Free Act of Love by Joe R. Lansdale Page B

of cutting out paper. Maybe the typewriter will give us a lead."
    "I bet not," Hanson said sourly.
    "What does it say?" Evans said, a bit surprised at his loss of self-control, a trait with which he prided himself.
    Hanson read it out loud, softly.
     
    This line sung to the tune of "Fun, Fun, Fun," by The Beach Boys. "Gonna hack, hack, hack 'til the cops take my bayonet away." And I may have fun indefinitely at the rates those fools work. I sent this note to you, Barlowe, because I kind of like your reporting. Good, sensational stuff you write. Tell the cops this: I'm gonna hack and rip all I can. I'm gonna cut every woman I can find from gut to gill. They're gonna suffer. Think about that. Think about it real hard. It could be your sister, your lover, your wife, or even your mother. And it'll be me, old Houston Hacker, leaning over them with my sharp blade and rising passion. And let me tell you, I am passionate. I love my work and I want Blood!
    THE HACKER
     
    When Hanson finished Barlowe said, "Christ!"
    Hanson folded the note, returned it to the envelope. He gave the envelope to Clark, removed his gloves and stuffed them in his coat pocket. He said to Barlowe:
    "I hold you half responsible for this."
    Barlowe frowned. "What in the fuck are you talking about?"
    "The sensationalist crap you write. Just like it said in the goddamned note. He likes it. That's what drives him on, keeps him killing."
    "Preposterousl" Evans said.
    Hanson ignored him, continued talking to Barlowe. "An ego, Barlowe, a goddamned, warped ego is what keeps him going. And you're helping the sick bastard satisfy it."
    "Easy, Gorilla," Clark said.
    "I just print the facts," Barlowe said. "What I write doesn't make him kill."
    "Sure," Hanson snapped. "Just the facts."
    Clark took hold of Hanson's arm. He could feel the muscles knotting through Hanson's jacket. Any minute he expected Hanson to lunge at the reporter.
    "Come on," Clark said gently. "Enough."
    Barlowe's grey eyes were churning with anger. "You can't talk to me like that."
    "I just did," Hanson said.
    Nervously, Barlowe pushed his long blond hair out of his eyes. His knees were quivering. Clark wasn't sure if it was from fear or anger.
    "You're doing your job, I'm doing mine," Barlowe said.
    "Yeah," Hanson growled.
    "Look," Evans said. "You get your ass out of here . . . or . . ."
    "Or what?" Hanson said giving Evans a sour look. "You'll call the police? Is that it?"
    "No. Guess not," Evans said. "The police are a bunch of hoodlums."
    "Uh huh. And you folks are a bunch of swell guys," Hanson said.
    "Take it easy," Clark said again. He still held Hanson's arm.
    Hanson pulled his arm free, snarled, "Shut up, Joe." Then to Evans and Barlowe, "You folks just print the facts, huh. Sit in your offices and lay the news on the line. Well, we're the ones that have to deal with the nuts. We have to take the abuse . . . and you give the public blood. You people are sicker even than the goddamned Hacker."
    Clark grabbed Hanson's arm again, half tugged him to the door. Hanson protested at first, but after a moment relented. Clark opened the door and pulled Hanson out of the office and into the sound of a dozen typewriters. He closed the door so Evans and Barlowe couldn't hear.
    "Are you nuts?" Clark said flatly.
    "Maybe," Hanson said.
    "I don't doubt it none. Listen to me, man. We don't need the press against us. Got me?"
    Hanson didn't say anything.
    "You're the one that taught me to keep my cool, to only get tough as a bluff or when you really had to. Neither rule applies here. You're just plain being a horse's ass."       '
    Hanson took in a deep breath. "Yeah, I know . . . It's getting to me, Joe."
    "Why now? I mean do you think I like to see those hacked bodies?"
    "Of course not."
    "You're the senior officer. You're my example. Now pull yourself together."
    Hanson ran his hand over his forehead and into his hair.
    "Well?" Clark said.
    "I'm together."
    "You're sure?"
    “I’m sure.”
    Clark