Part 39 (2/2)

”Going to see Dorfman, Jack?”

The gunslinger said nothing.

”If you think you can talk him out of sub-leasing, I can tell you it's a waste of time,” the fat man said, then blinked as his colleague took a quick step backward. The doors of the little box closed and suddenly they were falling.

He clawed at Mort's mind, ignoring the screams, and found this was all right. The fall was controlled.

”If I spoke out of turn, I'm sorry,” the fat man said. The gunslinger thought: This one is afraid, too. This one is afraid, too. ”You've handled the jerk better than anyone else in the firm, that's what I think.” ”You've handled the jerk better than anyone else in the firm, that's what I think.”

The gunslinger said nothing. He waited only to be out of this falling coffin.

”I say so, too,” the fat man continued eagerly. ”Why, just yesterday I was at lunch with-”

Jack Mort's head turned, and behind Jack Mort's gold-rimmed gla.s.ses, eyes that seemed a somehow different shade of blue than Jack's eyes had ever been before stared at the fat man. ”Shut up,” the gunslinger said tonelessly.

Color fell from the fat man's face and he took two quick steps backward. His flabby b.u.t.tocks smacked the fake wood panels at the back of the little moving coffin, which suddenly stopped. The doors opened and the gunslinger, wearing Jack Mort's body like a tight-fitting set of clothes, stepped out with no look back. The fat man held his finger on the DOOR OPEN DOOR OPEN b.u.t.ton of the elevator and waited inside until Mort was out of sight. b.u.t.ton of the elevator and waited inside until Mort was out of sight. Always did have a screw loose, Always did have a screw loose, the fat man thought, the fat man thought, but this could be serious. This could be a breakdown. but this could be serious. This could be a breakdown.

The fat man found that the idea of Jack Mort tucked safely away in a sanitarium somewhere was very comforting.

The gunslinger wouldn't have been surprised.

3.

Somewhere between the echoing room which his Mortcypedia identified as a lobby, lobby, to wit, a place of entry and exit from the offices which filled this sky-tower, and the bright suns.h.i.+ne of street (his Mortcypedia identified this street as both to wit, a place of entry and exit from the offices which filled this sky-tower, and the bright suns.h.i.+ne of street (his Mortcypedia identified this street as both 6th Avenue 6th Avenue and and Avenue of the Americas Avenue of the Americas), the screaming of Roland's host stopped. Mort had not died of fright; the gunslinger felt with a deep instinct which was the same as knowing that if Mort died, their kas kas would be expelled forever, into that void of possibility which lay beyond all physical worlds. Not dead-fainted. Fainted at the overload of terror and strangeness, as Roland himself had done upon entering the man's mind and discovering its secrets and the crossing of destinies too great to be coincidence. would be expelled forever, into that void of possibility which lay beyond all physical worlds. Not dead-fainted. Fainted at the overload of terror and strangeness, as Roland himself had done upon entering the man's mind and discovering its secrets and the crossing of destinies too great to be coincidence.

He was glad Mort had fainted. As long as the man's unconsciousness hadn't affected Roland's access to the man's knowledge and memories-and it hadn't-he was glad to have him out of the way.

The yellow cars were public conveyences called Tack-Sees Tack-Sees or or Cabs Cabs or or Hax. Hax. The tribes which drove them, the Mortcypedia told him, were two: The tribes which drove them, the Mortcypedia told him, were two: Spix Spix and and Mockies. Mockies. To make one stop, you held your hand up like a pupil in a cla.s.sroom. To make one stop, you held your hand up like a pupil in a cla.s.sroom.

Roland did this, and after several Tack-Sees Tack-Sees which were obviously empty save for their drivers had gone by him, he saw that these had signs which read which were obviously empty save for their drivers had gone by him, he saw that these had signs which read Off-Duty. Off-Duty. Since these were Great Letters, the gunslinger didn't need Mort's help. He waited, then put his hand up again. This time the Since these were Great Letters, the gunslinger didn't need Mort's help. He waited, then put his hand up again. This time the Tack-See Tack-See pulled over. The gunslinger got into the back seat. He smelled old smoke, old sweat, old perfume. It smelled like a coach in his own world. pulled over. The gunslinger got into the back seat. He smelled old smoke, old sweat, old perfume. It smelled like a coach in his own world.

”Where to, my friend?” the driver asked-Roland had no idea if he was of the Spix Spix or or Mockies Mockies tribe, and had no intention of asking. It might be impolite in this world. tribe, and had no intention of asking. It might be impolite in this world.

”I'm not sure,” Roland said.

”This ain't no encounter group, my friend. Time is money.”

Tell him to put his flag down, the Mortcypedia told him. the Mortcypedia told him.

”Put your flag down,” Roland said.

”That ain't rolling nothing but time,” the driver replied.

Tell him you'll tip him five bux, the Mortcypedia advised. the Mortcypedia advised.

”I'll tip you five bucks,” Roland said.

”Let's see it,” the cabbie replied. ”Money talks, bulls.h.i.+t walks.”

Ask him if he wants his money or if he wants to go f.u.c.k himself, the Mortcypedia advised instantly. the Mortcypedia advised instantly.

”Do you want the money, or do you want to go f.u.c.k yourself?” Roland asked in a cold, dead voice.

The cabbie's eyes glanced apprehensively into the rearview mirror for just a moment, and he said no more.

Roland consulted Jack Mort's acc.u.mulated store of knowledge more fully this time. The cabbie glanced up again, quickly, during the fifteen seconds his fare spent simply sitting there with his head slightly lowered and his left hand spread across his brow, as if he had an Excedrin Headache. The cabbie had decided to tell the guy to get out or he'd yell for a cop when the fare looked up and said mildly, ”I'd like you to take me to Seventh Avenue and Forty-Ninth street. For this trip I will pay you ten dollars over the fare on your taxi meter, no matter what your tribe.”

A weirdo, the driver (a WASP from Vermont trying to break into s...o...b..z) thought, the driver (a WASP from Vermont trying to break into s...o...b..z) thought, but maybe a but maybe a rich rich weirdo. weirdo. He dropped the cab into gear. ”We're there, buddy,” he said, and pulling into traffic he added mentally, He dropped the cab into gear. ”We're there, buddy,” he said, and pulling into traffic he added mentally, And the sooner the better. And the sooner the better.

4.

Improvise. That was the word. That was the word.

The gunslinger saw the blue-and-white parked down the block when he got out, and read Police Police as as Posse Posse without checking Mort's store of knowledge. Two gunslingers inside, drinking something-coffee, maybe-from white paper gla.s.ses. Gunslingers, yes-but they looked fat and lax. without checking Mort's store of knowledge. Two gunslingers inside, drinking something-coffee, maybe-from white paper gla.s.ses. Gunslingers, yes-but they looked fat and lax.

He reached into Jack Mort's wallet (except it was much too small to be a real real wallet; a wallet; a real real wallet was almost as big as a purse and could carry all of a man's things, if he wasn't travelling too heavy) and gave the driver a bill with the number 20 on it. The cabbie drove away fast. It was easily the biggest tip he'd make that day, but the guy was so freaky he felt he had earned every cent of it. wallet was almost as big as a purse and could carry all of a man's things, if he wasn't travelling too heavy) and gave the driver a bill with the number 20 on it. The cabbie drove away fast. It was easily the biggest tip he'd make that day, but the guy was so freaky he felt he had earned every cent of it.

The gunslinger looked at the sign over the shop.

CLEMENTS GUNS AND SPORTING GOODS, it said. AMMO AMMO, FIs.h.i.+NG TACKLE FIs.h.i.+NG TACKLE, OFFICIAL FACSIMILES OFFICIAL FACSIMILES.

He didn't understand all of the words, but one look in the window was all it took for him to see Mort had brought him to the right place. There were wristbands on display, badges of rank... and guns. Rifles, mostly, but pistols as well. They were chained, but that didn't matter.

He would know what he needed when-if-he saw it.

Roland consulted Jack Mort's mind-a mind exactly sly enough to suit his purposes-for more than a minute.

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