I Will Fear No Evil by Robert Heinlein Read Free Book Online

in demand.”
    “Good. Almost all of the population who have been typed have the fact listed in computers somewhere, and with computers so interlinked today it is a matter of what questions to ask and how and where—and I don’t know how, but I know the firm to hire for it. We progress, my dear. I’ll get that started and off-load the details onto you, and then get other phases started and leave you to check on them while I go to South America and see this butcher Boyle. And—”
    “Mr. Salomon! Bad turf coming up.”
    Salomon thumbed his intercom. “Roger.” He added, “Damn them. Those two beauties like to go through Abandoned Areas. They hope somebody will shoot so that they will have legal excuse to shoot back. I’m sorry, my dear. With you aboard I should have given orders to stay out of A.A.s no matter what.”
    “It’s my fault,” Mrs. Branca said meekly. “I should have told you that it is almost impossible to circle near Nineteen-B without crossing a bad zone. I have to detour way around to reach Boss’s house. But we’re safe inside, are we not?”
    “Oh, yes. If we’re hit, this old tank has to be prettied up, that’s all. But I should not have to tell them. Rockford isn’t so bad; he’s just a Syndicate punk, an enforcer who took a fall. But Charlie—the one riding Shotgun—is mean. An XYZ. Committed his first murder at eleven. He—” Steel shutters slid up around them and covered the bulletproof glass. “We must be entering the A.A.”
    Inside lights came on as shutters darkened windows. Mrs. Branca said, “You make it sound as if we were in more danger from your mobiles than we are from the bad zone.”
    He shook his head. “Not at all, my dear. Oh, I concede that any rational society would have liquidated them—but since we don’t have capital punishment I make use of their flaws. Both are on probation paroled to me, and they like their jobs. Plus some other safe—” The rap-rap-rap! of an automatic weapon stitched the length of the car.
    In that closed space the din was ear-splitting. Mrs. Branca gasped and clutched at her host. A single explosion, still louder, went POUNGK! She buried her face in his shoulder, clung harder. “ Got ’im! ” a voice yelped. The lights went out.
    “They got us?” she asked, her voice muffled by the ruffles of his shirt.
    “No. no.” He patted her and put his right arm firmly around her. “Charlie got them . Or thinks he did. That last was our turret gun. You’re safe, dear.”
    “But the lights went out.”
    “Sometimes happens. The concussion. I’ll find the switch for the emergency lights.” He started to take his arms from around her.
    “Oh, no! Just hold me, please—I don’t mind the dark. Feel safer in it—if you hold me.”
    “As you wish, my dear.” He settled himself more comfortably, and closer.
    Presently he said softly, “My goodness, what a snuggly baby you are.”
    “You’re pretty snuggly yourself . . . Mr. Salomon.”
    “Can’t you say ‘Jake’? Try it.”
    “‘Jake.’ Yes, Jake. Your arms are so strong. How old are you, Jake?”
    “Seventy-one.”
    “I can’t believe it. You seem ever so much younger.”
    “Old enough to be your grandfather, little snuggle puppy. I simply look younger . . . in the dark. But one year into borrowed time according to the Bible.”
    “I won’t let you talk that way; you’re young! Let’s not talk at all, Jake. Dear Jake.”
    “Sweet Eunice.”
    Some minutes later the driver’s voice announced, “All clear, sir,” as the shutters started sliding down—and Mrs. Branca hastily disentangled herself from her host.
    She giggled nervously. “My goodness!”
    “Don’t fret. It’s one-way glass.”
    “That’s a comfort. Just the same, that light is like a dash of cold water.”
    “Um, yes. Breaks the mood. Just when I was feeling young.”
    “But you are young—Mr. Salomon.”
    “Jake.”
    “‘Jake.’ Years don’t count, Jake. Goodness me, I got skin paint