tried to force himself upon Norma; she had killed him. Apparently Cahill had not been able to do more than clutch at the deep neckline of Norma's nightgown, which was slightly torn. 

He leaned back against the wall and saw things in a sort of horrid slow motion. Under any normal circumstance, no jury in the solar system would have listened to an attempt to prosecute her. Under any normal circumstance, Farradyne could bury Cahill at space and report the incident at the first landing. But Farradyne couldn't stand too much investigation. And Norma Hannon was a love-lotus addict--a 'blank,' in Cahill's words. 

"Now what?" asked Farradyne bitterly. 

"He--" Her eyes opened wide again as she relived the scene and relished the violence. 

"Have your fun," Farradyne growled. "What did you do? Let him get all the way in before you plugged him? No warning at all?" 

"I hoped it was you," she said. "I wouldn't have killed you." Her voice was calm; she might have been saying 'kiss' instead of 'kill'. "Him I did not like." 

"And you like me?" 

"You I save to hate tomorrow," she said matter-of-factly. 

"Why didn't you save him?" 

"What was he to you?" 

"He was my source." 

"Source?" Norma looked blank. Then understanding crossed her face. "Hellblossoms," she said with a sneer that twisted her face. She stepped past Cahill's body and handed the tiny automatic to Farradyne, who took it dumbly just because it was proffered. She went on into the salon and sat down. 

Farradyne wanted to hurt her, to reach through that wall of emotional scar and make her feel something besides anger. Remorse, perhaps. 

"Source," he nodded, following her. "Love lotus. I'd have given you one, Norma." 

She made a sound like a bitter laugh. "No good, Farradyne. What good is one love lotus?" 

"I don't know," he said simply. "I've never had one." 

Her laugh was shrill. Then she bawled at him like a fishwife, "What an operator you are, Farradyne! You big fumbling boob with your stolen 

 Prev. P 33/127 next