39. MARTIGAN
A gentle tinkling sounded at the door to the cell.
“f**k do you want?” Marlow roared.
“Get him out of here,” Rand Bergeron said, before he was seized by a coughing fit.
“Not again!” Marlow moaned.
Marlow groaned loudly as he rolled out of his bunk and two Curienese guards escorted him out. This was getting to be a regular occurrence. Marlow had frequently said that the worst thing that ever happened to him was Martigan coming into his life. Marlow had once been peaceably lost in a world of endless, thoughtless orgiastic pleasure, and now he was back in the real world, wasting away, and constantly being disturbed.
Martigan had been visited countless times, pulled out of his cell and feted now and again, and just as often given the iron fist instead of the velvet glove
