Replicant Night by K. W. Jeter Read Free Book Online

Urben ton got all spooked about the other Kowalski replicant's getting killed on the street set . As much of a conniving little sneak as the video director was, there still might be things going on of which he hadn't been the prime motivator. Urbenton had clammed up, in true paranoid style, when Deckard had finally convinced him that a live round from a real gun had killed one of the Kowalski replicants; there hadn't been time to pump the director for more info- just who it was supposed to be, that the possibility of their pulling stuff in the orbiting studio was so blood-drainingly scary-when the sound of more shots being fired had interrupted them.
    He turned and looked back at the others in the room, the still living ones, human and replicant.
    The Leon Kowalski replicant had the same uncomprehending expression in his small eyes as his twin had gotten when the bullet had penetrated his skull and leapt out through his forehead. This one held another gun, the weapon that had just blown away Dave Holden, extending it on his beefy palm toward the other men.
    "I'm really sorry..." As big as he was, the replicant had the voice of an overgrown, frightened child, one who wasn't even sure of the nature of the crime he might have committed. "I did it just like I was told to. But ... I don't know..." He shook his animal head. "D'you want me to do it again?"
    "Don't worry about it." The taller man, calm and supercilious beside the video director's perspiring, stubby form, reached out and took the gun from the replicant's hand. "Like I said, you did just fine."
    "'Fine'?" Urbenton screeched, goggling at the other man. "What the hell are you talking about?" He flung out one arm, pointing to where Deckard stood next to the corpse. "I don't even know who you are. And you come around here and all of a sudden I've got a dead body on the set-a human body- plus a dead replicant somewhere else, and you say ' Fine '?" He started to turn toward the door. "That does it. I'm calling studio security."
    "There's no need for that. Everything's under control here." The taller man didn't look at Urbenton, but wrapped his hand around the grip of the gun and lifted it to eye level. He stretched his arm out straight. "I'll take care of it."
    Deckard could see what the other man was about to do, was already doing as he stepped away from the corpse on the video set's floor. He raised his own hand toward the gun, though it was yards away; he knew he would never reach it in time, as he pushed his way past the table with an unopened briefcase on it, the Tyrell Corporation chair that hadn't been toppled over .
    The Kowalski replicant knew as well that it was hopeless, that there'd be no point in trying to evade the bullet. The taller man squeezed his hand around the gun's grip, finger tightening on the trigger-Deckard saw the tiny motion, heard the shift of metal against metal inside the gun's workings. A tapered rush of flame broke from the circle at the dark muzzle's end; the replicant had already turned his head away in anticipatory flinching, eyes shut as if he could prevent himself from seeing that quick, ragged, and fatal light.
    A single bullet; it caught the replicant at the corner of his brow. For a moment, he looked as if he had been graced with understanding, a shocked awareness flaring deep behind his eyes, their silent gaze turned toward and engulfing Deckard. Then Kowalski fell, his massive body lifted onto tiptoe by the shot's impact, the side of his head rocked against one blood-spattered shoulder. He landed in the angle of the room's floor and farthest wall, crumpled into a package of rags that no longer resembled a human being.
    The hand at the end of Deckard's arm, that had been reaching for the gun, curled into a fist. He was close enough to the taller man now that he could read the name - MARLEY - on the ID badge pinned to his chest. Deckard planted himself, drew his fist back, and then launched it into the other's chin. The blow snapped the