Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 65 — page 83: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION virulent voice, was rapidly be- coming the most popular face in Britain among the feminine population. Changing into a dark grey suit, he put a comb through fair curly hair before turning to Mark, who was watching him silently. “Ready, Mark?” “You go on, Val, I'll see you tomorrow morning at the hotel.” After he had gone Mark picked up the phone and dialed a number, lighting a cigarette whilst he waited for a reply. “Hello, is that Robert Hen- shaw?” “Speaking.” “Hello, Bob, Mark here.”’ He waited, smiling softly in the yellow-lighted dressing room. “I thought I told you not to phone me?” rasped the voice harshly. “It’s all right, nobody’s likely to tap this phone. I thought you might like to know that Friday is the night!” The voice softened a little, becametinged withexcitement. “You feel he can make the grade?” “Make it!’ Mark laughed. 82 “He'll make all the other vocalists sound like sick dogs on a rainy day! I’ve been in this business all my life, Bob, and you can take my word for it he’s going to be the greatest of them all. On Saturday morning we can just sit back and let the money roll in.” *‘Look,”’ said Robert Hen- shaw, “‘I’ll come backstage on Friday after the show and we can talk over a few details. Get rid of him as soon as you can. I don’t want him to be around when I arrive.” ““Okay, see-you Friday.” Mark slapped the receiver into its cradle and stood rubbing his hands together. With a final smiling glance about the room, he picked up his coat and left. Pushing his way through the small crowd of reporters, Valdesco tried to keep the pleasant smile on his face, ~ answering a few questions briefly whilst he forged steadily towards the door. It was a narrow corridor and it was packed tight. Every few sec- onds the blinding white flash of a camera would go off in his face. comiclooks.corn