BURDEN the Hand
By RANDALL GARRETT
The clock was self-correcting—so
Van Ostrand's plot was foolproof!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Infinity November 1958.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
"Aren't you boys sort of biting the hand that feeds you?" asked Nikki Varden, staring complacently down the barrel of a Lundhurst Twelve while she kept both hands high above her head.
Van Ostrand was big and fat and had sleepy eyes and an oily manner about him that nobody with half a brain could fall for. I, personally, would have picked him as the villain of a vidicast the first time he walked on the screen. He could have played the part to a T. The trouble with somebody who looks that much like the heavy is that your mind rejects the idea. You think to yourself, "I'll watch that guy because I don't trust him, but I doubt if he could really be as bad as he acts—nobody could."
Van Ostrand was. He gave a smooth, hardy chuckle and said: "You have a way with words, my dear. However, I have learned that it's perfectly possible to bite the hand that feeds one, provided it is bitten off cleanly at the wrist. Then, you see"—again that chuckle—"you can feed off the hand."
"My! What you can't do with a metaphor!" said Nikki Varden admiringly.
Van Ostrand said nothing but, "You will oblige me by turning around, my dear."