Argosy (UK), January 1955 — page 73: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

SEVENTH VICTIM 71 And, of course, for each hunt Morger had had to act as Victim, so he had twenty kills to his credit. “TI sure hope my Victim isn’t anyone like you,” Frelaine said, half in jest. “Don’t worry about it. What number will this be? ” “The seventh.” “Lucky seven. Go to it,” Morger said. ‘‘ We’ll get you into the Tens yet.” Frelaine waved his hand and started out of the door. ““ Just don’t get careless,” warned Morger. “ All it takes is a single slip and Ill need a new partner. If you don’t mind, I like the one I’ve got now.” “ T’ll be careful,” Frelaine promised. Instead of taking a bus, Frelaine walked to his apartment. He wanted time to cool off. ‘There was no sense in acting like a kid on his first kill. As he walked, Frelaine kept his eyes strictly to the front. Staring at anyone was practically asking for a bullet, if the man happened to be serving as Victim. Some Victims shot if you just glanced at them. Nervous fellows. Frelaine prudently looked above the heads of the people he passed. Ahead of him was a huge billboard, offering J. F. O’ Donovan’s services to the public. victims! the sign proclaimed in huge red letters. WHY TAKE CHANCES? USE AN O'DONOVAN ACCREDITED SPOTTER. LET US LOCATE YOUR ASSIGNED KILLER. PAY AFTER YOU GET HIM! The sign reminded Frelaine. He would ring up Ed Morrow as soon as he reached his apartment. He crossed the street, quickening his stride. He could hardly wait to get home now, to open the envelope and discover who his Victim was. Would he be clever or stupid? Rich, like Frelaine’s fourth Victim, or poor, like the first and second? Would he have an organized spotter service, or try to do it on his own? The excitement of the chase was wonderful, coursing through his veins, quickening his heartbeat. From a block or so away, he heard gunfire. ‘Two quick shots, and then a final one. Some- body got his man, Frelaine thought. Good for him. It was a superb feeling, he told himself. He was alive again. At his one-room apartment, the first thing Frelaine did was ring Ed Morrow, his spotter. The man worked as a garage attendant between calls. “‘ Hullo, Ed? Frelaine here.” “Oh, hi, Mr. Frelaine.’’ He could see the man’s thin, grease- stained face grinning, flat-lipped, at the telephone » b ia re a a NP) CR ee Pate, z 7 i > r * f = Pe : -] a Fi? -2h a eye comicbooks.conn