32
"Kalinkos thinks we should kill you," Alex Trifford said.
Her two weeks were over. They had put her through a long, painful
farewell orgy before letting her go. Then they had given her back her clothes,
and now Trifford was driving her home.
"He's afraid you'll spill the beans, as he puts it," Trifford went on.
"But I don't think you will. You know what would happen to you if you spilled
even a single bean, don't you, Joyce?"
"Yes," Joyce said.
"You'll die," Trifford said. "Slowly. And most unpleasantly. You'll be
begging to die long before it actually happens. You believe that, don't you,
Joyce?"
"Yes."
"So you're not going to say anything to anybody. Ever. Isn't that right?
"Yes," Joyce said. "I mean, no. I won't."
"That's good," Trifford said. "I really don't want to see you killed,
Joyce. Because even though the Council may be through with you, I am not."
Joyce stared at him, her body frozen, color draining from her face.
"What--what do you mean? I--I thought it was over."
"That part of it is. You're free now. But I can't let a girl like you
just slip through my fingers. You can be very useful to me--just from time to
time. It won't be so bad, as long as you cooperate."
"Useful?"
"An attractive woman is always useful. There will be circumstances where
I'll ask you to use your... talents, to further my interests. For instance,
there's a man right in your own backyard--on the JOURNAL. Do you know Dexter
Burns?"
"He's--he's the business editor."
"Yes. He and I are negotiating a deal. And he likes you. I suggested he
might find you... amenable. He'll probably approach you upon your return. I
expect you not to let me down. And there will be other such situations, from
time to time."
Tears stood in the girl's eyes. "And I suppose I have no choice?"
"Of course you have," Trifford said gently. "There's always that pretty
little machine with the wires..."
Joyce was sick.
