his handsome face flushed darkly with anger and the sun. 'You want me to
destroy evil wherever I find it. You old fool, don't you know that it
has a hundred heads and that for each one you cut off another hundred
grow in its place?'
'Don't you know that it's in you also, so to destroy it you have to
destroy yourself?'
'You're a coward, Curry!
The first time you burn a finger you run away and build yourself an
asbestos shelter,-'
'I don't like being called names, Haig. Put a leash on your tongue.'
Mike paused and his expression changed, softening into a grin.
'I'm sorry, Bruce. I was just trying to teach you-'
'Thank you,' scoffed Bruce, his voice still harsh; he had not been
placated by the
apology. 'You are going to teach me, thanks very much! But what are you
going to teach me, Haig? What are you qualified to teach? 'How to find
success and happiness' by Laughing. 'Haig who worked his way down to a
lieutenancy in the black army of Katanga - how's that as a title for
your lecture, or do you prefer something more technical like: 'The
applications of alcohol to spiritual research-''
'All right, Bruce. Drop it, I'll shut up,' and Bruce saw how deeply he
had wounded
Mike. He regretted it then, he would have liked to unsay it. But that's
one thing you can never do.
Beside him Mike Haig was suddenly much older and more tired looking, the
pouched wrinkles below his eyes seemed to have deepened in the last few
seconds, and a little more of the twinkle had gone from his eyes. His
short laughter had a bitter humourless ring to it.
'When you put it that way it's really quite funny.'
'I punched a little low,' admitted Bruce, and then, perhaps I should let
you shoot
Hendry. A waste of ammunition really, but seeing that you want to so
badly,' Bruce drew his pistol and offered it to Mike butt first, 'use
mine.' He grinned disarmingly at Mike and his grin was almost impossible
to resist; Mike started to laugh. It wasn't a very good joke, but
somehow it caught fire between them and suddenly they were laughing
together.
Mike Haig's battered features spread like warm butter and twenty
years dropped from his face. Bruce leaned back against the sandbags with
his mouth wide open, the pistol still in his hand and his long lean body
throbbing uncontrollably with laughter.
There was something feverish in it, as though they were trying with
laughter to gargle away the taste of blood and hatred. It was the
laughter of despair.
Below them the men in the trucks turned to watch them, puzzled at first,
and then beginning to chuckle in sympathy, not recognizing the sickness
of that sound.
Hey, boss,' called Ruffy. 'First time I ever seen you laugh like you
meant it.' And the epidemic spread, everyone was laughing, even
