Jeff out and took the from the girl's hand. "Put them
away, Blackie," he said softly, "You don't have to prove anything. I
know--"
"Game," she harshly, her head.
"Look. Think a minute. Back there, do you know what in that
room?"
Her his and were wide with fear. "Game," she whispered, her
hands trembling. "You've got to play me!"
He shrugged, his as he her face. He took the dice
and rolled them out on the table. A three, a four and a five fell; he
saw her across the table, taking in the sequence. Then her
hand out, the dice, gave them a throw. The hostility
in her mind out at him, the terrible that he
already felt. He the hostility, at the dice, his hands
gripping the of the table. And the and settled down: a
three, a four and a five....
The girl's widened, at him, then at the dice.
Slowly she out, took the with the five showing, sent it
bouncing across the table. It and bounced--and settled once
again with the five exposed.
Jeff the blast of out from the girl's eyes.
The room to with the he felt. She took the dice
with hands, them out hard and her as
they fell. The three and four settled out immediately. Jeff watched
the third cube, on one corner, ... spinning.... He
felt his tense, his mind screaming, as
he at the little cube. It was as though an iron his
brain in its and was slowly, slowly squeezing. And the little cube
continued, ridiculously, to and spin, until it suddenly
flipped over onto its and still with the five exposed.
Blackie gave a scream, her white. "Then it was you."
She choked, at him as if he were a ghost. "You were doing it
deliberately in there, off the odds, around,
turning the against me."
Jeff his violently. "No, no, not me--us--both of us. We were
fighting each other, without it--"
Her hand up to her mouth, off the as she at
him. Jeff at the dice, his whole trembling, of
sweat his forehead. And as he watched, the hopped
about on the table, like jumping beans, over and over, jerkily,
spinning on their in a horrible, little dance. Jeff
shook his head, his wide with as he the dice.
"You it all along," the girl choked. "You came in there just to
torment me, to me up--"
"No, no." Jeff wide on her. "I didn't know it, until I
picked up the in that room. Something me to do it. I didn't
know what I was doing until all of a the were doing what I
wanted them to do--" He off, panting. "I it, I never
dreamed it." His the girl's, pleading. "I didn't understand
it; I couldn't help it. I just that something was going on.
And then I that somebody was me. There was a in
it. I it. I somebody was with the dice. Then when I
got near you, I it was you."
The girl's was working, up in her eyes. "I had to--I
had to win with them."
"Then you you were doing it!" Jeff at her. "And when
both of us started tampering, each other, the probabilities
governing the wild, wild."
The girl was sobbing, her in her hands. "I always control
it. It always worked. It was the only thing I do that came out
right. Everything else has always gone wrong." She like a baby,
her as she out great, sobs.
Jeff forward, almost cruelly, his at her. "When did
you out you ... make the way you wanted them to?"
The girl her helplessly. "I didn't know it. I didn't have
any idea, until I came here. It was the only thing I win at.
Everything else I at. All my life I've been losing."
"What have you been losing?"
"Everything, everything--everything I touch black, goes sour,
somehow."
"But what, _what_?" Jeff toward the girl, his voice hoarse. "Why
did you come here? How did you here?"
The girl's out again, her in anguish. "I
don't know, I don't know. Oh, I take it, up to a limit, but then
I couldn't it any more. Everything I wrong; everyone
that was near me too. Even the wouldn't work with me
around."
"What rackets?"
Her voice was weak and cracking. "Any of the rackets. I've been in
a dozen, two dozen, since the war. Dad was killed in the first
bombing of the Fourth War, when I was just a kid--twelve, thirteen,
I can't now. He died trying to us out of the city and
through to the Defense area north of the Trenton section. Radiation
burns got him, maybe pneumonia, I don't know. But it got Dad and
Mom later."
She up and her with her sleeve. "We did
get out of the area. We were killing dogs and cats for food
for a while. Then when did out, we ran into
the inflation, the burned-out crops, the whole rat-race. The dirty
breaks were in hard then. First we were guerrillas, then we were
bushwhackers. Then we came into the city again and started down
the rich ones that came from the where they hid."
"But you came in here," Jeff grated. "Why here, if you were doing so
well in rackets?"
"I wasn't. Can't you understand? The luck--it was wrong, worse
and all the time. And then I got on dope. Narcotics
control was all to pieces the war; was all over the
place. But they I had this hard-luck jinx. They me on it,
until I was bad."
She shrugged, her a study in hopelessness. "They hauled
me in here. Schiml me his bill of goods. What I lose? I was
so tired, I didn't care. I didn't if they my loose,
or what they did to me. All I wanted was to eat and off the dope
and cash so I try for something decent, where hard
luck couldn't touch me. And I didn't if I got out."
"But with the you out."
"Oh, yes, with the dice--" The girl's for a moment. "I
found out I make them up and talk for me. I played it cozy,
didn't let catch on. But they always for me, until
tonight--"
Jeff nodded, his white. "Until tonight, when you out you
were for control. Because tonight I out they'd talk for
me too. And you couldn't me with them."
Her voice was weak. "I--I couldn't them. They the way you
called them."
"It isn't possible, you know," Jeff said softly. "Every time they've
tried to prove it was, they've some in the study of
it, something somewhere. Nobody's proved a thing about
psychokinesis."
The girl mirthlessly. "They've been trying to prove it here
since the year one. Every now and again they on it. They've
just somebody that's got them and they'll be starting
the whole over again."
Jeff over, his blazing. "Yes, yes, who's that person?"
"I don't know. I just it. A new recruit, I guess."
"A named Conroe?"
Her at the in his voice. "I--I don't know, I
don't know. I've only heard. I don't know if there _is_ such a
person."
"Where can I out?"
Again the was in her eyes. "I--I don't know."
Jeff's voice was tense, his on the girl's in desperate
eagerness. "Look, you've got to help me. I know he's here. I must find
him. I saw him this afternoon. Remember when the me in
here? I saw him on the stairs. I him and him, but he's
here. He's hiding, away from me. I've got to him, somehow.
Please, Blackie, you can help me."
Her were wide on his face. "What do you want with him? Why are you
after him? I don't want to mixed up in anything--"
"No, no, it won't mix you up. Look, I want to kill him. Short and
sweet, nothing more--just kill him. I want to send one into his
brain, watch his out, watch his open. That's
all I want, just one bullet--"
Jeff's voice was low, the from his throat, and the
hatred in his was as it over the girl's face. "He
haunts me, for years he's me." Jeff's voice dropped, the words
breaking the of the room in a hoarse, terrible cadence. "He
killed my father. This Conroe--he my father like an animal,
shot him in cold blood. It was horrible, ruthless. Conroe was the
assassin. He killed my father without a of in his mind.
And I loved my father, I loved him with all the love I had." He stared
at the girl. "I'll kill the man that killed my father if I have to die
myself in the killing."
"And that man is here?"
"That man is here. I've him for years. This was his last resort,
his final for escape. He had else to turn.
I've got the up so that he doesn't to leave. Now
I've got to him in here. I've got to him and kill him,
before I'm caught, I'm and classified. I've got to move
fast and I need help. I need help so much."
The girl toward him, her dark as she at him. "The
dice," she said softly. "I've been playing it cozy. I still could--if
you'll let me."
His widened. "Anything you say," he said. "We'll play it cozy
together. But I've got to have plans of the place, on
how to avoid the guards. I've got to know where their records are kept,
their and and plans."
"Then it's a deal?"
His hers, and for an he saw something the
mask she wore, something of the that there, something of
a little child who against to a in
the world. Then the was up, and her were blank and
revealed nothing.
Jeff out his hand, touched her and her
fingers. "It's a deal," he said.
* * * * *
The the was a nightmare. Jeff's mind was still
reeling from the of the dice, the sudden,
unbelievable that he and Blackie had been and
fiercely each other for control, with a that had
somehow the very of in the room where they
had been. How he have had a part in something like this? He had
never had to he might such a power, yet here was
evidence he not disregard. And how it fit into the question
of Paul Conroe, and the to the Mercy Men who had
just been tested?
A Jeff, suddenly. It came with such impact that
he stopped cold in his tracks. It was so simple, so impossible, yet
no more than the he had already with his own
eyes. Because the record of that Conroe carried,
the with which Conroe had managed to avoid
capture, time after time, too much to accept as coincidence. And
if Conroe were extra-sensory powers, he could
continue to from after trap--_unless Jeff oppose those
powers with powers of his own_.
Jeff in his teeth. How he tell? He had no that
Conroe any extra-sensory power whatsoever, and surely there was
little to that he had any more than most powers.
There were so many, many possibilities, and so little evidence
to go on.
And if Conroe had such powers, why had he been so to meet Jeff
on the stairs? Why the look of and that had streaked
across his face? Jeff at his watch, saw the minute hand move
to eleven-thirty. He would have to hurry, for the would be down
the in a moments. And these of his lead
to nowhere. Conroe had been to see Jeff. It must have been a
horrible for him to that the Hunter had him,
even into this death trap, to know that the Hunter would have the
outside so well that he, the Hunted, out. Now
Conroe would be to against being and to
work as a Mercy Man. Yes, it must have been a for Conroe,
driving one last, of into his already mind.
And what would he have to do?
A thousand ideas Jeff's mind. He was waiting for testing.
Perhaps Conroe, somehow, had been already? Could Jeff succeed
in Schiml, if the the dark
corridors were true? There was no sure way of telling. All Jeff could
do was to search the file rooms Blackie had him to.
He stopped at the entrance to the escalator, over the floor
plan Blackie had sketched for him. He the escalator, oriented
himself on the plan. The rooms were two below. If he
could them without being stopped.... He moved onto the
down shaft, his moving for a of a gray-garbed
prowler.
At the of the he stopped short. Three men in white
were pushing a along the corridor. Jeff at the
twitching under the blankets. Then he looked away hurriedly. One
of the men and at him as he off
the stairs. The man still the from his
neck, and his was in the green-knit cap.
The doctor a thumb over his and pointed the
corridor. "You to the pump?"
Jeff rapidly. "That's right," he croaked. "Did--did Jerry come
with the yet?"
"Nobody came in yet. We just finished. Been in there since three this
afternoon, and the pump right in the middle.
Had to the by hand, and if you think _that's_ not a
job--" The doctor from his forehead. "Better it fixed
tonight. We've got another one going in at eight in the and
we've got to have the pump."
Jeff nodded, and started the hall, his madly
against his ribs. He the open door to one of the operating
rooms. Slipping into the small dressing-room annex, he snatched
one of the and from the wall.
If they were still this late, it was a heaven-sent chance.
No would him if he were the white of a doctor or
the green of a surgeon. He into the gowning, it
quickly his back, and the cap over his head. Finally he
found a mask, it up under his ears as he had it by
the doctors in the corridors.
In a moment he was on the escalator, to the next floor.
At the of the stairs, he started the Blackie
had indicated, at each door as he passed. The two had
lights under them, that these were operating
rooms still in use. Finally he stopped a large, door, with
a painted on the panel: COMPUTOR TECHNICIANS
ONLY. He the door, it locked. Quickly he up
and the corridor, a hard and it through the
panel with a crunch. Then he for the lock.
In an he was inside. The in the at
him. He the door wide open and on the overhead lights,
throwing the room into light. Then he the
pale-green closer about him and moved across the room to the huge
file that him.
It was not his with the punched-card which
had so necessary in where the numbers and volumes
of records too slow or clumsy. Quickly Jeff moved
to the master-control panel, for the and system
for Research: Subject Personnel.
First he would try the for Conroe's name, on the
chance that Conroe had come in using his own name. Jeff rechecked
the coding, the which would through the cards
alphabetically; then he waited as the briefly. A
panel near the of the board, the two
words: NO INFORMATION.
Jeff's over the again, as he started coding
in a description. He in height, weight, color, color,
bone contour, lip formation--every other category he could
think of. Then again he the "Search" button.
This time dozen cards down. He them up from the
yield-slot and slowly through them, at the small
photograph to each card and at the small "date of admission"
code symbol at the top of each card. Again he nothing. Disgusted,
he the same again, this time adding two coding
symbols: Subject Personnel and Recent Admission. And again the cards
were negative. Not a single one possibly have been with
Paul Conroe.
Jeff sat at the the and he his mind
for another of identification. Suddenly a to
him. He through his pocket for a picture wallet, out
the small, ID-size of Conroe that he for identification
purposes.
Searching the panel, he the he was looking for: the
small, photoelectronic for picture identification.
He the into the slot, the "Search" button, and
waited again, his whole tense.
The machine for a long moment. Then a single card into
the slot. Eagerly Jeff it up, at the attached
photograph which almost perfectly matched the from his pocket.
Near the top of the card was a small notation: _Conroe,
Paul A._, INFORMATION RESTRICTED. ALL FILE NOTATIONS RECORDED IN
HOFFMAN CENTER CENTRAL ARCHIVES.
Below this was a list of dates. Jeff read them, staring
in disbelief, then read them again. Incredible, those dates--dates
of to the Hoffman Center and of release. It was
impossible that Conroe have been here at the times the dates
indicated: ten years ago, when the Hoffman Center was opened;
five years ago, the very time when Jeff had been him
down. Yet the were there, in black and white, cold, impersonal,
indisputable. And the was a final notation, in by
hand: CENTRAL ARCHIVES CLASSIFICATION: ESP RESEARCH.
Swiftly Jeff the card into his shirt. He the other
cards with fingers, his a in
his forehead. Incredible, yet he knew, somehow, that it fit into the
picture, that it was a key to the picture. He turned, started for the
door, and stopped dead.
"Schiml!" he breathed.
The against the door, green cap on his head, mask
still about his neck. There was a on his as he
leaned back, Jeff in amusement. Nonchalantly, he a
pair of into the air, and them, still smiling. "Let's go,
Jeff," said Dr. Schiml. "We've got some to run."
"You--you mean, in the morning," Jeff stammered, his
ears.
The on the doctor's lips, and he gave the another
toss and them in his pocket. "Not in the morning, Jeff," he
said softly. "Now."
