Argosy (UK), January 1955 — page 79: what you’re looking at

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

SEVENTH VICTIM 77 “Hold on, sir.” Frelaine tapped on the door while the clerk looked up the information. “ Yes, sir. We have her personal confirmation. Is there anything wrong, sir? ” “No,” Frelaine said. ‘“ Just wanted to check.” After all, it was no one’s business if the girl didn’t want to defend herself. He was still entitled to kill her. It was his turn. He postponed it for that day, however, and went to a cinema. After dinner, he returned to his room and read the ECB pam- _phlet. Then he lay on his bed and glared at the ceiling. All he had to do was pump a bullet into her. Just ride by in a taxi and kill her. She was being a very bad sport about it, he decided resentfully, and went to sleep. The next afternoon, Frelaine walked by the café again. The girl was back, sitting at the same table. Frelaine hailed a taxi. “ Drive around the block very slowly,” he told the driver. “ Sure,” the driver said, grinning with sardonic wisdom. From the taxi, Frelaine watched for spotters. As far as he could tell, the girl had none. Both her hands were in sight upon the table. An easy, stationary target. __ Frelaine touched the button of his double-breasted jacket. A fold flew open and the gun was in his hand. He broke it open and checked the cartridges, then closed it with a snap. “Slowly, now,” he told the driver. The taxi crawled by the café. Frelaine took careful aim, centring the girl in his sights. His finger tightened on the trigger. ‘Damn it!” he said. A waiter had passed by the girl. He didn’t want to chance winging someone else. ‘‘ Around the block again,” he told the driver. The man gave him another grin and hunched down in his seat. Frelaine wondered if the driver would feel so happy if he knew that Frelaine was gunning for a woman. This time there was no waiter around. The girl was lighting a cigarette, her mournful face intent on her lighter. Frelaine centred her in his sights, squarely above the eyes, and held his breath. Then he shook his head and put the gun back in his pocket. The idiotic girl was robbing him of the full benefit of his emotional catharsis. He paid off the driver and started to walk. It’s too easy, he told himself. He was used to a real chase. Most of the other six kills had been quite difficult. ‘The Victims had tried every dodge. One had hired at least a dozen spotters. But Frelaine comicloooks.comn