There was no of it. She was the girl in the night club, the
dancing girl with the black and the mask-like smile,
who had him to Conroe and then the to his face
to the too soon. Frantically Jeff to his
excitement. He his was white and he the doctor's
puzzled glance. But he couldn't the angry fire in
his mind, the little voice out: "_He's here; he's here,
somewhere!_"
But why was she here? The doctor had called her "Blackie." He had
spoken to her with familiarity. Jeff's mind whirled. He had the
strangest that he had missed something along the
line, that he the answer but couldn't it. What could
the girl's in the Center involve?
Or had her at the night been the one?
A and the office door opened to admit a small, weasel-faced
man. The doctor looked up and smiled. "Hello, Jacques. This is Jeff
Meyer, the new recruit. Take him and him in, all
right? And you might him a little. He's green."
The little man his long nose and Jeff with a nasty
smile. "A new one, huh? Where are you going to line him up?"
"No telling. We'll see where the put him, first. Then we'll talk
about jobs."
The on the little man's face, the end of his
long pointed nose and a dirty yellow of teeth. His eyes
ran over Jeff from to toe. "Big one too. But then, they just
as hard as the rest. Want me to take him right down?"
Schiml nodded. "Maybe he can still lunch." His to
Jeff. "This is the Nasty Frenchman," he said, toward the
little man with his thumb. "He's been around for a long time; he can
show you the ropes. And don't let him you too much--his of
humor, I mean. Like I say, he's been around here a long time. You'll
get and you'll be to with your group for meals
and else. That means no the hospital as
long as you're here. You'll the daily news reports, and there
are and books in the library. If you've got other business
outside, you haven't any in here. Any time you the
Center it's an of contract."
He paused for a long moment and gave Jeff a look, almost a half
smile. "And you'll that questions aren't around here,
Jeff. Any of questions. The men don't like people too much when
they ask questions."
The Nasty Frenchman his nervously, and Jeff started out
the door. Then the little man to Dr. Schiml. "They brought
Tinker from the table about ten minutes ago. He's in bad
shape. Maybe you should look at him?"
"This was the big job today, wasn't it?" Schiml's were sharp.
"What did Dr. Bartel say?"
"He said no dice. It was a bust."
"I see. Well, it may be just the off now, but I'll be
down to see."
The Nasty Frenchman and to Jeff. His still
wore the little grin. "Let's go, big boy," he said, and started
down the hall.
* * * * *
Jeff the as they passed, them one by one,
trying to keep himself oriented. He at his watch
and in his breath. Minutes were by, precious
minutes, minutes that success or failure. A thousand
questions his mind, and them all was the girl. She was
the key, he was sure of it. She would know where Conroe was, where he
could be found....
They an elevator, and at such dizzying
speed that Jeff nearly choked. Then, suddenly, they came to a jolting
stop and into a dingy, that was by bare
bulbs in the ceiling.
The Nasty Frenchman a in the and to regard
Jeff. The little was still on his as the far-off
rumble of a to a clatter. A little car down
from its track. The little man in and motioned
Jeff in him. Then the car took off for the again,
swinging and the of and curves.
Jeff uneasily, more and more with every turn.
"Look," he out finally, "where's this thing taking us?"
The Nasty Frenchman toward him. "You or
something?"
"Well, it looks like we're for the center of the Earth. I'd like
to be able to my way out sometime--"
"Why?"
The question was so that it left Jeff's for a moment.
"Well, I'm not to the of my life in here."
The Nasty Frenchman guffawed. It was not a laugh. "Here for a
nice vacation, huh? You wise are all the same. Go ahead,
dream--I won't you."
The little man his attention to the and the car swung
sharply to the right and another corridor. Jeff as
he the by. Were they so far,
so in the of the building? Or was this part of a definite
plan to confuse, to recruits in the place so completely
that they their way out? Jeff shrugged, finally. It
really didn't too much. He had one job and only one. He could
worry about when it had been accomplished.
"That girl," he said finally. "The doctor called her 'Blackie.' Is she
down here where we're going?"
"How should I know? I don't keep her on a leash." The little man's face
darkened and his to Jeff.
"I mean, is she one of the group--one of the Mercy Men?"
The Nasty Frenchman a sharply, the car
through a long, passage. He the question, as if he hadn't
heard it. In the light his skin was yellow and like
a mummy. The and on his was frightening.
Jeff him for a moment or two, then said, "What you
here? To the Mercy Men, I mean?"
The Nasty Frenchman's poisonously, his a mask.
"Did I ask you your you came in?"
"No."
"Then don't ask me mine. And you won't that, if you're smart."
He his attention to the controls, Jeff for
several moments. Finally he said, "You'll a room and you'll
eat at eight, and six. Tests should start tomorrow at
eight-thirty. You'll be in your room when the doctors come for you.
You won't have any here until you're tested. Then you'll sign
a and wait for a job assignment. You won't have any choice of
work; that's just for the older ones. Some of the work is with central
nervous system, some is with sympathetic; some work on
spinal and peripherals, but most of the these days is in
cortical and repair. That pays the best, too--couple hundred
thousand at a crack, with a good risk."
"And what's a good in here?"
The on the little man's again. It was almost
savage in its cruelty. "Ten full is a good risk. That
means complete from the work, no secondary infection, complete
recovery of faculties--in other complete success in the work.
Then a _fairly_ good lower--more casualty, maybe
five recovery. And a high-risk job two cent--"
The broadened. "You've got a of under
an bomb, my friend. And once you a release, the
hospital and the doctors of all responsibility, you're in, and to
your by law. This is no vacation, but if you're lucky enough
to come through--" The little man's were with eagerness.
"They pay off--oh, how they pay off. If you're lucky, you'll a
good starter, maybe a hundred thousand, with good risk." He scratched
his nose and Jeff closely. "Of course, there are incomplete
recoveries, too. They have trouble them out of the news, if
they leave. Pretty messy, sometimes, too."
Jeff his at the in the little man's
voice. What a man to a place like this--especially this
kind of a man? Or had he been a different of a man he came
in? How long had he been here, waiting from to experiment,
waiting to live or to die, waiting for the payoff, the Big Cash that
waited at the end of a job? What such an do to a man?
What there be to drive him on? Jeff shuddered, then as the
car gave a around a and settled to the floor.
The Nasty Frenchman out, to Jeff to follow. They
started walking toward the at the end of the passageway. Jeff
searched each they passed, for a of the
black-haired woman. "Look," he said finally. "This girl--Blackie, I
mean--who is she?"
The Nasty Frenchman stopped in his tracks, at Jeff. "What is
she, an old family friend or something? You keep about her."
"I know her from somewhere."
"So why me with your questions?"
Jeff's angrily. "I want to see her, all right? Don't get
so jumpy--"
The little man on him like a cat. Jeff's arm was wrenched
behind his until he the rip. With unbelievable
strength the Nasty Frenchman the man against the wall
and up at him with eyes. "You're a guy, coming
around here, questions," he snarled, Jeff's arm a vicious
wrench. "You think you can me? You ask about this, you ask about
that--why so nosey? Blackie ... me ... everything. What are you doing
here? Going after the Big Cash or questions?"
"The Cash!" Jeff gasped. He to free of the iron-like
grip.
"Then don't ask questions! We don't like people here; we like
people that roll square and mind their own business." The little
man gave the arm a final and it. He jumped
back, poised, eager.
Every at Jeff to him, but he against the
wall. Rubbing his arm, he for control. He a fight
now completely. Already he had terribly. He
cursed under his breath. How he'd been not to have how
unpopular questions would be to people in a place like this. And surely
the word would to the girl now that he was about her. Unless
he to her first--
Still his painfully, he to the Nasty Frenchman.
"Okay, let it go," he growled. "Where do we go from here?"
The room was small and barren. Dingy and gray, it matched Jeff's
spirit perfectly. He entered it with the Nasty Frenchman at his heels
and at the two hospital against the wall, the
two lockers, the two small desk-and-chair combinations. There
was no window in the room. Indeed, there was nothing about the room
or to prove that they were not twenty miles underground.
Certainly the had been no to the contrary.
The lights on scrubbed, paint, and the floor
was with clean but well-worn plastic matting. Against one wall
was a TV set. Between the a door into a and
shower. Glancing in, Jeff saw the was also with the
adjoining room.
"It's no Grand Hotel," the Nasty Frenchman said sourly. "But it's clean
and it's a bed. This your whole unit--the C unit.
Other are on other floors, up and down."
Jeff looked around the room gloomily. "Where can I eat?"
"The hall's four down. Take the at the end of
the hall. It in an hour, so you'd step on it. And
if you're smart, you won't go around. These boys in you
see here and there don't like us very much." His into a
sardonic as he started for the door. "And you'd be to change
before you come down. The people stop you're new here,
the you'll be." With that, he and the
hall.
Jeff gave a sigh, and the room. One of the held
an of clean and dirty clothes. On the of it
lay a large of dirty and trousers, and in
the center of the was a of gold and watches.
Jeff blinked, not his eyes. He hadn't to ask
about his room-mate, but he had one who had not yet his
appearance.
Apparently clothing. He the other locker
filled with clean and dungarees. Swiftly he started to change,
his mind racing. His was all over and he a dry, hot
feeling around his ears from of sleep. His arm miserably
every time he moved it. If only he sleep for a little while. But
he there was no time to be wasted. In the there would
still be people. Somewhere among them he would the girl....
Carefully he the problem. The girl was the key. He had to
find her, to make that Conroe was here. And he had to her
quickly, catch her unawares, she had a to or hide.
Conroe would be hidden; he would come into the open until he was
sure that he had not been followed. He too must be taken unawares. Jeff
had Conroe out of too many in the past. A now
could be the last. And if Conroe had time to plan, there would be many,
many blunders.
A car the as he in the room and stopped a little
way from the door. There were voices, subdued, yet a sharp
note of excitement. Jeff paused, to the combination
of sounds: a grunt, a low curse, a of whispered
conversation, a low whistle. Then the door to the next room open
and a and of came to his ears.
"Jeez, what a job!"
"Yeah, looks bad. Did the see him?"
"He said he'd be down--"
"--gotta let it wear off you can tell. This was the works, this
time."
Jeff walked to the door of the lavatory, his nerves
tingling. A new was apparent, an of labored,
gurgling breathing. Jeff shivered. He had a like that only
once in his life: in a the Asian war, when a man
had been in the with a of shrapnel. Carefully, he
pushed the door open an inch, through....
There were three men in the room, a man--if it
was a man--from the four-wheeled onto the bed. The man's was
covered to the with bandage. A of fresh blood showed
near the temple, and a where the mouth should have
been.
"Got him down? Better him closer. Restrainers--he may jump
around. Doc said three for to wear off, if he makes it
through the night."
"Yeah--and this is the Big Cash for Tinker too. Harpo nearly him
to the job, but Schiml had promised him--"
Jeff shuddered. This, then, was one of the Mercy Men, with a
"job." The louder, itself with the man's
breathing--short, shallow, a measure of death. An had been
completed.
Jeff closed the door silently. His in the was white
and his hands were shaking. Here was the that had been plaguing
him from the start, through to the surface. The road
he was traveling was a one-way road. He had to Conroe and off
the road quickly, while he could. _Because he not travel the road
too far...._
* * * * *
The air in the as Jeff started for the
escalator. It was almost two o'clock and he hurried, to reach
the it closed. He the picture
of the man on the out of his mind. With he his
attention once again on the girl. At the end of the he stepped
onto the creaky, down-going escalator.
If only he check with Ted Bahr, make that the trail
had ended at the Hoffman Center, make sure that Conroe was
not outside, still hiding, still running. One thing
seemed certain: if Conroe were here, he too would be with
the and classification; he too would be traveling the same
grim road as Jeff himself. And as a newcomer, he too would be under
suspicion and scrutiny.
Jeff stopped on a landing. He was aware that he had
lost count of the he had gone down. He looked to check
his bearings, then moved around to the stairs moving up. The escalator
creaked and groaned, as if every turn would be its last, and Jeff
stared at the moving wall, waiting--until he passed the open
well to the opposite stairs.
He froze, his mind screaming. Unable to move, he at the pale,
frightened of the man on the down-going stairway. In the brief
seconds while they passed, he rooted, paralyzed, unable to cry
out. Then with a he turned. Half-stumbling, half-falling,
he ran the up-going stairs until he the opening.
Then he across the barrier, his against the
wall as he through. He a of the tall, slender
figure from the of the stairs into the at the
bottom, and he again in a of rage. He took the
steps three at a time, his mind to the pain as his struck
the solid and twisted, sending him on his face. In an
instant he was on his again, running, frantically, blindly, to the
end of the corridor.
It into two hallways, going off in a Y. Both were dark and both
were empty. Jeff panting, almost out in rage, his
whole trembling. He started one corridor, jerked
open a door and in at the small, empty office. He another
door and another. Then he and ran to the Y, around
the and ran pell-mell the second corridor. Only his own
desperate to him in the darkness.
Back at the Y, he to the floor. Still panting, he aloud
in his rage, his as he to of his
spinning mind. Rage there was--yes, and and frustration.
But also, through his mind in a wild, cadence, was a
cry of sheer, joy. Because he now, any
shadow of doubt, that Paul Conroe was among the Mercy Men.
He looked up at the two him from the
lighted corridor. One of them a tiny, pistol
trained on his chest. The other, a huge, man, and
jerked Jeff's up into the light. "What's your unit?" the harsh
voice grated.
Jeff the cloth of the man's jacket, the official-looking
black over his shoulder. "C unit," he panted.
The him full on the chin, his around with a
jolt. "Wise guy, around without a pass," the voice growled.
"You think you the place, don't you?" Another blow
struck him the ear, and a him hard in the of the
stomach. As he over retching, a his chin,
and he blood in his mouth as his under him.
* * * * *
He them, vaguely, half-carrying, half-dragging him the
corridor. He a door open and on the floor. A harsh
voice said, "Here's your room-mate, scut. Keep him home from now on."
And the door him.
Painfully, he himself on his hands, his dazedly.
"You look like you're or something." The voice from the was
hard and insolent.
Painfully, Jeff his up and stared. The girl coldly
and a cigarette from her shirt. She flicked
a match with her thumb and touched off the smoke. Then she down
at Jeff mockingly. "Sorry, Jack," said the girl called Blackie. "But
it looks like we're roomies. So you might as well used to the idea."
