The Day of the Gecko by Robert G. Barrett Page B

colonel who’d cracked up and was getting everyone in the shit. The bloke always used to end his letters “I remain as always”. So the Gecko set the thing to go off as soon as he hit those keys in that order. The poor prick’s gone to finish this letter and bingo! He got blown into sushi. It was beautiful.’
    â€˜Actually, I packed just a bit too much in,’ said Garrick. ‘And there was a little collateral damage that time.’
    â€˜Only that young Vietnamese poof he was humping.’ Eddie rocked around on the lounge again. ‘At least they died together as lovers.’
    â€˜Yeah. They certainly remained as always,’ smiled The Gecko.
    Eddie was still bouncing around on the lounge. ‘But what about the letter bomb.’
    â€˜Letter bomb?’ echoed Les.
    â€˜Yeah. We were going to send this Yank general a letter bomb. But The Gecko says, fuck sending him a letter bomb, we’ll send him a postcard bomb.’
    â€˜A postcard bomb?’ Norton screwed his face up. ‘That’s impossible. Unless you put it in an envelope.And people hardly ever put postcards in envelopes. That’s the idea of them,’ he shrugged.
    â€˜Exactly, Les,’ said Eddie. ‘Tell him what you did, Garrick.’
    The Gecko smiled and licked his lips. ‘I got his fingerprints and his DNA and impregnated them onto this thin sheet of liquid crystal inside the postcard and the photo on the front. I rigged it so that when his and only his fingerprints made contact with the front of the postcard it set off a reaction and whammo! Not enough to kill him, but enough to blow his fingers off and blind him in one eye. And enough to get the prick out of the war before he got any more poor people killed for nothing.’
    Norton shook his head again. This time he was impressed. Impressed not only at The Gecko’s expertise in his field, but at meeting a full-on assassin. A soldier of fortune. Les always knew Eddie was a killer and Les had killed under different circumstances. But Major Garrick Lewis was something again. Killing didn’t seem to worry him in the least. He found it a challenge, then sort of analysed it and half-joked about it. And when he was out to get you, you literally wouldn’t know what hit you, till it hit you. As well as being impressed, Norton thought he might ease up on the jokes too. If I give this bloke too much cheek he’s likely to set a bomb in my brasco paper. One wipe and zappo! Kiss your arse goodbye.
    â€˜Well, you certainly sound as if you know what you’re doing, Garrick,’ said Les.
    The Gecko sipped his coffee. ‘Yeah, I got half an idea what’s going on.’ He turned to Eddie. ‘Now about that . . . what I wanted to discuss with you.’
    â€˜Yeah. Well . . . umh.’
    Although they weren’t looking at him when they spoke, Les knew pretty much what and who they were talking about and quickly got the hint. ‘Listen, I imagine you two villains have got a million things you want to talk about, so go for your life. I was going to tape some of Susie’s CDs and I can do it with the headphones on.’ Before Eddie and Garrick knew what was going on, Norton had tom the cover off another cassette, had Susie’s headphones round his neck and explained exactly what he was about to do. ‘I’m not missing out on a chance to tape the best of these CDs,’ he concluded, ‘bombs or no bombs.’
    â€˜Fair enough, Les,’ said Eddie. ‘Good idea.’ He ran his eyes over the table full of CDs. ‘Christ! Hasn’t she got some.’
    Les winked at The Gecko, who smiled back, then picked out five CDs and filled the stacker. The two men on the lounge got into talking about whatever, and Les started flicking through the James Harman Band’s ‘Do Not Disturb’. Oh yes, Norton smiled to himself. ‘I’m Gone’ and ‘Icepick’s