn't matter," said Jeff.
"How do you argue with an instinct?"
"I don't know."
"Neither do I," said Nighthawk. "But I'm trying."
"You know, I came here with a lot of built-up resentment," said Jeff. "It's all gone now. I don't envy you."
"It could be worse."
"You meant you could be me?" suggested Jeff with a smile.
"I could be Jason Newman."
"Why do you say that?" asked Jeff curiously.
"He'll never be the original Widowmaker or Jefferson Nighthawk; that's reserved for me. And he'll never be the best; that's reserved for you. He tried so hard not to be a shadow of the Widowmaker that he changed his name and even his face. And where is he now? Tied in to a bunch of machines in a hospital tens of thousands of light years from his home world, put there by a Widowmaker."
"When he's better, I plan to go out to Giancola," said Jeff.
"And do what?"
"Apologize," said Jeff. "And ask him to forgive me."
Nighthawk stared at him silently for a moment. "Have another beer," he said at last. "My treat."
23.
Nighthawk and Jeff wandered over to Horatio's in mid-afternoon.
"Welcome back," said Minx to Nighthawk as they entered. "I hear you've been a busy Widowmaker."
"We're going to grab a table in the back," said Nighthawk. "When my friend arrives, send him over."
He and Jeff had been seated about ten minutes when Kinoshita stepped out of the airlift and looked around. Minx pointed to Nighthawk's table, and the little man walked across the room to join them.
"The money arrived," he reported, pulling up a chair.
"Good," said Nighthawk. "Did you arrange for the new routing?"
"Transfer it to the Cataluna Branch of the Bank of Spica II, from there to the Andrican Savings and Loan, then the First Planetary Bank of Far London, then route it through Binder X and Roosevelt III to Goldenhue, where it's waiting in the numbered account you had me set up this morning."
"That money's doing a lot of traveling," commented Nighthawk. "You know, back when I was a young man, I heard of more than one speculator getting rich by moving his money every eight or ten hours and drawing interest three times a day. With a million worlds in the Oligarchy, they could always find some with 25% inflation, and that meant that, compounded daily, they doubled their money every year without ever doing anything but depositing it in banks—until the economies crashed, anyway. The Oligarchy finally outlawed it; it was taking too much money away from the fundamentally sound banks."
"I thought you were sending all the bounties you earned in the District to the hospital at Giancola to pay for Jason Newman's medical bills," said Jeff.
"I've already sent them more than ten million credits," replied Nighthawk. "They could clone a dozen spleens and livers and buy him two dozen new arms with that, and still have plenty left over."
"Now that it's en route to Goldenhue, what do you plan to do with the bounty on the Wizard?" asked Jeff.
Nighthawk shrugged. "I haven't given it much thought." Suddenly he smiled. "Maybe I'll spend it all trying to create a rose that grows in that damned soil." He turned to Kinoshita. "Did you reserve the rooms?"
"Yes."
"What rooms?" asked Jeff.
"We're targets wherever we go," said Nighthawk. "But we're bigger targets in the District than in the rest of the city. I had Kinoshita get us some rooms at . . ." His voice trailed off. "Where the hell did you get them?"
"The Golden Palace," said Kinoshita. "Three suites, including the Presidential. I figured the man who's keeping the Wizard's bounty can afford it."
"Cancel two of them and keep the Presidential," said Nighthawk. "It's got to have four or five bedrooms, and we'll take turns standing guard."
"You expect someone to come after us?" asked Kinoshita.
"We broke tradition and started collecting bounties in the District," answered Nighthawk. "The residents can't be too thrilled with us right about now. Once we're ensconced in the suite, we'll decide what to do next."
"I thought we were staying here," said Jeff.
"I thought so too, and maybe we will," said Nighthawk. "But I've been out of touch with the rest of the galaxy for a few days. Let's see what's going on. There may be more interesting situations elsewhere."
"Why bother?" asked Kinoshita. "Half the men and aliens walking around the District have some kind of paper on them."
"He already knows how to kill people," said Nighthawk. "We took the three who needed taking, the only three who could provide the Widowmaker with a real challenge."
"Correction," said Jeff. "You took them."
"The Widowmaker took them," said Nighthawk. "Eventually that will accrue to your benefit." He stood up. "Ready to leave?" His two companions stood up. "I can't say I'm going to miss this joint."
"I can't say I blame you," remarked Jeff.
"Just a minute." Nighthawk walked over to Minx, leaned over and said something to her in low tones, then shoved a bill into her hand.
"What was that about?" asked Kinoshita as they took the airlift to the main floor and stepped out of it.
"Tell him, Jeff."
Jeff looked blank for a moment, then suddenly smiled. "Of course! You told her we were staying at some place in the District, and tipped her to keep her mouth shut."
"Then what was the point?" asked Kinoshita.
"Go ahead," Nighthawk said to Jeff.
"He only gave her one bill, probably a small one," replied Jeff. "She knows what kind of bounties he's earned since he got here, and now she knows that ten or twenty credits is the most she's going to get for keeping his whereabouts a secret. So she's got information to sell, and she'll probably be selling it in the next ten or fifteen minutes."
"And that means no one will come looking for us in the Golden Palace," added Nighthawk. "Or less people, anyway."
They walked out into the street.
"Ugly place," remarked Nighthawk. "I won't be sorry to see the last of it."
"What's Goldenhue like?" asked Jeff.
"A little agricultural world, nothing special," said Nighthawk. "We were thinking of moving to the Spiral Arm, but Sarah's got family on the Inner Frontier, and her son works on Roosevelt III, so . . ."
"I didn't know she had a son," said Jeff.
"I've never met him," said Nighthawk. "He was at college when I teamed up with Sarah, and as long as we send him money from time to time, he's content to keep his distance." He smiled. "I don't talk about him much with Sarah. My best guess is that he's got some kind of business scam going, and he's scared to death I'll find out and turn him in for the reward."
"Would that be before or after Sarah staves your head in for even thinking about it?" asked Kinoshita.
Nighthawk chuckled. "She's a tough lady. I suppose that's why we get along. Sooner or later, when the chips are down, every other woman I've known, and almost every man, is afraid of me. Not that I'll do them any harm, but rather that I have the ability to do it and if I choose to exercise that ability there is nothing anyone could do to prevent it
."
"I know," said Jeff. "Even the ones I risk my life for breathe a little easier when I leave."
"Doesn't that bother you?" said Kinoshita.
Nighthawk shrugged. "You get used to it."
"That's comforting," said Jeff. "I was starting to wonder if it would ever stop bothering me."
"It will," replied Nighthawk. "But there are disadvantages. No one expects you to care about the people who want to kill you. Eventually you'll discover that it's just as hard to care about the people who view you with fear or barely-disguised repugnance, who definitely want you out there on the front lines defending them but don't want you getting close. In the long run it probably makes you a better killer, but when you stop caring it makes you a poorer human being."
"That's some admission," said Kinoshita.
"It's no surprise to you," said Nighthawk. "You complained about my coldbloodedness the whole time we traveled together."
"The surprise is not that it's true," said Kinoshita, "but that you admitted it."
They were now half a block from the street that marked the dividing line between the District and the rest of Cataluna. and suddenly two small boys burst out of an alley, aiming toy guns at them.
"Down!" yelled Jeff. Nighthawk threw himself to the ground instantly. Kinoshita was a second slower, and received a laser burn on his arm.
Jeff fired a bullet in the air. The explosion startled the two boys.
"Freeze!" he snapped, pointing the gun at them.
The boys stood stock-still, terrified, and Jeff approached them cautiously. He looked briefly at the first boy's toy weapon, then took the other boy's from him.
Nighthawk made sure that Kinoshita's wound was superficial, then joined Jeff. "Who gave you this?" he asked the boy with the burner.
The boy was so frightened he couldn't answer. Jeff knelt down next to him so that he would appear less imposing.
"You didn't know the burner was real," he said. "It wasn't your fault. Nobody's mad at you." He waited until the boy calmed down a bit. "You know this man is the Widowmaker, don't you?" The boy nodded his head. "He's the one the man who gave you the pistol told you to aim at, right?"
"It was a woman," said the boy.
"I'll tell you what," said Jeff. "The Widowmaker will give you one of his very own bullets to keep if you'll tell us who the woman is."
"We never saw her before," said the other boy. "She gave us each a gun and told us to pretend to shoot the Widowmaker—that he'd think it was funny."
"What did she look like?"
The boy shrugged. "Kind of average."
"Height? Weight? Hair color?"
"Medium," said the other boy.
Nighthawk smiled grimly. "So she was average, except for the parts that were medium."
"That's right," said one of the boys earnestly.
"Do you know where she is now?" asked Jeff.
The boys both shook their heads.
"All right," said Jeff, standing up as Nighthawk handed a bullet to the boy with the burner.
"Can I have one too?" said the other boy.
Nighthawk tossed a bullet to the boy. "If you see that woman again . . ." he began.
"Yes?" said the boy.
"Tell her I've got a bullet for her too."
"You could give it to me, and I'll give it to her if I see her," suggested the boy.
"No, I don't think so," said Nighthawk. "Tell her I'll deliver it myself."
The two boys thanked him for the bullets and ran back into the alley from which they'd emerged.
"How are you holding up?" asked Jeff as he and Nighthawk returned to Kinoshita, who was on one knee, grasping his upper arm.
"I'll be okay," he said. "It hurts like hell, though."
"I seem to remember that there's a medical clinic a block or two from the Golden Palace," said Nighthawk. "We'll stop there and get you attended to."
"I can go myself."
"Did you plan to pay for it yourself?" asked Nighthawk.
"If I have to."
"Well, then, isn't it fortunate that you don't have to?" said Nighthawk. "Can you walk or do you want an aircar?"
"Of course I can walk," said Kinoshita irritably. "I think of Jason Newman on Giancola and everything he's gone through there and on Pericles, and I'd feel guilty as hell riding to the clinic in an aircar for a little flesh wound."
"Are you really coming back to find the woman who gave the burner to those kids?" asked Jeff as they crossed out of the District and into Cataluna proper.
"No," said Nighthawk. "But there's no reason not to make her look into every shadow she passes for the next couple of weeks."
"The only way she'll get your message is if one of the boys sees her again," said Jeff. "What if she holds it against them for telling you about her?"
Nighthawk's face tensed. "I never thought of that." He stopped walking. "Take Kinoshita to the clinic, and check into the Golden Palace when they're done with him."
"You're going back after her?"
"I'm going back after the boys. They're the only ones who know what she looks like."
"They could be anywhere," said Kinoshita.
"I'll find them," said Nighthawk with absolute certainty. He turned and headed back into the District.
An hour passed. Kinoshita had the burn treated and painted with a pain deadener. Next they went to the Golden Palace and claimed their suite. Two more hours passed, and Jeff checked on the resting Kinoshita, then suggested that they go up to the elegant rooftop restaurant for dinner. Neither of them mentioned Nighthawk in the course of their dinner; both thought of very little else.
After they'd finished eating, Kinoshita announced that he was thirsty. The roof had a well-stocked bar and wine cellar, but Kinoshita decided that he felt more comfortable in the lobby bar. He never mentioned that it afforded an unobstructed view of the hotel's entrance, but he never had to. Jeff joined him, and they passed the time, each nursing a single drink, until the bar closed.
They moved to the lobby. Finally Kinoshita's various medications for his wound and his pain made him too drowsy to remain, and he reluctantly went up to the suite. Jeff remained where he was, seated in a chair covered with the blue-and-gold spotted pelt of some alien animal, his gaze glued on the front door.
Then, just as the sun was rising, Nighthawk entered the Golden Palace. Jeff stood up and approached him.
"You found her?"
"I found her."
Jeff didn't bother to ask if the woman was dead. The answer was obvious.
"If you're getting hungry, they opened for breakfast about twenty minutes ago."
"I don't want anything to eat," said Nighthawk. "I could do with some coffee, though."
They entered the informal lobby restaurant and sat down at a table, the only two customers in the establishment.
"You were right, Jeff," said Nighthawk after they'd punched in their orders.
"About what?"
"She'd have killed them. I should have thought of that before I told them what to say." He grimaced. "Like I said, you're not the only one who makes mistakes and has a lot to learn."
"We'll learn it," said Jeff. "We're two sides of the same coin. I'll learn from you, you'll learn from me."
"I wonder if Jason Newman isn't the best off of the three of us," said Nighthawk with a wry smile. "Most of my experience, most of your physical skills."
"Or you could say that he's the worst off, because he's got less experience than you and less skills than me," replied Jeff.
"Well, whichever way you look at it, you're here and I'm here and that poor son of a bitch is in a hospital bed, tied in to a dozen machines."
But he wasn't.
24.
They had just finished their breakfast and were about to go up to the Presidential suite and finally get some sleep when Kinoshita rushed into the restaurant in an agitated state.
"What's the problem?" asked Nighthawk.
"I've got to leave New Barcelona," said Kin
oshita.
"When?"
"This morning. Now."
"You want to calm down and tell us what this is about?"
Kinoshita sat down, and Nighthawk shoved his untouched coffee in front of the smaller man. Kinoshita picked up the cup, took a sip, then put it back down.
"I just got a subspace message on my private channel," said Kinoshita. "Only four people in the galaxy know my code. You're two of them."
"I assume Jason Newman is the third?" said Jeff.
Kinoshita nodded. "And Cassandra Hill is the fourth."
"Cassandra Hill," repeated Jeff. "Isn't that the woman he's living with—the one he rescued from her father?"
"He didn't rescue her," Kinoshita corrected him. "She was actually leading a revolution. Jason was hired to kill her, and when he took a look at both sides, he chose to go to war against his employer—her father—instead."
"Okay, so she contacted you," said Nighthawk. Kinoshita looked questioningly at him. "It couldn't have been Jason. He's still tied in to all those machines. And it sure as hell wasn't Jeff or me."
"It was Cassandra," confirmed Kinoshita. "She said I was the only person she could turn to, the only person other Jason ever worked with and trusted." He nervously lit a smokeless cigarette. "I can't tell you how many times he saved my life. I've got to go; I don't have any choice."
"What is it?" asked Nighthawk. "Has she got wind of some threat against him at the hospital?"
"He's not in the hospital," said Kinoshita. "They gave him his new organs two days ago. He checked himself out this morning."
"Remarkable man," said Nighthawk. "I'd have bet he couldn't stand up without help for another ten days." He paused. "So he checked himself out. What's the problem? Does she need help getting him home?"
An ironic smile crossed Kinoshita's face. "He's a Widowmaker. What do you think?"
Nighthawk considered the question for a moment. "Oh, shit!" he said at last.
"He's gone out after someone," said Jeff. "But why? Why not just ask us?"
"Would you ask for help?" replied Kinoshita.
"No," admitted Jeff. "No, I wouldn't."
"You want to give us the whole story?" said Nighthawk.
