at
arm, I knew I'd feel a lot more confident fast. I knelt down across the
body from him, started to lay Mother aside and then hesitated.

* * * * *

The girl gave me an encouraging look, as if to say, "I'll take care of
the old geezer." On the strength of her look I put down Mother and
started to pry open the Pilot's left hand, which was clenched in a fist
that looked a mite too big to have nothing inside it.

The girl started to edge behind Pop, but he caught the movement right
away and looked at her with a grin that was so knowing and yet so
friendly, and yet so pitying at the same time--with the pity of the old
pro for even the seasoned amateur--that in her place I think I'd have
blushed myself, as she did now ... through the streaks of the Pilot's
blood.

"You don't have to worry none about me, lady," he said, running a hand
through his white hair and incidentally touching the pommel of one of
the two knives strapped high on the back of his jacket so he could reach
one over either shoulder. "I quit murdering some years back. It got to
be too much of a strain on my nerves."

"Oh yeah?" I couldn't help saying as I pried up the Pilot's index finger
and started on the next. "Then why the stab-factory, Pop?"

"Oh you mean those," he said, glancing down at his knives. "Well, the
fact is, Ray, I carry them to impress buggers dumber than you and the
lady here. Anybody wants to think I'm still a practicing murderer I got
no objections. Matter of sentiment, too, I just hate to part with
them--they bring back important memories. And then--you won't believe
this, Ray, but I'm going to tell you just the same--guys just up and
give me their knives and I doubly hate to part with a gift."

I wasn't going to say "Oh yeah?" again or "Shut up!" either, though I
certainly wished I could turn off Pop's spigot, or thought I did. Then I
felt a painful tingling shoot down my right arm. I smiled at Pop and
said, "Any other reasons?"

"Yep," he said. "Got to shave and I might as well do it in style. A new
blade every day in the fortnight is twice as good as the old ads. You
know, it makes you keep a knife in fine shape if you shave with it. What
you got there, Ray?"

"You were wrong, Pop," I said. "He did have some metal on him that
didn't melt."

I held up for them to see the object I'd extracted from his left fist:
a bright steel cube measuring about an inch across each side, but it
felt lighter