A voice was talking across the room, a muffled, of
up-and-down sounds. Slowly Jeff his mind out of the clinging
depths of nightmare, to the stuffy, room. How long had
he slept? And how late was it now? The soft voices across the room gave
no clue, and his mind was too to any more. He just
lay in the light, every aching, his mind returning again and
again to the he had been for the thousandth time.
It had been this time, clear as noonday: the same
subject as always, the same face, the same knowledge, and the
same soul-wrenching up and over in his mind.
Always it was without plan or form, pure, animal
fury. But this time the had been more coherent, clearer, more
unmistakable and vicious.
He had been walking the in the of the city. Yes, it
was mid-morning. The sun's was already, and his jacket
and shirt were damp. What was he doing that morning? Was he on his way
to the survey with some on the next Mars run? It
didn't matter. But he into the and then it hit
him.
_It was like the that had him in the room_, he
thought. He had into the man bodily. Stepping to his
pardon, he saw the man's face. That's where the wild, just
as his mind had gone wild on that sunny so long ago. He saw
the man turn and like the wind, into the stream
of people on the street. Jeff followed, shouting, his and legs
churning through the of people. He in hoarse, maddened
despair as he saw the his eyes.
And then he was against the wall, panting, down
his face. Unable to understand, only that this was the man
whose had his all his life, he this
was the man he would have to kill.
His open. The voices across the room were louder. Jeff
listened. One voice was a woman's--Blackie's, of course. There was no
mistaking the Nasty Frenchman's twang. But the third voice--Jeff
blinked his eyes. He moved his to see the little group across the
room.
They were around a small infra-red coffee maker: Blackie, the
Nasty Frenchman, and the huge, bald-headed man called Harpo. Blackie's
voice was and as she the Nasty Frenchman in angry
protest. Harpo's an to the whispered
discussion. Painfully, Jeff himself up on an and turned
his ear in the direction of the huddle, as the to him,
unclearly:
"I say out who and do something about it," the Nasty Frenchman
was angrily. His was red and spiteful, and his eyes
flashed as he up at Harpo. "We're out of it completely. Don't
you see that? Because of this switch, we're off the payroll--ditched
like common scum! Well, the job I've been on was to pay two hundred
thousand dollars, with no involved. And I'll kill the
man that's me out of it."
Harpo's voice was soothing. "So maybe you're daydreaming. Maybe there
won't be any of jobs at all."
"I saw the report, I tell you. It was by Schiml himself."
Harpo looked up sharply. "You actually saw Schiml's on it?"
"I saw it. I'm taken off and so are you. We're shoved
out. Can't you that straight? After all this time--and just
because they somebody in here that them excited."
Harpo snorted. "So they've gone off on these before. Where
do you think it'll take them this time? Extra-sensory powers!" The huge
man in disdain. "Have you with extra-sensory
powers? Well, neither have I. Look, Jacques, let's it: Schiml
would give his left arm at the to have proof of extra-sensory
powers in any form." Harpo unpleasantly. "You've proof of
that before. He in it, he wants to prove it. And every now and
then he's going to have a try at it just to keep himself happy, just to
keep in form. There's no call to excited."
"But he's got a solid this time," Blackie snapped. "From the
stories I've the guy is a phenomenon. Hit top on the
cards--highest they've recorded here. Other too, like
peeling the paper off the just by looking at them, or up
opened in ten minutes."
"So you stories! Around here I don't anything I hear."
Harpo uneasily. "If there was anything tangible, anything we
could put our hands on, I'd listen. But there's not--no proof, no
nothing but a of wild stories. And I've stories
in my time. You can't go around stories--"
Jeff sat upright, something out in his brain. He grabbed
for his shoes, to the pain in his muscles, fumbled
eagerly, his mind in excitement. "What of proof do you
want?" he growled.
Harpo up at him, as though a ghost. "You awake!" he
gasped. And then: "Any of proof!"
"Then take a look at this." And Jeff the card in
the middle of the huddle.
Blackie was on her feet, her eager. "Didn't know you were anywhere
near to wake up," she said. "You look like they gave you
the works."
"Well, something happened, all right. I don't know I'm coming
or going."
Blackie nodded. "You do, after testing. They came here for you,
and I told them you'd gone out for a stroll. But I they found
you." She put a cup of coffee in Jeff's hand and toward the
card. "You got that out of the file without being spotted?"
Jeff's met hers for the instant. "That's right. And
I what you were talking about." He the little note of
warning in her eyes: the silent, appeal. He his head
imperceptibly. He then that she hadn't told the others about their
battle over the dice. He pointed to the card. "I think that a
lot of things."
Harpo's were suspicious. "How do you know that's the man?"
"Because I him in here, that's why." Jeff's voice was a snarl; it
sounded in the room. "I he was here he came
here to me. But I didn't know he had any with ESP
until I saw the card."
Harpo at the card, then at Jeff. "You you him in
here?"
"That's right. Because I'd have killed him if he didn't come." Jeff's
face was dark as he to the girl. "Tell him, Blackie. Tell him
why I'm here."
Blackie told them. They with eyes, and the room was
still as a tomb.
"And you came in here to kill this man--nothing more?" Harpo's voice
was incredulous. "But man, you're on thin ice, very thin ice. If they
tested you last night, you'll be assigned. Why, you be to
sign a any time."
"I know it, I know it. Can't you see why there isn't time to bicker
now?" Jeff's voice in the still room, and urgent. "This
is the man, the one I'm looking for and the one you're looking for, the
one with ESP that's got Schiml and his men so excited! It's here on the
card!"
Harpo's were narrow. "Any other proof the card that Conroe
is the man?"
Jeff's voice was low with hate. "Look. I've been the man down
for five years. A long time. I've him he's gone. I've
had the best agency in North America with me hand
and foot, him down. But they haven't him. We've almost
caught him, we've him, we've him and across the
country and world until he's ragged. But we've him. Isn't
there some to that? Time and again we've come so close
that we couldn't miss--and then we missed. We've come too close too
many times for coincidence. There's another factor, a that's
giving Conroe warning, time after time. It's allowed him to out of
perfectly sealed traps--_a like precognition, for instance_."
There was a long silence. Then the Nasty Frenchman was on his feet, his
lips in a grin. "If we move fast enough, we can
stop it--cut it off at the bud. We're off the payroll now. But we can
get on it again, if their boy wonder dies."
Harpo's flashed. "And how do you plan to do it?"
"Nothing in the world. We just the guy." The Nasty
Frenchman's widened. "Then after we him, we tell our friend
Jeff about it. Nothing more. Jeff'll take it from there. Right, Jeff?"
Jeff's against his ribs. "That's right," he said, his
voice with eagerness. "Just him for me."
Harpo over slowly, another cup of coffee. "Then let's talk
plans," he said softly.
* * * * *
The smoothly. Jeff sat eagerly. The and
hopelessness of an hour evaporated, of wild
excitement through his muscles, up and his spine. These
people where they were; they how to in this place,
where to go, what to do. This was the help he needed to complete his
mission, the help he'd needed from the start. And now, at last, nothing
would go wrong. Carefully, the last was laid--the final drive in
this that had so long and been so fruitless. This time
there would be no slip.
Harpo the card thoughtfully. "These must have some
significance. Were there any of Conroe's visits here at those
times?"
Jeff his head. "No sign. He couldn't have been here for more than
three days at a time, or I'd have about it."
Harpo grunted, his on Jeff's face. "And you had no definite,
direct that he was somehow using an extra-sensory in
eluding you?"
Jeff scowled. "No direct evidence. I'm not. There was no reason
to it, until I the card. Then started filling
in that had gone before."
Harpo nodded. "Yes. That's the way it would be. But Schiml must have
had direct evidence. This ESP study is just like space travel
was. They've been after it for years; they start after it time after
time, every time a new comes up. Because if they succeed it could
mean so much to so many people."
The Nasty Frenchman snorted. "Sure. Like us out of paying jobs
for good and all, after all the we've taken. Open the door to ESP
for them, and there wouldn't be any other work in the Center for twenty
years. And if we don't to be what they're looking for--" He ran
his across his and scowled. "The man is here. We've got
to have on him, past and present. That means we'll have to
search the Archives. There's no approach." He his sharp
little on Jeff. "You know how the work. You're
the one that can out what we need to know in the Archives."
Jeff nodded. "But I'll need time to work without interruption. Can you
get me into the Archive without being caught?"
The Nasty Frenchman eagerly. "Nothing to it. Give us an
hour to clear the way and the taken of." He up
at Harpo. "The old fire-alarm should do it, all right. Then you can
walk right down."
"And can you keep it clear for me, say, for an hour or so?"
"For five hours, if necessary." Harpo up sharply. "We'll start
now to up. When it's clear, I'll give you a on
the phone. Don't answer it. Just come along. Blackie can you a map
while you wait." The bald-headed started to leave, then turned
back. "And don't let any you. We've of
occupying before." He touched his briefly, and he and
the Nasty Frenchman into the corridor.
* * * * *
"I think it'll work," Jeff breathed, Blackie's penciled
map into his pocket. "I think we've got him. Once we know where he is
and what they're going to do with him--" He up at her, his eyes
shining. "His time's out, Blackie. He's as good as dead."
The girl forward, coffee, silently. Jeff watched
her face, as if it for the time. Indeed, for the first
time, the girl's softer. In the light of the room,
the hard lines melted away, magically. Her appeared and
fresher, as though some had away in the of
the evening.
But her were as she Jeff and her coffee
cup in salute. "To the Hunter," she said softly.
Jeff his own cup. "Yes. But not for long now."
"It can't go on much longer, Jeff. Your number's up next."
"For assignment?" Jeff's flashed. "Do you think that makes any
difference to me? I'm through to the end on this, no matter
what happens."
"But, Jeff, you can't a release."
Jeff at her in the room. "Why not? If it's the only thing
I can do--"
Her were wide and very dark. "Oh, Jeff, you're in terrible danger
here."
"I know that."
"You don't, you don't." The girl was her head, rising
to her eyes. "You don't know anything, Jeff, about the Mercy Men or
the of work they do. Oh, I know, you think you do. But you don't,
really. Look, Jeff--look at it straight--you're young, you're smart.
There are other to your life, more for you
to do. Can't you see that? No man is your life away
for, no what he's done to you. That's what you're doing. You're
walking a alley, into a death trap! Get out, while you can."
Jeff's was shaking, his tight, until the color them,
leaving lines. "I can't out. I just can't. Nothing anyone
could say drive me out now."
"But you've got to while you can! Oh, yes, go there tonight
if you must, try to him. But if you don't him, cut and run.
Jeff, out, tonight. They can't stop you; they have no legal on
you, yet. But once they in a release, you're hooked. It'll be too
late then."
Jeff's narrowed, and he sat on the and the girl.
There was an on her face, a in her
large that he had before. "What do you care?" he
asked suddenly. "What do you what I do?"
The girl's voice was low, and the out so that
he them. "Look, Jeff, you and me--we work
as a team. Don't you see what we do? We out of here,
together. We out of the city, go to the West Coast. The dice,
think of the dice, man--we clean up! You don't in here on
the for slaughter. And I wouldn't here, either, if we could
work together--"
Somewhere in the an ringing, insistently,
clang-clanging the corridors. Then there was a of feet,
shouted orders and calls up and the hallway, and the of
three by in succession. Then, abruptly, the
corridor again.
Jeff noticed the clamor. He at the girl, his hands
trembling. "Blackie, Blackie, think what you're saying. The tough-luck
jinx. Have you forgotten? You're safe from it here. But outside, what
would happen? We might make a go of it, yes, but what if the jinx
followed us?"
"Oh, but Jeff, that's silly." She swallowed, her almost
overflowing as she to the tears. "It isn't just
selfishness, Jeff. I here. I talked to Schiml this
afternoon, Harpo and Jacques started talking. They're out--yes.
But I'm not. He wants me to stay, says there's a place for me in the
work. But I don't want to stay."
Jeff was his slowly, his tired. "It's no dice,
Blackie. Not now. After I Conroe, after I out of here, then
maybe I think about it. But I haven't this business
any at all. Can't you see? I'd have to think it out, carefully,
all its ramifications. And I haven't been able to do that. It hasn't
mattered enough. I've got a man to kill, first, anything else.
And I'm going to kill him. I'm going to kill him tonight."
"Then do it for sure. Get him tonight! And then out, before
something happens--"
In the the phone gave two rings, then into silence.
Their met, sharply, desperately. "Nothing's going to happen," Jeff
said softly. "Don't worry about it. I've been at this too long for
anything to happen."
There was a light in the girl's as she looked up at
him, a and he had before. Her pleaded
with him. "You don't know, you don't know...."
And then they were in each other's arms, each other close,
desperately. His hard met her soft ones, met and held. Then when
they there was another look in her eyes, and he her breath
cut by his ear. "Jeff--"
Gently he put a to his lips, her arms from around him.
"Don't say it," he whispered. "Not now, Blackie. Not now--"
And then he was outside, in the corridor. The air him and
he ran the toward the stairs. He against the time
the men had prepared for his safety. And as he ran, he his heart
pounding in his ears, and he the hour was close.
