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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ten From Infinity, by Paul W. Fairman
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Ten From Infinity
+
+Author: Paul W. Fairman
+
+Release Date: March 20, 2007 [EBook #20856]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TEN FROM INFINITY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Janet Blenkinship and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+SOMETHING WAS WRONG
+
+
+It began when a pedestrian got hit by a cab in New York City. No doubt
+it was the only motor mishap in the history of creation that reached out
+among the stars--for far out in space a signal was registered:
+_Something has gone wrong...._
+
+And something had gone wrong, for the doctors discovered their accident
+patient had _two_ hearts. It was the beginning of the discovery that the
+Earth had been invaded by 10 such creatures from Outer Space.
+
+Every effort was made to learn their purpose. An orbital flight was
+launched to spot alien bodies--only to be destroyed in space. One of the
+alien men was captured--but no threat of pain or death could unlock the
+secret in his brain.
+
+Something had gone wrong. And somehow, some way had to be found to make
+it right--before the threat of danger overwhelmed all mankind.
+
+
+AUTHOR'S PROFILE
+
+Ivar Jorgensen is the pen name of a former topflight magazine editor who
+is now devoting his full time to free-lance writing.
+
+He was born in St. Louis and spent most of his early years in the
+Midwest. Before getting into the publishing field he held a number of
+jobs, including those of elevator operator and theater usher.
+
+Mr. Jorgensen has written numerous science-fiction short stories as well
+as several contemporary and suspense novels. TEN FROM INFINITY is his
+first full-length science-fiction novel.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+_A Science-Fiction Novel_
+
+TEN FROM INFINITY
+
+Ivar Jorgensen
+
+Cover Painting by Ralph Brillhart
+
+
+
+
+A Monarch Books Science-Fiction Novel
+Published in January, 1963
+Copyright (C) 1963 by Ivar Jorgensen
+
+Monarch Books are published by MONARCH BOOKS, INC., Capital Building,
+Derby, Connecticut, and represent the works of outstanding novelists and
+writers of non-fiction especially chosen for their literary merit and
+reading entertainment.
+
+Printed in the United States of America
+All Rights Reserved
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+1
+
+
+It began when a pedestrian got hit by a cab at the corner of 59th Street
+and Park Avenue, Manhattan, New York City, U.S.A. No doubt it was the
+first motor mishap in the history of creation that reached out among the
+stars.
+
+The pedestrian was walking south on Park Avenue, toward Grand Central
+Station. He was looking at the upper skeleton of the vast new Pan Am
+Building which blocked out the sky in that direction. But he should have
+been watching traffic because a yellow cab tagged him neatly and knocked
+him across the walk into a clump of pigeons that scattered upward in all
+directions.
+
+The cab driver swore. Citizenry gathered. An alert free-lance news
+photographer who happened to be passing took the most important shot of
+his career. After a while, the ambulance came and the dazed pedestrian
+was pointed toward the nearest emergency ward, which happened to be in
+the Park Hill Hospital.
+
+The pigeons settled back. The curious went their different ways.
+
+And far out in space, among the yellow pinpoints we call stars, a signal
+was registered. The signal was of grave import to those who received it.
+
+The signal said, _Something has gone wrong._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From the springboard of this incident, there emerged several occurrences
+of note. The first in sequence took place in the Park Hill Hospital. The
+time of that particular ambulance's arrival was 11:15 P.M. At
+that hour the harvest of violence in Manhattan was being delivered to
+its logical granaries in the form of broken heads, slashed bodies, and
+dazed, shock-strained eyes. The examining rooms at Park Hill were full,
+and some cases of lesser import were waiting on stretchers and benches
+in the corridors.
+
+That was where the pedestrian waited. Unlike others, he was very
+patient. He seemed to understand that this sort of thing took time; or
+perhaps he didn't. At any rate, he lay staring up at the ceiling,
+unmoving, seemingly uncaring, until an intern named Frank Corson stopped
+beside his stretcher and looked down at him in moody-eyed weariness.
+Then Corson managed a smile.
+
+"Sorry about the service, mister. Full house tonight."
+
+"That's quite all--right."
+
+Corson touched the broken leg. "I can give you a shot if the pain's
+hitting too hard."
+
+"It does not--pain."
+
+"Stout fellow." Frank Corson probed with fingers that were growing more
+expert day by day. "Good clean break. Not swelling, either." He touched
+the patient's wrist, then put a stethoscope to his chest.
+
+Actually, he was thinking of a different chest and different legs at the
+time--the ones belonging to a copper-haired girl named Rhoda Kane.
+Rhoda's legs were far more alluring. Her chest had added equipment that
+was a haven of rest under trying circumstances, and Corson yearned for
+midnight when he would quit this charnel house and climb into Rhoda's
+convertible and--perhaps later--do a little chest analysis without
+benefit of stethoscope.
+
+Now he sighed, commandeered a passing orderly, and went to work.
+
+Twenty minutes later he saw his patient deposited in a ten-bed ward. He
+transcribed his data onto the clipboard at the foot of the bed, and
+looked guiltily into the hall to see how things were going. He felt
+guilty because he was tempted to dog it. And he did. He headed for the
+locker room where he punched a cup of coffee out of the machine and
+thought some more about Rhoda's legs.
+
+Fifteen minutes later, Corson climbed into the convertible and leaned
+over and kissed Rhoda Kane. "Hi, baby. You smell wonderful."
+
+"You smell of disinfectant, darling." She wore a yellow print dress that
+exposed a lot of healthily tanned skin. "Did you have a rough day?"
+
+He leaned back against the seat and pushed his legs as far under the
+dashboard as possible. He sighed and closed his eyes. But then he opened
+them again and his face went blank.
+
+She waited a few more moments and then said, "Honey--I'm here. Little
+Rhoda. Remember me?"
+
+The vague, thoughtful look vanished as he jerked his head around. "Oh,
+sure--sure, baby." He grinned. "A rough one. If I'd known doctoring was
+like this I'd have been a nice prosperous butcher."
+
+"Do you want to drive?"
+
+"No, you drive. I'll sit here and look at your beautiful profile."
+
+They drove to Rhoda's apartment--Frank couldn't afford one--and he put
+Rhoda at one end of the sofa and stretched out with his head in her lap.
+He unbuttoned her blouse, put a hand over her breast, and teased the
+nipple.
+
+"Mr. Corson, you're a wolf."
+
+"Kiss me."
+
+"Well, I don't know," she teased.
+
+He pulled her head down and she murmured, "Oh, darling...."
+
+But he let go of her in the middle of the kiss and, when she
+straightened, the blank, thoughtful look was back on his face.
+
+"Frank--what is it?"
+
+The look stayed. "I don't know."
+
+"Something's bothering you."
+
+"It seems to be. But I don't know what it is."
+
+"Did it happen at the hospital?"
+
+He frowned. "I guess it must have. It's been bugging me since--"
+
+Rhoda showed concern. "Did it have to do with a patient?"
+
+"Patients are all I work with. Let's see--" He stopped and his frown
+deepened. "It was that damned accident case. Broken leg. I set it and
+put him in ward five. I--"
+
+His frown deepened as he sat up. "Uh-huh. It was that damned pulse.
+That's it. There was something wrong. That pulse was even and steady
+but, Goddamn it, something was wrong!" He got to his feet. "Baby--I've
+got to go back to Park Hill."
+
+"Do you want to take the car or shall I drive you?"
+
+"You drive," he said absently as he got up from the sofa and reached for
+his necktie.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frank hurried in through the emergency entrance and went to the
+admissions desk. A kindly, gray-haired nurse was working with papers and
+she dug deep into the pile in response to Frank's query.
+
+"We didn't find much on him. An identification card with the name
+William Matson. Nothing else except a wallet initialed W. M. containing
+thirty-six dollars in cash."
+
+"_Nothing_ else?"
+
+The gray-haired nurse shook her head. "No social security number, no
+driver's license, no home or business address."
+
+"Damned odd, don't you think?"
+
+"Not at Park Hill. We get them in here without a blessed thing but their
+clothing. In fact, two weeks ago the boys picked up a stark-naked blonde
+out of a car crash on East River Drive."
+
+Frank grinned automatically, but the grin fell from his face like a mask
+the moment he turned from the desk. He went through the locker room and
+got his stethoscope on the way to Ward Five.
+
+The patient known to the hospital as William Matson lay quietly on his
+back, staring at the ceiling. Frank checked the clipboard. There were no
+notations but his own. He went around the bed and stood looking down at
+the patient.
+
+"Feeling better?"
+
+"I feel all--right."
+
+_There's some sort of a speech block here_, Frank thought as he bent
+over and lowered the sheet. "I'm just doing a little checking," he said
+casually. "No cause for alarm."
+
+"I am not--alarmed."
+
+Corson frowned slightly as he concentrated on his work. He went over the
+patient's torso, up and down, back and forth. At times he straightened
+to rest his back and stared down into the calm, expressionless face on
+the pillow.
+
+Twenty minutes passed, during which time Frank Corson checked and
+rechecked every inch of the man's torso. When he finished, he slowly
+folded his stethoscope and pulled the sheet back into place. He stared
+at the patient for a full minute without bringing the slightest change
+in the empty expression.
+
+"Sleep well," he said, and walked slowly away.
+
+Back in the street, five minutes later, he dropped into the seat beside
+Rhoda. She eyed him questioningly and when he did not respond, she
+asked, "Everything all right?"
+
+"I don't know. I guess so."
+
+"What do you mean--guess so? It is or it isn't."
+
+"There was something about a patient's heartbeat. I passed it over on
+the first examination, but it stuck in my mind. That's why I had to go
+back."
+
+"And ...?"
+
+"He's got two hearts."
+
+"He's _what_?"
+
+"He's got two hearts, my beautiful love. One in his chest, where it
+ought to be, and one in the center of his lower abdomen."
+
+"You're--you're kidding."
+
+"No, darling," Frank Corson said dreamily. "On this night of nights I
+found a man who is pretty rare indeed. A man with two healthy,
+functioning hearts."
+
+"All right," Rhoda asked wonderingly. "What do we do about it?"
+
+"We go home for the time being, baby--to your nice, private, wonderful
+apartment."
+
+"And ...?"
+
+"We make love," he said absently.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Les King, the free-lance news photographer, surveyed his night's work
+and was not happy. It had been singularly unproductive. A couple of
+sneak necking shots he'd snapped during a stroll through Central Park
+had come through a little too pornographic to be of value. Les threw
+them into the wastebasket. A shot of a man leaning out of a
+thirtieth-floor window came to nothing because the man had pulled his
+head in and closed the window. He hadn't jumped. There was a picture of
+a girl dodging a taxi. He'd caught her with both feet off the ground and
+a look of surprise on her face, but with her body arced backward and
+both hands on her rump as though she'd just been thoroughly and expertly
+goosed. Too vulgar. He put the pic aside.
+
+And the Park Avenue hit? Here it was, a shot of a guy lying where he'd
+dropped, with the pigeon's rocketing away. Not bad, but it lacked an
+angle. All that intern had found on him was a name. William Matson. No
+address. The hell with it.
+
+Les sighed and dropped the pic into his file case. Then he stopped. His
+face went blank. He pulled the pic out and looked at it again. He felt
+as if some nagging thought were trying to come to the surface, but
+nothing clicked, so he dropped the pic back into the file and went to
+the cooler where he opened an early-morning can of beer before sacking
+out. A hell of a life, he thought, wandering through nighttime Manhattan
+watching for people to take their mental pants down so he could get
+shots of their naked inner backsides.
+
+He finished the beer and went in to take a shower.
+
+Funny about that hit case. The guy had the damnedest expression on his
+face. Kind of like he was thinking, _Okay, so what do I do now?_
+
+Fifteen minutes later, Les was asleep.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There was always a certain tension involved in Frank Corson's visits to
+Rhoda Kane's apartment, with Rhoda usually slightly on edge, waiting for
+one of Frank's outbursts.
+
+An outburst consisted of his suddenly springing to his feet with a
+scowl and announcing: "Goddamn it, I don't belong here!"
+
+Rhoda always followed the same script at the beginning of these traumas
+by inevitably asking, "Why, darling? Why must you say that?"
+
+"Oh, hell, Rhoda! I don't want to hurt you but--"
+
+"Darling, you know I'll go to your room with you if you'd be more
+comfortable there."
+
+He strode to the window angrily and, for Rhoda, there was that
+indescribably sweet and exciting reaction she always got from his
+nakedness. _Like a Greek god standing there, she thought_, and it
+thrilled her even though she knew she was being a little subjective
+about it.
+
+She smiled with tender, understanding amusement as she realized Frank's
+pattern never varied. His outbursts never came until the first fierce
+need of her had been assuaged; this was to her liking because her need
+was as great.
+
+Reacting according to current, "broad-minded" thinking and Manhattan
+sophistication, she regarded herself and Frank as having a "good
+physical relationship." Which individual need was the greatest, she had
+never been able to say. But there certainly was something extraordinary
+about it. In analyzing it, she'd arrived at the conclusion that they'd
+been able, on the basis of personal rapport, to function in a completely
+uninhibited manner; thus, some of their love-making, when lifted out of
+context and surveyed objectively, might have been called abnormal. Rhoda
+did not think so, however; or, if she did, she blocked the idea
+successfully by telling herself that whatever she and Frank did together
+was all right because _they_ did it. She told herself it was good for
+them because they looked at it with a healthy attitude.
+
+She could, of course, have gotten this opinion, or one in complete
+opposition to it, from two different psychologists, but she preferred to
+play it as she saw it.
+
+She had wondered at times just how important the sex relation was in her
+attachment to Frank. It was of major importance, of that she was sure,
+but was it the key? If they drifted apart physically, would the other
+aspects of the relationship vanish? She thought not, but she certainly
+would not have been willing to put it to the test.
+
+Frank Corson was through looking out the window now and he began pacing
+nervously. "Sure--so it's fine to be a doctor. It's the sure-fire answer
+for later in life. But what about now? What about this crawling up the
+ladder inch by inch?" He turned on her defiantly.
+
+"Living on your money!"
+
+"You aren't!"
+
+"All right. Maybe not technically." He looked around the room
+resentfully. "Using your apartment for--"
+
+"Frank! When I have guests, do they hesitate because my apartment is
+nicer than--?"
+
+She knew she'd hurt him even before his head came around and his eyes
+narrowed. "So that's what it really is to you!"
+
+She'd said the wrong thing, but even as she sprang up from the bed she
+felt that it made no difference because he would have found something
+else. "I didn't mean it that way. You know I didn't."
+
+She ran to him and laid her hands on his chest; his eyes traveled down
+her naked body and his mind struggled. His expression said it was a
+little unfair of her to come so close and stand that way, nude and
+beautiful and eager, in front of him, especially when he had a point to
+make.
+
+"I'm a pauper trying to keep up with the rich."
+
+She knew how to break his mood now. She smiled and pressed against him
+lightly and said, "Uh-huh, but what a pauper. And darling, money
+wouldn't change that part of it a bit."
+
+He drew her to him violently. The impact of their bodies hurt her ribs
+but she gloried in the pain. She let her knees weaken and sank to the
+thickly carpeted floor, bringing him down with her.
+
+She knew Frank's outburst was over--at least for that day.
+
+Later, on the bed, he opened his eyes sleepily. "What time is it?"
+
+"A little after ten."
+
+"That gives us almost two more hours." He looked out over the East
+River. "It's beautiful."
+
+"_Isn't_ it?"
+
+"If I went right into research--took a job somewhere--I could afford to
+give this to you."
+
+She thought of saying, _But, darling, I've got it already_, and decided
+a change of subject would be more judicious and said, "You _were_
+kidding last night, weren't you?"
+
+"Kidding?"
+
+"About the man with two hearts."
+
+Frank grinned a little sheepishly. He was extremely handsome and totally
+unconscious of it, and when he grinned that way it made him look like a
+little boy caught stealing jam, and Rhoda always wanted to hug him. But
+she forebore as he said, "It does seem a little silly, doesn't it?"
+
+"You'd know more about that than I do. Is it silly?"
+
+"Let's say the chances of such a thing happening are rather remote."
+
+"You only used your stethoscope last night?"
+
+"That was all. I went by what I heard."
+
+"What will you do now? X-ray?"
+
+"I'm not sure I'll do anything. The idea is so preposterous."
+
+She regarded him thoughtfully. "It's not like you to lose interest in
+anything until you know the answer."
+
+He snubbed out his cigarette. "Let's forget Park Hill and funny
+anatomies, baby. Let's sit on the terrace and bathe ourselves in luxury
+the way the TV ad says."
+
+And that was the way things stayed for two hours. The time passed
+swiftly, and when Frank was finally dressed and ready for the street, he
+refused Rhoda's offer to drive him to the hospital because she was very
+late, too. He kissed her good-bye, went down the twelve floors in the
+elevator, and hurried out of the building.
+
+There was no cab in sight and he began to walk. Half a block later he
+turned a corner and stopped dead. He was facing a man who was coming in
+the other direction. He stared. The man stared back. Frank automatically
+stepped aside, but the man did exactly the same thing, at the same time,
+and they did a little dance there on the sidewalk. Then the man veered
+around him and moved on up the street. Frank turned and stared after
+him, then walked slowly in his own direction.
+
+It was the same man. It was the Park Avenue hit. It was the man he'd
+left in Ward Five with a broken leg. It wasn't a brother or a cousin or
+a chance resemblance. It was the man himself or an exact double. And
+what were the percentages against attending a patient one night and
+meeting his exact double on the street the next morning?
+
+They were fantastic. Like hitting the Irish sweeps.
+
+It was the man. It had to be.
+
+Except that he wasn't broken-legged now. He was walking across the Upper
+East Side, wearing that same look that was as good as anyone else's,
+except that you got the impression of an emptiness behind his eyes.
+
+
+
+
+2
+
+
+Those in the know in Washington, D.C., upon seeing Brent Taber rush to a
+taxi or dodge a pedestrian on Pennsylvania Avenue, could well say,
+"There walks power." But there were few indeed who possessed enough
+knowledge of the Washington inner structure to be able to make this
+observation.
+
+Brent looked more like a coal heaver than a public servant with a
+well-oiled escalator into the White House. He appeared more able to
+direct a gang of dock workers than to jockey a delicate issue through
+the bloody jungle of national politics. Many of the people who accepted
+this deception did so at their peril and were not around any more. To
+others not so foolish, Brent Taber symbolized a completely necessary
+facet of a working democracy--secret government. This necessity sprang
+from the realization that even an open society must maintain areas of
+privacy or it is doomed.
+
+Such was the man, and such was his mission of the moment--an issue of
+the utmost secrecy. So hush-hush, in fact, was this mission that when
+Brent Taber arrived at his office that morning and found Senator Crane
+pacing his reception-room carpet, his heavy eyebrows gathered and he
+began mentally checking his "tight ship" for a leak.
+
+Senator Crane was the exact opposite of Brent, in that he looked to be
+exactly what he was; a figure rigidly type-cast to the role of a
+blustering, tactless servant of the people. Which, in Crane's case,
+meant that he was a servant of Crane's career and any faction of his
+supporters that could further it. Still, the Senator could not be called
+dishonest. He was merely a flexible rationalizer. He sincerely believed
+that what was good for Crane was good for the "folks back home."
+
+And just now, he felt that a knowledge of what the hell was going on in
+Brent Taber's orbit was probably not good for anybody and had better be
+aired.
+
+As Brent entered, Crane came right to the point. "Goddamn it, Taber,
+just what in blazes is going on around here?"
+
+Brent's thick lips hardly moved, a characteristic that Crane found
+infuriating because that was the way shady characters talked into
+Senatorial investigation microphones and it looked pretty bad. But
+Brent's words came quite clear: "Routine business, Senator--an honest
+effort to get a day's work done."
+
+"You mean to tell me the meeting that's been set up here is routine?"
+
+Brent shrugged. "Meetings are meetings, Senator."
+
+Crane ticked it off on his fat fingers. "Pender of the Army, Bright of
+the Navy, Jones of the Air Force, Hagen of the FBI, Wilson from
+Treasury--they all trooped through here into your private conference
+room." He pointed pompously at his own chest. "But Crane of the
+Senate--"
+
+"You forgot Birch of the State Department," Brent cut in. "Or hasn't he
+arrived yet?"
+
+"--Crane of the Senate is barred! Now just what in the hell--?"
+
+There are times for tact and times for bluntness, and this was a time,
+Brent decided, for the latter. "What goes on here, Senator," he said,
+"is none of your business. Otherwise, you would have been invited."
+
+Crane's face darkened and Brent thought pleasantly of a brain hemorrhage
+blowing the top of his fat head off. But this was too much to hope for.
+
+"Brent," Crane exploded, "I'll get you! So help me, I'll get you! Just
+who the hell do you think you are--demeaning the dignity of the United
+States Senate? Just who are you to say what the people should or should
+not know?"
+
+"Decisions of that nature are made upstairs, Senator. I don't presume to
+possess the judgment needed in such matters."
+
+"You're an arrogant bureaucrat! Your kind comes and goes because when
+you get too goddamned arrogant the people rise up in their wrath and
+knock you off."
+
+Marcia Holly, Brent's secretary, was studiously transcribing some notes
+and Brent turned his scowl on her because, damn it, she was laughing
+like hell at the whole thing. And, by God, a secretary didn't have the
+right to laugh at a United States Senator, even with her eyes, no matter
+how much a congenital idiot he was.
+
+"I'm sorry, Senator," Brent said. "If you have a complaint, please take
+it up with my superiors. Just now I--"
+
+"Your superiors? And who the devil are they? Who can find them? Where do
+they have offices? Go around trying to find your superiors and nobody
+ever heard of you."
+
+Brent half smiled as he felt a sneaking admiration for Crane. The
+son-of-a-bitch had a disarming quality of honesty. If he planned to
+knife you, he drove straight in, the knife held high.
+
+"One of the disadvantages of being a negative personality, Senator,"
+Brent murmured.
+
+"Sure! You're about as negative as a charging grizzly," Crane snorted
+and headed for the door as though his air had been cut off.
+
+After his bulk had vanished into the corridor, Brent turned a scowl on
+Marcia Holly. "And what are you snickering about."
+
+She raised large blue, innocent eyes. "Me? I? Oh, golly. I just found a
+cute little Freudian slip in these notes and--"
+
+"Shut up. Are they all here?"
+
+"Birch of the State Department sent regrets. A duty call on the
+Tasmanian Embassy or something."
+
+"Okay--and next week he'll be screaming to high heaven about being left
+out."
+
+Marcia's laughing eyes agreed. "Ain't it the truth?" she marveled.
+
+Brent strode past her and expertly mussed her sleek hairdo in a quick
+gesture. As he entered his private conference room, he turned and
+grinned at her silent fury.
+
+Inside, they were all waiting for him, seated around a teakwood table.
+The wall-to-wall carpeting was wine-red. The chairs were deep and
+upholstered. And the men who sat in them were distinguished only by
+their surroundings and their uniforms. Their metal and their worth were
+hidden inside.
+
+Brent moved to the end of the table and scanned them moodily. "Okay,
+gentlemen. I'll talk. Then if you have any questions--shoot them." He
+took a deep breath and began:
+
+"We are faced with a situation that must be kept top secret for two
+reasons: First, it may be the first move in an attempt to subjugate or
+destroy our planet; two, it is so utterly ridiculous on its face that a
+public announcement would be greeted by hoots of laughter from pole to
+pole." Brent's ugly scowl deepened at what he seemed to feel was an
+injustice. "Even the Eskimos would get a yack out of it."
+
+The group waited, withholding judgment, evidently waiting to see whether
+or not it was a laughing matter. They were conceding nothing. Brent
+studied them for a moment and then went on.
+
+"Last week, in Denver, early in the morning," he said, "a man was found
+dead on a residential-section street. There was no apparent cause of
+death. A routine autopsy revealed some peculiar things about the man's
+insides. For one thing, he had two hearts--"
+
+Jones of the Air Force, a dignified, gray-haired man, paused in firing
+his cigar and gave the impression he was lighting his way through the
+darkness. Bright of the Navy, a thin man with a huge Adam's apple,
+allowed it to bob three times in deference to the startling nature of
+Brent's statement. Pender of the Army raised one eyebrow and let it
+fall. To a keen observer, Hagen of the FBI would have revealed prior
+knowledge by reacting not at all.
+
+His mind was on the kid. He was thinking, _Christ! With all the damned
+miracle drugs and characters orbiting the earth in crazy capsules, they
+still haven't figured out a way to keep a six-year-old from getting a
+cold._ He remembered the kid waving from the window yesterday
+morning--when he'd been ordered East to attend this clambake--standing
+there beside Miriam, waving good-bye and barking like a sea lion. _What
+the hell was wrong with doctors? Why didn't they get with it on a
+stupidly simple thing like the common cold?_
+
+" ... two hearts and--" Brent reached to the left and pulled down a
+chart on a window shade-type rack that stood beside his chair, "--a
+rather interesting arrangement of the internal organs." He pointed with
+a thick finger. "You'll notice that the liver is exceptionally small,
+while the kidneys are large enough to service a horse. You'll note also
+that while the man had testicles, there is no prostrate gland."
+
+The group waited in a kind of guarded abeyance that could be easily
+sensed. Their silence gave the impression that they were asking: _Is
+somebody kidding us?_
+
+But there was certainly no lightness in Brent's manner. His arm dropped
+and he scowled at the far end of the table as he said, "Now, the blood.
+There was something strange about the blood--"
+
+The door from Marcia Holly's reception room-office opened and she came
+in silently, followed by a white-coated waiter who set a tray on the
+table. The coffeepot on the tray was silver; the cups, fine china; the
+napkins, linen.
+
+"--something very strange about the blood in that it conformed to all
+necessary specifications and yet it had a synthetic quality about it
+..."
+
+Goose pimples formed on Hagen's neck and walked gently down his spine.
+Nothing was missing in this setup--synthetic blood, two hearts, oversize
+kidneys. Hagen got a quick mental flash of a barker outside a circus
+sideshow: _He walks like a man. He talks like a man. But for a thin
+dime, folks, you can see--_
+
+It was something to think and wonder about. And back in Chicago, he'd
+had lots of company. Everybody in the office that night had wondered,
+and you could see the vague uneasiness in their eyes as the creature
+sat, acting like a human being and, at the same time, like nothing from
+this world. You could see a vague revulsion in the people surrounding
+the creature. There was also uncertainty, and this from men who were
+required by their profession to be fairly certain about most things.
+
+"The blood," Jones of the Air Force said. "Could it have been a--well, a
+new kind of plasma?"
+
+"Hardly. You see, the variation was almost theoretical, if you can
+understand the term as I'm using it. Drawn from an ordinary human being,
+it would not have been questioned. It was just that in the light of
+other oddities in his man, it didn't seem right, somehow."
+
+"Pretty vague," Bright of the Army said.
+
+"This I'll grant you." Brent said. "Anybody for coffee?"
+
+Nobody was for coffee so Marcia and the waiter retired and Brent said,
+"Vague, I'll grant you. But let's get on with it. Two days later, a man,
+in every way identical, was found lying in the street in Pittsburgh,
+Pennsylvania. He was alive, but in a dying condition, and he succumbed
+on the way to the hospital. Cause of death, as in the first place,
+undeterminable. But the medics think it was some malfunctioning of the
+lungs.
+
+"All in all, gentlemen, eight identical specimens have been picked up in
+various American cities. Five are dead, two more are now in a comatose
+condition, at last report, and may very well be dead at this time. One
+is still alive and relatively healthy...."
+
+Alive and relatively healthy. The son-of-a-bitch! Hagen felt an odd
+senseless rage against the creature they'd picked up in a Chicago bar.
+
+Ordinarily it would have been a simple bull-pen, night-court case--a
+loud-mouth drunk refusing to pay for a drink. But much of his talk,
+anent enemy invasion, internal destruction, and civilian chaos, had been
+a little too rough for the other barflies to swallow, and complaints had
+been made. Later, when Bureau men went around trying to get something
+tangible in the way of evidence, they found themselves dealing in
+frustration. The complainants had left without giving their names. The
+barkeep really hadn't heard anything. The actual charges had gone up in
+smoke. But by that time, Washington was very much interested. The man
+was questioned and it was the damnedest thing Hagen had ever gone
+through ...
+
+"By identical," Jones of the Air Force said, "you of course mean--"
+
+Brent's dark, knifelike eyes sliced out at Jones. "By identical, I mean
+just that."
+
+Bright's throat bobbed as the astonishing implication came home to him.
+"Hell, man! You mean--"
+
+"I mean these specimens do not merely bear a resemblance to each other.
+They were not just similar as to organisms and physical structure. They
+were all _exactly_ alike; as alike as eight new cars of the same make
+and model lined up side by side ..."
+
+_Identical._ Hagen didn't know anything about that. He hadn't seen the
+others. But he knew that there was something frightening about the one
+they'd picked up in Chicago. At first glance he could have been Mr.
+Anybody, from Anywhere, U.S.A. A youngish-looking forty, you would have
+figured, with a sprinkling of gray at the temples and a face women could
+have found interesting. He had the unpaunched figure of a man who had
+taken good care of himself; he was quietly dressed in a blue suit; he
+looked like a decent-enough guy who just happened to have gotten stiff
+on the double hooker he'd ordered and sounded off without meaning to.
+
+In fact, he was still sounding off when they got him into the
+interrogation room. And when the barflies called his talk treasonable,
+they hadn't been fooling.
+
+Brent said, "Identical, gentlemen, even to the finger-prints; to the
+very last ridge."
+
+Pender's eyebrows tried to crawl up his forehead and disappear into his
+hairline. "That's utterly and completely ridiculous."
+
+Brent smiled. "Then, at least, I've gotten one idea over to you--that a
+public release on this thing would be greeted with hoots of derision by
+the realistic American public."
+
+"And perhaps deservedly so?"
+
+"I think not," Brent said gravely.
+
+_Is it some incredibly ingenious hoax?_ Hagen asked himself the question
+and found no answer. He only remembered the words and the eyes and the
+tone of the creature that walked like a man ...
+
+"He was our--father. They had him a long time before we--came. He was
+our father, and after we came they told us what we were to know and we
+knew--it."
+
+There it was--that odd little break, cutting off the word at the end of
+each sentence. It gave the impression of a mind groping, yet not really
+groping; a mind sure of itself, yet wondering.
+
+"What did you know?"
+
+"We knew what we were--for. Our--reason. We knew what we were created to
+do--here."
+
+"How many of you were there?"
+
+"Ten of--us."
+
+"You said, 'created to do here.' Where do you come from?"
+
+"There."
+
+"Where is _there_?"
+
+At this point the man or the creature, or whatever you wanted to call
+him, pointed upward.
+
+At this point, Cantrell, another of the interrogation group, turned away
+in disgust. "A kook! A kook with a religious compulsion. A character,
+and we got called out of bed to--"
+
+"--to get you ready to be destroyed," the creature cut in.
+
+"By fire and brimstone on judgment day?" Cantrell asked sarcastically.
+
+"No. By rendering you helpless by--"
+
+Here the creature swallowed, blinked and looked surprised--and changed
+magically. He--if it really was a he--didn't jump up and kick a hole in
+the ceiling or anything like that. In fact, nothing tangible happened.
+There just seemed to be an invisible barrier that rose suddenly around
+him.
+
+Then there was the thing that chilled every man in the room; a thing as
+tangible as the walls and the furniture; yet a thing no man could define
+in words.
+
+This was when Cantrell, a high-strung individual at best, reacted
+violently to the change in the creature. In an instinctive blaze of
+anger and frustration, Cantrell reached out and slapped him brutally
+across the face.
+
+Velie, the agent in charge, also acted instinctively as he lunged
+forward to restrain Cantrell. But then he froze, as did all the men in
+the room, to stare.
+
+It was not what the prisoner did; it was what he did not do. There was
+absolutely no reaction to the blow--no reaction physically, emotionally,
+or mentally. It was as though the blow had not been struck; as though
+this were some kind of a moving, breathing zombie.
+
+So tangible, so seemingly sourceless was this feeling of loathing, that
+Hagen would have been sure it had affected only himself if he had not
+seen its effect on the others.
+
+Yet none of them referred to it. Nor was this strange, because there
+just weren't any words to describe the feeling one gets from contact
+with a pleasant-faced, quietly dressed example of the walking dead.
+
+Backing away from this powerful emotional reaction, Hagen forced himself
+onto an intellectual level, and asked himself what had brought about the
+change in the creature. Why had it--Hagen now had to regard the strange,
+walking enigma as neuter--after functioning to some extent as a human,
+reverted suddenly to what seemed to be its natural state?
+
+He conceded that if he knew the answer to that one, he could be of great
+service to the FBI and the nation--and, no doubt to the world ...
+
+Pender of the Army now had a question. "What information have you gotten
+from the surviving man?"
+
+"Not a great deal, as yet. However, in our experiments we've learned
+something rather frightening."
+
+"And what's that?"
+
+"He is totally impervious to drugs of any description whatever."
+
+"That's impossible!"
+
+"So it would seem. But the sodium pentathol injection he was given could
+just as well have been so much water."
+
+The group pondered this information, each after his own fashion. Then
+Birch of the State Department made a precise, scholarly observation.
+"Incredible!"
+
+Brent smiled faintly. "One point of vital importance. We do know that
+there were, originally, ten of these creatures roaming the country.
+Eight are accounted for. The other two are still at large."
+
+Jones of the Air Force asked, "Were all eight apprehended in large
+cities?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Shouldn't that mean something to us?"
+
+"Well, it's a pattern, all right, but no one's been able to give it any
+meaning--so far."
+
+No one had any further comment on that point. Brent waited a moment and
+then threw the bombshell. "We are quite sure that these creatures are of
+extraterrestrial origin."
+
+For a time it seemed as though Brent's bombshell had been a dud. There
+was no comment from around the table--no sound of any kind. But each man
+was evaluating the information after his own fashion. The key thought,
+no doubt, other than a natural and instinctive moment of sheer unbelief,
+was that this marked a giant, forward lunge in world history. And also,
+no doubt, in this group of responsible men, there was a common question:
+It would appear that our world had at last come to grips with the
+universe around it. Was our world ready?
+
+And there was general doubt.
+
+Now the questions came. From whence? To what purpose? Hostile? Benign?
+Dangerous? Harmless?
+
+"What other information was gained from the creature?"
+
+"Very little. He knows our language. He is here for a definite and
+clear-cut purpose. Probably hostile. But what he was supposed to do or
+how he was supposed to accomplish it we do not know."
+
+"Do you think you will eventually get these answers?"
+
+"I think," and there was an ominous note in Brent's voice, "that we
+will. If not from the creature himself, then in some sudden and far more
+violent manner."
+
+This statement also had impact. It seemed that the group had overlooked
+Brent's previous revelation that ten of the creatures had arrived and
+only eight had been accounted for.
+
+"Perhaps," Jones said hopefully, "whatever their plan, it required the
+participation of all ten."
+
+"In that case," Brent said quietly, "we have nothing to worry about. At
+least, at the moment."
+
+"Are you of the opinion that these creatures have been dropped anywhere
+else on earth?"
+
+"All I can say on that score is that all seems quiet around the world.
+Of course, if Russia has rounded up a quota of these two-hearted
+characters they wouldn't be likely to tell us. They certainly haven't
+shown up in the European countries with whom we consult. All I can say
+about the situation behind the Iron Curtain is that they have made no
+inquiries of us relative to the matter--and we certainly have made no
+inquiries of them. Also, our people in the sensitive Eastern areas
+report nothing indicative."
+
+Pender bobbed his throat and said, "You told us you're sure the
+creatures are from outer space. That makes our interests with Russia
+mutual. Therefore, why shouldn't open inquiry be made?"
+
+Brent frowned. "An entirely logical question. As a matter of fact, I
+recommended that course. Nothing has been down in that direction,
+however. At least, not to my knowledge."
+
+"I assume the White House knows about this."
+
+Brent nodded but did not elaborate, perhaps because to have done so
+would have tended to clarify his own connection with the top spot in the
+nation; a relationship accepted but not thoroughly understood by any man
+present.
+
+"May I inquire as to Senator Crane?" Bright asked.
+
+"I see no reason why you shouldn't."
+
+"He was in your anteroom when I entered. Obviously he was mad. I assume
+that was because you excluded him from this meeting."
+
+"Correct." Brent Taber's eyes turned a trifle steely. "In fact, I'd like
+to know exactly how he found out about the meeting."
+
+No one offered any data on this point and Bright asked, "Is it wise to
+keep information of this vital nature from the United States Senate?"
+
+"The information has not been kept from the United States Senate," Brent
+corrected. "Let's say it has been kept from certain United States
+Senators on the theory that the interests of the nation can best be
+served by a closed-door policy on this matter until it becomes
+clarified."
+
+Whether they agreed or not, the men present accepted this as coming from
+the top, and they would automatically abide by it.
+
+"I suppose," Pender said, "that every effort is being made to apprehend
+the missing pair."
+
+"Every effort of which we are capable."
+
+"What conclusions have you drawn from the fact that these ten creatures
+are identical?"
+
+"That they are not human beings, in the strictest sense of the word,"
+Brent replied gravely.
+
+"Then what are they?"
+
+"We believe they are androids."
+
+"And what the hell is an android?" Jones snapped.
+
+"A synthetic." Brent smiled just slightly. "In this case, men not born
+of women. All this is detailed in the confidential report that will be
+handed to you when you leave. The report, incidentally, is slanted in a
+way that obscures its vital nature, but on the basis of what has been
+said at this meeting, I'm sure you'll find all your answers."
+
+Brent paused, waiting for questions. When none came, he said, "I guess
+that about covers it, gentlemen--at least, all that we have at the
+moment. You'll be kept informed. The meeting is adjourned."
+
+He glanced around. "Oh, by the way, as you'll note in the confidential
+report, this project will be identified as 'Operation Blue Sky.'"
+
+"Where did they get that one?" Jones snorted.
+
+"I don't know. The term originated higher up. Possibly," Brent murmured,
+"because somewhere out in the blue sky lies the answer." His manner
+changed and he glanced briskly around. "Would anyone care for a cup of
+coffee?"
+
+No one was interested in coffee and the group filed out.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ten minutes later, the white-coated waiter came to pick up the things.
+He crossed to the coffeepot, lifted it, and took a tiny device out of
+the hidden space formed by the pot's legs and its bottom. This, he
+slipped into his pocket before picking up the tray and going out as he'd
+come.
+
+
+
+
+3
+
+
+Frank Corson got what was possibly the greatest shock of his life when
+he walked into Ward Five and saw William Matson lying in bed. It wasn't
+so much that he hadn't expected it. He had, because he was too firmly
+locked in reality to believe the man he saw on the Upper East Side could
+possibly have been the broken-legged Matson. Still, seeing Matson in bed
+had the effect of bringing unreality into a realm where he had to cope
+with it. Perhaps, during the trip back to the hospital, he'd been
+mystically apprised of what lay ahead and wanted subconsciously to avoid
+it. Perhaps his shock was a cringing away from facing a problem.
+
+At the moment, of course, he didn't know what the problem was. There was
+a mystery here, but only that, and his first thought was to report it to
+higher authority--the business about the two hearts--and have it
+investigated. With this thought in mind, he walked down the corridor and
+reached for the knob of the door marked _Superintendent_.
+
+But quite suddenly he stopped, reversed himself, and went back to Ward
+Five. He approached Matson's bed and looked down at him. Matson, empty
+of expression, stared back, and again Frank Corson sensed rather than
+saw the emptiness behind the eyes.
+
+"How are you feeling?"
+
+"I feel very--well."
+
+"It wasn't a bad break. How would you like to leave the hospital?"
+
+"I would like to leave the--hospital."
+
+Frank felt an odd, inner frustration. What in the devil was wrong with
+the man? He sounded like a child just learning the language. Yet there
+was nothing else to indicate backwardness. He looked pretty much like a
+self-sufficient, self-contained adult.
+
+"I can sign you out--get you a pair of crutches. By the way, I don't
+think the hospital got your home address."
+
+"My home--address?"
+
+"Yes. The place you live." There was a pause, and finally Frank realized
+the man wasn't going to answer. "Your home, man. Where you live."
+
+"I'm looking for a--home."
+
+"Oh, I see. New in town?"
+
+"Yes, new in--town."
+
+"I have a place," Frank said, and it seemed to him as though someone
+else were talking from within him--that he was only a listener. "You can
+crowd in with me until you get settled somewhere."
+
+"I can crowd in with--you?"
+
+"Okay?"
+
+"Okay."
+
+"Fine, I'll see that you're signed out. Ever walk on crutches before?"
+
+"I never walked on--crutches."
+
+"Nothing much to it. You'll get the knack."
+
+Frank left the bed and headed toward the office, asking himself as he
+went, _Why in hell did I do that?_ Then he found the reason--or at least
+a reason that would suffice.
+
+The discovery of a man with two hearts might be worth something. At
+least, it would put Frank Corson, unknown intern, into the spotlight for
+a while. This was pretty vague thinking but it made a kind of sense and
+Frank settled for it in lieu of trying to analyze the strange
+compulsion, the odd foreboding deep within him.
+
+_Here's a thing that might do me some good_, he told himself. _Why not
+take advantage of it?_
+
+Perhaps he was rigidly blocking out the cause of his unrest--that he was
+more or less dependent upon Rhoda Kane for the luxuries that were
+involved in seeing her, having a relationship with her. He could neither
+ask her to dine with him on his level, at some place like Nedick's, nor
+could he refuse to go with her to The Forum or the Four Seasons. He
+could not take her to his miserable furnished room on East 13th Street,
+nor refuse rendezvous in her Upper East Side apartment.
+
+He was trapped and was thus desperately looking for a way out.
+
+And somehow, grotesquely, there were indications that a man with two
+hearts might help to provide the answer.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The tape recorder stuck to the bottom of the Taber conference coffeepot
+had cost Senator Crane a hundred dollars. He had now listened to it four
+times and was pacing the floor of his office, scowling darkly at the
+walls. An android! What in hell was an android? What kind of a stupid,
+impossible thing was this?
+
+In a flash of panic, Crane wondered if it was all a diabolical
+machination of Brent Taber's. Maybe Taber knew all about the recorder.
+Maybe the whole meeting was an elaborate plant to maneuver an earnest,
+alert senator into making a public fool of himself. Taber was certainly
+capable of such a thing.
+
+And that was how it had begun to look. Still, that was ridiculous. The
+Army, the Navy, the Air Force--they were all involved. Only
+Congress--the true representatives of the people--had been ignored. And,
+by God, he'd do something about it!
+
+Crane stopped pacing but continued to scowl at the wall. Now, what
+department of research could find him some data on androids?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Les King was awakened by a knock on his door. He rolled over, blinked
+and looked at his watch. A little after two in the afternoon, which was
+equivalent to midnight for Les. He pulled on his robe and went to the
+door and opened it.
+
+He blinked.
+
+Sure, no doubt about it. The man standing there was the one he'd snapped
+on Park Avenue the other A.M., lying among a bunch of pigeons,
+with a broken leg. But evidently that hadn't been the case because his
+legs were okay now. It couldn't even have been a sprain, judging by the
+way he was standing there. He was a fairly tall, good-looking guy in his
+middle forties maybe--brown hair, blue eyes with a kind of vacant look
+about them.
+
+And there was something else, goddamn it; something that kept evading
+Les; something that had bothered him when he'd first developed the
+print. _Let's see, what is this guy's name? The ambulance intern found
+it in his jacket pocket on a half-torn identification card. William
+Matson._
+
+But, damn it, there was something else.
+
+"Mr. Lester--King?"
+
+"Right. What can I do for you?"
+
+"I had trouble in locating--you. I wish to make a--purchase."
+
+Queer duck. Damned queer. "What can I sell you?"
+
+"You are a--photographer. You took a picture of a man injured on
+Park--Avenue. I wish to buy that--picture."
+
+Les knotted his robe and stepped back. "Sure. Come on in."
+
+The man entered the room and stood silent while Les got out his file.
+"What do you want it for?" he asked.
+
+"It is for my personal--use."
+
+"Sure." Les handed the glossy to the man he identified in his own mind
+as Matson. "That the one?"
+
+After a grave inspection, the other replied, "Yes. How much does it
+cost--me?"
+
+"Ten bucks?"
+
+Without comment, the man sorted a ten-dollar bill from a skimpy roll he
+took from his pocket and handed it to Les. With that, he turned and
+walked out, closing the door after him and leaving several questions in
+Les King's mind. Was this a vanity operation? Had the guy merely wanted
+a glossy of himself? He hadn't impressed Les as being that kind of man.
+Was there a reason for wanting the pic off the market? That didn't make
+sense either because he hadn't asked for the negative.
+
+Quite suddenly, in answer to the really important, the nagging,
+question, Les snapped his fingers. The hem of his dressing gown flapped
+around his skinny legs as he dived to his old file rack and went back
+where the dust was thick. He brought out an envelope, dug into it, and
+found what he was looking for--an old newspaper clipping dated some ten
+years back. It consisted of a headline:
+
+  LOCAL POLITICIAN DISAPPEARS
+
+The clipping was from the Kenton, New York, _Chronicle_, an upstate
+weekly, and the news story told how Judge Sam Baker had vanished on a
+fishing trip to a nearby lake. Accidental drowning had been the verdict
+but, as yet, the body had not been recovered.
+
+Les King stared at the clipping. The body, as he remembered it, never
+was recovered, either, but the drowning verdict stood intact and the
+judge had been gradually forgotten.
+
+Les King's interest in the affair had been financial. He'd gone to
+Kenton, talked Baker's widow out of a couple of family photographs, and
+had hiked back to New York, hoping for a sale to a big daily.
+
+But the story hadn't caught on even though it well might have, because
+Baker's power extended into Albany and could thus have interested New
+York City. All in all, it had been a profitless speculation on Les
+King's part.
+
+Now, however, it seemed to be coming to life again. Les stared at the
+photo under the headline. It was a good one--exceptionally clear.
+
+And beyond a shadow of a doubt, it was the man who had just come to Les
+King's room to purchase a glossy of himself for ten dollars. No wonder
+the sight of that stranger had nagged at Les. He'd seen that face
+before.
+
+"Now just what in the hell have we got here?" Les mused. Something
+definitely worth looking into, that was for sure.
+
+He reached for his pants.
+
+
+
+
+4
+
+
+Dr. Rudolph Entman, one of the world's foremost neurologists, stripped
+off his rubber gloves and scowled at the strange body that lay on the
+table before him.
+
+"Goddamn it," he fumed, "it's artificially constructed. It's been
+hand-made--manufactured. And there's one thing I'd give a few years of
+my life to know."
+
+Brent Taber stared moodily into Entman's myopic little eyes and asked,
+"What's that, Doctor?"
+
+"How in hell did they do it?"
+
+"Who do you suppose _they_ are?"
+
+Entman looked ceilingward in a manner that indicated he might either be
+hunting for _them_ somewhere out beyond, or sending a prayer heavenward
+in a plea for Divine counsel and guidance.
+
+"Some form of entity with far greater intelligence than we possess."
+
+"You can tell me more than that, can't you?" Brent asked sharply. And
+when Doctor Entman looked up in surprise, he added, "Sorry for the tone.
+My nerves have gotten a little edgy lately."
+
+Entman smiled understandingly. "I don't wonder. As to this living
+machine--no ... it's not a machine because it did _live_. Let's see what
+we can figure out. What's it made of? The material used in its
+construction is--oh, hell--how can I put it? This way, maybe. Take a
+wool blanket and call it genuine flesh, blood and bone. Now, take a
+blanket made of one of the new synthetics--Dacron or any one of the
+other equally serviceable materials--call that the material this
+creature is made of. Figuring it that way--"
+
+"You mean our visitor's body is constructed of things that feel and look
+like flesh, blood and bone--work as well, but aren't. Right?"
+
+"Right. But, of course, that doesn't tell you anything you didn't know
+before."
+
+"But what about their potentials, their capabilities? They're
+_human_--in the sense that they're exact duplicates of humans--and they
+_live_, but what about emotions? If we accept the somewhat unscientific
+theory that it's a soul which is responsible for feelings and emotions,
+these ... these ... creatures would be handicapped." Brent paused as if
+uncertain of his ground. "Wouldn't they?" he asked lamely. "I mean, they
+couldn't--theoretically, at least--react to situations ... or other
+people's emotions."
+
+Doctor Entman nodded his head and murmured, "I would be inclined to
+agree. Except that we're obviously dealing with superior
+intelligence--I'm speaking about the "people" responsible for these
+androids--and we have no idea how far they might have progressed in
+duplicating that indefinable something we call a soul."
+
+For a moment he lapsed into silence. Then looked up at Brent abruptly.
+"Have you read anything on Kendrick's experiments with synthetic
+emotion?"
+
+"Can't say that I have."
+
+"Kendrick, down at Penton Technological Institute, has done some
+remarkable things in drawing the stuff of human emotion from one person,
+holding it on a tape, and transferring it to another person."
+
+"On the face of it, that sounds ridiculous."
+
+"Doesn't it? Nevertheless, the vibrations set up, or created you might
+say, by a person in anger, consist of some sort of _stuff_--in the sense
+of an incredibly high frequency wave. Radio or television waves are the
+best comparisons.
+
+"Kendrick, in one demonstration, took a young man who was very much in
+love with a certain young lady. A really love-sick lad. He placed him in
+the recording unit gave him the young lady's picture, and told him to
+let his mind dwell on her to the exclusion of all else."
+
+Doctor Entman smiled briefly. "This, I imagine, wasn't difficult for the
+lad to do. Entman then put another young man, one who was unacquainted
+with the girl, into a receiving unit and exposed him, after giving him
+the girl's picture, to the vibrations created by the lovelorn chap.
+Later, they saw to it that the second lad was introduced to the girl.
+The results were rather startling, in that the young lady suddenly had
+two ardent suitors in place of one."
+
+Brent Taber scratched his ear and looked dubious. "That sounds pretty
+sensational. But maybe the second lad just plain happened to fall in
+love with the girl by natural processes."
+
+"True, but the experiments tended to eliminate that possibility. Other
+emotions were tested. How about a man walking up to a man he'd never
+seen before in his life and busting him in the nose?"
+
+"Okay, okay. Then you think--"
+
+"I think a lot of things. Here, I see the possibility of a race with
+superior science, having moved far ahead of us in the directions
+Kendrick is pointing toward in his research. For instance, with more
+advanced knowledge and know-how, they've probably been able to charge a
+synthetic body with a complete set of functioning emotional responses.
+Grant them that and we can also concede a tailor-made ego."
+
+"I don't mind admitting I'm scared, Doctor," Brent Taber said.
+
+"I think it's a time to be scared."
+
+"But if a race of people were that advanced, if their intention is
+hostile, why do they pussyfoot around this way? Why don't they just come
+down and take us over?"
+
+"I've wondered that, too. And yet, a race on some planet out there in
+the universe might not evolve according to what we consider a logical
+pattern."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that while they can create a synthetic man, their interests, and
+therefore their progress, may have stayed in peaceful channels. For
+instance, they may not have bothered with anything as elementary as the
+atom bomb."
+
+"It's a thought."
+
+"A wishful thought, I'll admit. But it does have some validity. Also, it
+has a fact of some possible value to back it up."
+
+"What fact?"
+
+"That they _haven't_ come down and taken us over."
+
+"You almost cheer me, Doctor. Almost, but not quite."
+
+"Actually," Entman said, "I've been wondering about something else."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"When and how they came here before."
+
+"You mean, where did they get the model for the ten androids?"
+
+"Yes. They had to have not only a model, but also some knowledge
+concerning our geographical and atmospheric conditions. The two hearts
+indicate that they knew the elements contained in our air--the pressures
+and so forth necessary to our existence--and were unable to construct a
+working model that would function under our conditions with a single
+heart. So they put in two."
+
+"It looks as though they missed on some other things, too. Seven of the
+androids have expired."
+
+Entman shrugged. "Still--a remarkable job, particularly since they would
+have no chance for a trial-and-error test under the conditions that
+would prevail. It's surprising that _any_ of the androids were able to
+keep functioning."
+
+"The eighth one is pretty sick. He may be gone by now. And about their
+earlier coming, I can give you one point. They came quietly, probably at
+night, grabbed their model, and moved out fast."
+
+"How do you know that?"
+
+"Because, obviously, they think all men on earth look alike. Or, at
+least, we can assume that. Else how did they expect to get away with ten
+identical androids?"
+
+Entman's eyes widened. "I never thought of that," he muttered.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Senator Crane, a doggedly determined man, had listened to the replay of
+Brent Taber's top-secret conference again and again. In the comfortable
+rationalization of which he was capable, his whole zeal and hostility
+were fashioned around Brent's "arrogant disregard of democratic
+processes." Who did this bureaucrat think he was? Did he consider
+himself smarter than the People? Did he feel they couldn't be trusted
+with revelations affecting their survival? Well, by God, they'd been
+trusted with word of the bomb and its implications, and they'd reacted
+admirably. So they were entitled to frankness concerning this new threat
+to their security.
+
+Of course, Senator Crane reserved the right to enlighten them in his own
+time and in his own way. After all, hadn't they elected him and thus
+given him leeway to use his own judgment in their best interests?
+
+But who the hell had elected Brent Taber?
+
+Nobody.
+
+So Crane listened to the recording and picked out what he classified as
+the key lines.
+
+     _A routine autopsy revealed some peculiar things ... The man had
+     two hearts...._
+
+     _The blood? Could it have been a new kind of plasma?..._
+
+     _All in all, gentlemen, eight identical specimens have been picked
+     up in various American cities ...
+
+     Exactly alike...._
+
+
+Crane ran through the rest of it and threw himself moodily into a chair.
+The idiots! The stupid unelected, self-appointed guardians of democracy!
+Not once--not _once_, mind you--had a single one of these great brains
+referred to the obvious.
+
+It was a Russian plot!
+
+All those allusions to the extraterrestrial was so much bilge. The
+Russians were infiltrating the country with synthetic men. This
+meant--oh, God--it meant that in a short time Russia would be able to
+create an army of these monsters and overwhelm the world.
+
+Senator Crane sprang to his feet and measured his indignation in long
+strides across the thick, expensive carpeting on his floor. The
+traitor! The sheer, compulsive opportunist! That was certainly all that
+Brent Taber could be called. Using this deadly situation as a means of
+furthering his own interests.
+
+Senator Crane deliberately stilled his rage and objectively considered
+what he should do about it. With the obvious source of the androids
+logically deduced, there was only his own defensive procedures to be
+considered. And they had to be considered carefully. As he saw himself,
+he stood alone, against a group of bumbling idiots, with the future of
+the nation at stake. What to do?
+
+The key question, of course, was: How soon will Russia be able to mount
+an army? Probably not very soon, he decided. That fact gave him time to
+ferret out more information; to become completely sure of himself.
+
+One thing you had to realize about the American public--or about any
+mass of humanity, for that matter--a thing of importance had to be
+presented dramatically. This, in a sense, was the duty of the elected
+public servant--to recognize this somewhat childish failing of the
+average intelligence and make allowances for it. _You can do this, of
+course_, Senator Crane told himself, _when you love the people_.
+
+And, fortunately for their survival, Senator Crane loved the American
+people.
+
+So, for a few moments, he o'erleaped the hard work ahead and saw the
+goal--envisioned the headlines:
+
+     SENATOR CRANE UNCOVERS DEADLY PERIL TO THE NATION
+
+     Due entirely to the patriotic, selfless efforts of one United
+     States Senator, the nation has been warned in time of....
+
+     SENATOR CRANE STUNS CONGRESS AND THE NATION WITH HIS REVELATIONS
+
+     Standing alone on the rostrum, a heroic figure pitted, as it were,
+     against all the sinister forces that bore from within, one valiant
+     United States Senator....
+
+Crane had dropped back into his chair. His eyes had closed, the better
+to visualize a grateful nation expending their plaudits.
+
+And because he was a man who used a great deal of energy in pursuing an
+objective, he tired at times. He became drowsy now....
+
+... And went gently to sleep.
+
+
+
+
+5
+
+
+"Doctor Corson. Calling Doctor Corson. Please come to the second-floor
+reception room."
+
+Frank Corson got the call as he was leaving the maternity ward. He took
+the elevator down and found a rather sloppily dressed, middle-aged man
+sitting on a lounge beside a weather-beaten camera that tended to mark
+his profession.
+
+"I'm Les King, a free-lance news photographer. You're Doctor Corson?"
+
+Frank Corson's reaction was slightly hostile. He wondered why. "I'm
+Doctor Corson."
+
+"I'm on the trail of a patient that came here late last night. Name,
+William Matson. They tell me he was your patient."
+
+Frank nodded briefly.
+
+"They say he was released."
+
+"That's right."
+
+"A little over an hour ago."
+
+"Right."
+
+"They say he had a broken leg."
+
+"If that's what they said, it must be a matter of record."
+
+"Well, they're wrong on both counts. He came to see me over three hours
+ago--and both his legs were as good as mine."
+
+Frank Corson did not volunteer the information that he had personally
+taken William Matson to his furnished room in Greenwich Village and that
+Matson was there at this very moment, awaiting Frank's return.
+
+"I think there must be some mistake on your part," Frank said.
+
+"No mistake. But something very definitely got crossed up. Maybe we
+ought to have a little talk--the two of us."
+
+Anger stirred in Frank Corson. Did this Les King character think a
+beaten-up camera gave him the right to walk in and make demands. "I'm
+busy now. And I can't see what we'd have to talk about."
+
+"A hell of a lot, maybe. There are some things you may not know about
+this deal. You might have let a big thing slip through your fingers."
+
+"Look here, I'm not interested in anything you've got to say. And I
+think you've got a hell of a nerve, coming in here and cross-examining
+me on something that's--"
+
+King reacted with weary patience. "Take it easy. I'm just trying to get
+some information that can help both of us, maybe."
+
+"How could it possibly help me?"
+
+"To make it simple, there's a standing ten-thousand-dollar reward for
+knowledge of the whereabouts of a Judge Sam Baker who disappeared ten
+years ago from a little upstate New York town. Now, if you aren't
+interested--"
+
+"Are you telling me that William Matson is Sam Baker?"
+
+"Let's say a hell of a lot indicates it. Matson left here without giving
+a home address. If you know what it is, we can do business. If you
+don't--"
+
+"I'm off duty in an hour," Frank Corson said. "Maybe we should talk it
+over."
+
+"That's better. In the meantime, if you'll tell me where I can find
+Matson--"
+
+Frank smiled. "Wait an hour. Then I'll show you. But we'll talk about it
+first."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The tenth android, one of the two so earnestly sought after by Brent
+Taber, had observed the accident at 59th Street and Park Avenue on the
+previous night. He'd stood on the curb, lost in the crowd that gathered,
+and had watched the proceedings carefully. A man who was not a man, a
+machine that was not a machine, he incorporated, in many respects, the
+best qualities of both. Now, as the leader of the group deposited from
+space for a specific purpose, he exhibited these qualities excellently.
+
+He waited. He observed. He added the accident to the several other
+unforeseen incidents that endangered the project and its objective, and
+stored them in his memory-bank.
+
+He watched the minor drama as it unfolded, and what was somewhat akin to
+a danger bell went off in his mind when he saw a bright flash, traced
+its source to a camera, and carefully studied the man who had taken the
+picture. Pictures, he knew, could be dangerous. He must get his hands on
+the picture, if possible.
+
+He waited. He observed. He evaluated. The situation had gotten somewhat
+out of his control, but he did not blame himself for this. Certain
+emotions had been made a part of his being, but guilt, a useless one,
+had been omitted, as had been any ability to react to love, compassion,
+anger or hatred.
+
+So, with no hope of reward or fear of punishment, he had recorded the
+facts that he had been unable to communicate telepathically with eight
+of the units under his command and that, therefore, they were no longer
+operational. He had no way of knowing what had happened to them. This,
+however, did not make his work one bit less vital. Even though eight
+units were unaccounted for, his intelligent handling of the ninth
+android, and of himself, was still vitally important. It was up to him
+to see that the project was brought to a successful conclusion.
+
+He watched as the ambulance came, noted the name of the hospital, and
+recorded the proceedings. But he allowed the ambulance to drive away,
+keeping his attention pointed at the man who had taken the picture.
+
+When the man moved off down the street, the tenth android followed. When
+the man entered Central Park, he was observed from a discreet distance.
+When he came out again, he was followed into Times Square, down into
+Greenwich Village, back uptown and, finally, to an apartment building in
+the West Seventies. There he was observed opening a mailbox, and the
+name thereon was duly recorded.
+
+At this point, temporarily entrusting King to destiny, the tenth android
+took a taxicab to the Park Hill Hospital where he entered, went to the
+desk, and inquired about a friend of his, a William Matson.
+
+He was directed to Emergency where a nurse, after checking a record
+sheet on her piled-up desk, told him that Doctor Corson was with the
+patient in Ward Five. Unaware that he had been extremely lucky, that
+very few real people--people with only one heart, and a soul to go with
+it--would have gotten such specific information out of a receiving-desk
+nurse, the tenth android began counting wards until he came to the one
+marked Five.
+
+He looked in through the small window in the swinging door and saw his
+counterpart in bed, a white-coated man bending over him.
+
+That made the ninth android unapproachable, so his counterpart-leader
+withdrew to the end of the corridor and waited until Doctor Corson came
+out. He followed Corson outside and, from the back seat of another taxi,
+never lost sight of the convertible until Rhoda Kane drove it into the
+garage under her apartment building. From the street, the tenth android
+saw Rhoda and Frank enter the elevator. As soon as the door closed, he
+was in the outer lobby, watching as the numbers progressed upward on the
+elevator dial. The hand stopped at 21. This was noted and recorded,
+after which the tenth android called a finish to the night's activities
+and retired to the small room he'd rented on a quiet street on the Lower
+East Side where, if you bothered no one, no one would bother you.
+
+He was back the next morning, however, and that's when his unavoidable
+contact with Frank Corson on the sidewalk was made. He noted the
+surprise on Corson's face, but the logical situation did not develop
+because Corson did not make an issue of the meeting. He allowed the
+tenth android to go on his way.
+
+A nonsynthetic man would have wondered at this and thanked his own good
+luck. Not so with the android. He knew nothing whatever about luck. He
+accepted this bit of good fortune in exactly the same manner he would
+have faced its opposite, and when Frank Corson boarded a bus, a taxicab
+pulled out of a side street and followed.
+
+The cab waited, in front of the Park Hill Hospital. When Frank Corson
+and the ninth android emerged, two cabs, not one, wheeled down Manhattan
+and into Greenwich Village.
+
+Thus it was that some ten minutes after Frank Corson went back to his
+duties at the Park Hill Hospital, there was a knock on the door of his
+room in Greenwich Village. The ninth android opened the door. The tenth
+android entered. The ninth android hobbled back to his chair and waited
+quietly.
+
+The tenth android looked both ways in the corridor and then closed the
+door. He walked to the chair and stood looking down. He turned his eyes
+to the bulky, cast-encased leg. "It will not heal," he stated
+matter-of-factly.
+
+The ninth android nodded. "I--know."
+
+"That makes you useless."
+
+Another nod. "Why couldn't they have made it possible for our flesh and
+bone to become whole again after an--accident?"
+
+"That wasn't possible."
+
+The tenth android went to a tiny curtained-off kitchenette and returned
+with a knife. He put his hand on the head of the ninth android and drew
+it backward so that the neck muscles were taut. He raised the knife.
+
+Then he paused and looked down with a faint expression of interest in
+his otherwise empty eyes. "Are you afraid to die?"
+
+"I don't--know. What is it to--die?"
+
+"You become nonfunctioning."
+
+"I think I would rather not become nonfunctioning."
+
+The tenth android cut the ninth android's throat. Carefully and cleanly,
+he severed the big artery that carried the blood-fluid back down to the
+upper heart.
+
+The blood-fluid spouted out and drained down over the chest of the ninth
+android. He shuddered. His eyes closed. When the tenth android released
+his grip, the head fell forward.
+
+And from somewhere in the synthetically created mind of the tenth
+android there came a question: Was it undesirable to become
+nonfunctioning? The human was afraid to die. He sensed this but not the
+reason for it, if there was one. The human was afraid to die.
+
+He wondered only momentarily, vaguely recorded it as a mistake to wonder
+about such things, and then crossed the room and put the red-stained
+knife into the sink.
+
+After that, he let himself quietly out of the apartment and walked off
+down the street.
+
+He had much to do. He had to leave town and finish the project alone.
+
+Then, quite suddenly, he stopped, stepped into a nearby doorway and
+stood motionless. There was no change in his expression except that
+possibly his eyes became a shade emptier.
+
+After a while he left the doorway and moved on. But it was with new
+purpose and with new plans.
+
+The new orders, relayed across a light-year of space, were not
+intercepted by any terrestrial receiving device, however sensitive. But
+they were received and recorded perfectly in the mind of the tenth
+android.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frank Corson and Les King sat in a coffee shop and regarded each other
+with a certain wariness. "It's like this, at least from where I sit,"
+King said. "About ten years ago a small-town judge named Sam Baker--"
+
+"You told me that," Corson cut in impatiently. "Baker was supposed to
+have been drowned, but they never found the body. Now, you think William
+Matson is Sam Baker?"
+
+King pondered the question morosely. "I've got every right to think so.
+But Baker would have aged some in ten years. The man I saw--"
+
+"The man you saw didn't have a broken leg. I must have seen the same one
+when I--"
+
+King was instantly alert. When you were on the trail of ten grand you
+had to be alert, and suspicious of comparative strangers.
+
+"You saw someone who looked like Baker and Matson? A guy without a
+broken leg?"
+
+"I was leaving an apartment building on the Upper East Side this
+morning. I met him in the street."
+
+"You didn't tell me that."
+
+"I'm telling you now."
+
+King scowled. "I don't get it. You were the doctor. You left a man with
+a broken leg in bed in a hospital. You saw a man who looked like--"
+
+"I saw the same man, goddamn it!"
+
+"All right--the same man. And you didn't do anything about it? You
+didn't say _Good morning_ or _It might rain_ or _What the hell are you
+doing out of bed?_ You just let him walk away?"
+
+"You're being unreasonable. When you come face to face with something
+that's impossible, you don't treat it as a fact. It throws you off
+balance."
+
+King continued to scowl. "We're not getting anywhere. Let's face it. It
+_was_ impossible. Let's get the hell up to your room and talk to William
+Matson."
+
+"All right."
+
+Frank Corson came half out of his chair, then he dropped back again. "I
+don't like this," he said.
+
+"What's to like? What's to dislike? For ten thousand dollars we can
+ignore both."
+
+"I have a feeling we're getting into something beyond our depth."
+
+"Okay, then let me handle it. I'll see that you get your cut."
+
+"Not so fast," Corson said sharply. "I didn't say I was backing out. I
+just said this might be bigger than we bargain for."
+
+"I don't think that's quite it," King replied coldly. "I think you don't
+trust me."
+
+"Maybe that's it. I don't think you trust me, either."
+
+"Ten thousand _is_ a lot of money. But we're not going to get it by
+sitting in a coffee shop arguing over it."
+
+"I guess you're right."
+
+"Then let's go."
+
+They left the coffee shop and, as they walked the four blocks that
+separated them from the room where he was ashamed to take Rhoda Kane,
+Frank Corson analyzed his own mood and attitude. He decided it wasn't
+that he mistrusted King, or that he actually thought the deal had any
+frightening elements in it. In plain truth, he was ashamed of himself.
+Somehow, in his own mind, he was degrading his profession. His love of
+Rhoda Kane, his need of money, his impatience with time and
+circumstance, had forced him into what seemed like a cheap intrigue.
+There was, somehow, a bad taste to the whole thing.
+
+But it was too late to back out now. And what the hell! If there was ten
+thousand dollars lying around, why shouldn't he get a piece of it? What
+was wrong with that? He unlocked the door to his room.
+
+He took a step forward and stopped, blocking the entrance.
+
+"Oh, my God!"
+
+Les King pushed through. His eyes widened, but that was his only
+reaction. Then his camera swung up into position. The bulb flashed. He
+lowered the camera.
+
+"Somebody cut the bastard's throat!" he marveled.
+
+Frank Corson moved forward. "Good lord! It looks as though he just sat
+there and let himself be murdered."
+
+"Suicide maybe?"
+
+"No knife close enough. It's over there in the sink."
+
+"Well, he didn't cut his own throat and then walk back here."
+
+Frank Corson had been studying the wound. He pressed his fingers against
+the crimson shirt front and rubbed them together, testing the feel of
+the blood with his thumb.
+
+"What's wrong?" King asked.
+
+"I don't know. That's an odd color for coagulating blood. It doesn't
+feel right, either."
+
+"Do you think he was sick?"
+
+"There's just something crazy about this whole thing. The man had two
+hearts."
+
+King was both amazed and angered. "What the hell are you talking
+about?"
+
+"I didn't get a chance to tell you. This man was a freak. I found it out
+last night. He had two hearts. I'm sure of it."
+
+"No chance to tell me? Why, goddamn it, we sat in that coffee shop for
+half an hour while I leveled with you. No chance! You held out on me."
+King laughed cynically. "I guess that's human nature. With a couple of
+bucks at stake even honest men go cagey."
+
+Corson ignored the jibe. "Listen, for Christ sake! This is murder! Can't
+you understand that?"
+
+"Of course, it's murder--in your room, with your knife. You'll have some
+explaining to do."
+
+King's face hardened. He became subtly remote, impersonal. His eyes
+turned cold as he began inserting flash-bulbs into his camera and
+snapping the room and the body from various angles.
+
+Frank Corson, out of his depth for sure now, stood helpless. Les King
+looked up from his work. "Well, don't just stand there, Doctor. You've
+got a murder to report. Get with it."
+
+As Corson turned helplessly toward the door, King grinned faintly. "Me,
+I'm just a free-lance photographer trying to make an honest buck."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brent Taber stared icily down at Frank Corson and Les King. They looked
+up at him sullenly, looming over them as he did, from the position of
+authority. A little like two schoolboys being punished by the principal,
+they lowered their eyes. Defiantly, each told himself that he was a free
+citizen and didn't have to take this from Taber, even if he did
+represent governmental authority.
+
+Still, they sat and took it.
+
+"Of course," Taber said, "you have the universal alibi. You didn't know
+how serious this thing was. So far as you were concerned, you'd located
+a man with a reward on his head." He shook his head deprecatingly. "If
+we hadn't sent out a top-secret bulletin to all the big-city police
+chiefs to be on the lookout for this guy you'd have had it spread in
+some tabloid."
+
+"A person has a right to make a buck," King said stubbornly.
+
+"Oh, sure. Again the universal defense. Make the buck first and then
+think about your patriotic duty."
+
+"Patriotic duty, hell! There wasn't any as far as I was concerned. When
+I found out about that--What the hell did you call him? The android?--he
+was already dead."
+
+"And you'll do very well with the pictures you took."
+
+"They're my pictures."
+
+"The hell they are. We're confiscating them and you'll keep your mouth
+shut about this."
+
+"Then the people haven't got a right to know--"
+
+"Damn the people!" Brent snarled, and wished instantly that he hadn't
+said it. He didn't mean it, of course. He'd just been pressed too hard.
+In a sense, he was taking his own frustrations out on these two because
+they were handy.
+
+And yet, damn it all, he was right! Nobody gave a hoot for the welfare
+of the country!
+
+"You," he said, turning on Frank Corson. "In the course of your duty as
+a doctor, you came upon something very strange."
+
+"I wasn't sure!"
+
+"You found a man with two hearts. What should you have done as a doctor?
+Reported it through recognized channels. If you'd done that, do you
+realize we might have got word? We might have been able to act? We might
+have saved that creature's life. That may well have been the difference
+between life and death for this country. For this planet."
+
+"Are you sure you're not exaggerating things a little?" King asked the
+question and lit a cigarette as his self-confidence began to return.
+"Isn't the whole thing pretty far-fetched?"
+
+Brent held his temper. "I suppose you have every right to assume we
+aren't really sure ourselves. But please listen to me now and give me
+the benefit of the doubt. We have reason to believe that these
+creatures--there have been others--are a menace to our survival. We're
+also pretty sure that there's another one roaming around. It's my
+opinion that the last one, the tenth one, may have had something to do
+with what happened in Dr. Corson's room. I don't know whether your lives
+are in danger or not, but _please_ co-operate with us. Please report
+immediately anything of a suspicious nature that you see."
+
+"Of course, we will," Frank Corson said. "I didn't see any signs of
+hostility in the other one, though."
+
+"Be that as it may, we _must_ get our hands on him."
+
+"If he did kill the one with the broken leg," King said, "wouldn't he
+have left town?"
+
+"If he thinks like a murderer, yes. But he probably doesn't. That's the
+trouble. We don't know how he thinks or what he's here for. We're
+playing it by ear."
+
+"I think we understand," Frank Corson said.
+
+"Thank you. And I'm sorry if I antagonized you. That wasn't my purpose.
+I'm just trying to do my job." He smiled and held out his hand. "This is
+all strictly confidential, of course."
+
+"Of course."
+
+"Thanks for coming."
+
+They left, but Brent Taber's frustrations remained with him. Earlier
+that day, in Washington, he'd stood on the carpet himself, before higher
+authority, and played the part of the reprimanded schoolboy.
+
+"It would appear," Authority said, "that you went out of your way to
+antagonize Senator Crane."
+
+"I'm sorry if that's the opinion up above."
+
+"It is not a matter of opinion, one way or another. It's a matter of
+expediency. The Administration has to get along with Congress. Senator
+Crane is in a powerful position. He is on three committees that can
+hamper legislation the Administration is vitally interested in."
+
+"I understand. And I didn't pick the quarrel with Senator Crane. He
+picked it with me. In my judgment, he is not the kind of person to be
+trusted with information of this vital nature."
+
+"You consider Senator Crane an unreliable demagogue?"
+
+"I didn't say that."
+
+Authority smiled wryly. "I'll concede that the Senator's type is rare in
+American politics--at least among those who get elected to high office.
+But the fact remains--he is a power."
+
+"If you agree that the information should have been withheld--"
+
+"I didn't agree on that at all," Authority said quickly. "And don't
+quote me as having said so. I'll deny it."
+
+Brent Taber smiled also, but inwardly, where it wouldn't show. He should
+have expected that denial. After all, Authority had Higher Authority to
+account to. Authority could also be put on the carpet. There was always
+Someone higher up.
+
+"I'm sorry," Brent Taber said. "I was put in charge of this project and
+I used my judgment--"
+
+"We are not questioning your over-all judgment," Authority assured him.
+
+_Then what in the hell are you gabbling about?_ This question was also
+asked inwardly as Brent said, "I felt the gravity of the situation
+merited extreme care."
+
+"It does. But life must go on. The government must still function."
+
+_That's right, play it from both ends_, Brent Taber thought bitterly.
+_Ride the fence. Stay in a position to jump either way._
+
+"What do you wish me to do about Senator Crane?"
+
+"I'd stay out of his way if I were you."
+
+"Whatever damage you say I have done can be corrected with a ten-minute
+briefing."
+
+"That's up to you," Authority answered nimbly. "As you say, you've been
+put in charge of the project."
+
+"Then I'll leave things as they are."
+
+"Very well. I just wanted to go on record."
+
+"Thank you," Brent Taber said. "Thank you very much."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frank Corson and Les King walked north together after their interview
+with Brent Taber.
+
+"I guess we got off lucky," King said. "Those Washington appointees can
+be tough."
+
+"He seems to have a pretty tough job."
+
+"They all think they've got tough jobs."
+
+"It's still a murder as far as the New York police are concerned. What
+do you think will happen?"
+
+"They turned us over to Taber, didn't they?" King asked. "That shows how
+they're playing it. The New York cops have enough murders to worry
+about. They like to pass them on to somebody else."
+
+"Then they won't question us any further?"
+
+King shrugged. "Who knows? You've got nothing to worry about, though.
+Just sit tight. In fact, you're damned lucky."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"This killing is under wraps. Nobody's talking. That means you won't get
+in trouble at the hospital." King grinned. "Your _ethics_ won't come
+under scrutiny."
+
+Frank Corson flushed and said nothing. King, after a moment's silence,
+said, "I've been thinking about that tenth android."
+
+"Do you think there's as much danger in this thing as Taber says?"
+
+King shrugged. "Those guys always think that way. Remember what they
+said about the atom bomb? The world was doomed. We were going to blow
+each other up. But nobody's been heaving them around. The
+view-with-alarm boys always talk that way."
+
+"I hope you're right."
+
+"But about that android that's supposed to be walking around loose."
+
+"What about him?"
+
+"Those bastards confiscated all my stuff. The shots I made in your
+room--everything. But if I could get some shots of the other one--"
+
+"You're actually going to work on your own? In spite of what Taber
+said?"
+
+"It's a free country," King retorted hotly. "I've got a right to follow
+my profession. What I was going to say was that you're in a position to
+help yourself a little, too."
+
+"I am?"
+
+"Only you and I know what we're looking for. If you spot the android,
+see him hanging around anywhere, and let me know, I'll--"
+
+"You can go to hell, King. I want no part of any more of your ideas.
+I've had it. If I see the creature I'll call Taber and nobody else. I'm
+going to do exactly what he told me to do. Mark me off your list."
+
+Frank Corson strode away. Les King stood watching him. King shrugged.
+Just another bewildered citizen who thought God lived in Washington.
+Afraid to spit if some Washington bureaucrat wagged a finger.
+
+Well, the hell with Corson. The hell with Taber. The hell with all of
+them. If Les King stood to make an honest buck, he was going to do his
+damnedest until somebody passed a law making it illegal.
+
+
+
+
+6
+
+
+Brent Taber was drawn to Doctor Entman. He found, in the ugly little
+scientist, a rapport that seemed to exist nowhere else. At the moment,
+Entman was having a fine, stimulating time dissecting the cadaver of the
+android. His ugly little eyes were bright. "It's a miracle, my friend! A
+positive miracle. The thing these people have been able to do!"
+
+"People? You've used that word before."
+
+Entman waved an impatient hand. "Oh, don't quibble! Why, the creation of
+an artificial digestive system alone is awesome--not to mention the
+creation of a synthetic brain."
+
+"The brain is what interests me."
+
+"I can hardly wait to get into that area. Certain aspects are obvious,
+though. These creatures must have mental powers far beyond ours--in
+certain areas, that is."
+
+"Tell me more."
+
+"That's merely a matter of logic. We know that _homo sapiens_--because
+of his free choice, so to speak--uses, on an average, not more than a
+tenth of his mental ability. All right. These people have created, to
+all intents and purposes, a man. They surely had sense enough to remove
+the free-choice element. The creature surely has judgment, even cunning,
+but it is no doubt pointed totally and completely toward the objective
+of its being."
+
+"Whatever the hell that objective is!"
+
+Entman was mildly surprised by Taber's exclamation. He held up a warning
+finger. "Nerves, boy, nerves. You must watch that. As to the
+objective--I'm sure it's something pointed at our destruction."
+
+"What powers were you referring to?"
+
+"Hypnotism, I should think. Any of the mental processes through which
+one human being strives to assert control over another. We are aware of
+several of these. They may have found others."
+
+"You won't be able to define them by cutting up that brain?"
+
+"I doubt it. We could know them only by watching one of the creatures in
+action." Entman sighed. "If we only had other facts."
+
+"What facts?"
+
+Entman's smile was almost patronizing. "You're tired, aren't you, son?
+You're not thinking very well."
+
+"Goddamn it! Quit treating me like a cretin!"
+
+"Temper, temper! Look at it analytically, son, analytically. Suppose we
+knew who these people are. What distances have they covered in arriving
+here? What is their method of conveyance?"
+
+"The distance? Light years, I would assume. The conveyance? A spaceship,
+or a projectile along basic lines but farther advanced."
+
+"All right. We know they've sent ten creatures to our planet from
+infinity--that's as good a word to use as any. The next question is,
+why?"
+
+"Damnit, that question is obvious."
+
+"And from my point of view, the answer is obvious."
+
+"Then I wish to hell you'd give it to me."
+
+"Logic, man, logic! A race as far advanced as this one could certainly
+move in and occupy us without trouble. Wouldn't you think?"
+
+"Certainly. That's what bothers me. Why all the pussy-footing around
+with synthetic men who keep dropping dead?"
+
+"I think it's because they themselves are unable to exist in the
+climatic and atmospheric conditions existent on our planet."
+
+Brent Taber's eyes opened as Entman went on. "They plan to occupy us,
+certainly--this we must assume--so they're trying to create an entity
+through which they can do it. The process is really no different, even
+though a little more dramatic, than our science creating a mechanical
+unit that functions to the best efficiency under specified conditions."
+
+Taber's finger snapped up. He pointed at Entman's desk. "They'd like to
+know why their androids died. Maybe they weren't alike--at least, not
+exactly alike. Maybe there were differences you haven't found yet--maybe
+they turned out ten models and they want to know which one worked the
+best."
+
+"You get the point," Entman beamed.
+
+"They'd like the data you're assembling--those reports you've got in
+front of you."
+
+"I imagine they'd find them quite interesting."
+
+"Do you think we can assume the tenth android died also?"
+
+"Perhaps. We have no proof that it killed the one found slain in
+Greenwich Village."
+
+"I'm satisfied to assume that. But I'm wondering just what contact those
+'people,' as you call them, had with their androids. Could a part of the
+brain have been a sending and receiving device?"
+
+"It would be difficult to tell. I delved in far enough to find a
+mechanical device, if there had been one. It did not exist in those I
+dissected. There is another possibility though, except that we often
+make the mistake of assuming that what we humans on earth can't do,
+can't be done. Consider telepathy. Who's to say they were not made
+capable of communicating in that way--at whatever distance?" He paused
+for a moment, deep in thought, before going on. "Has it occurred to you
+that the tenth android might be a supervisor, the boss, the captain? If
+he is still alive, why haven't you found him? You have the men and
+facilities at your command."
+
+Brent Taber sprang to his feet. "Doctor," he answered, scowling, "Did
+you ever hear of a project so secret that it couldn't even be given
+enough personnel to make it work?"
+
+Entman smiled sympathetically. "Washington is a strange place in some
+ways, son. Usually it's the other way around. You get so much help they
+get in each other's way. I'm glad I'm not involved in those phases of
+it."
+
+Brent paced the floor, occupied with his own thoughts. It was more than
+mere frustration. It went deeper. There was his resentment of the
+dressing-down he'd taken from Authority; the subtle coolness that had
+begun to permeate his relations with those upstairs.
+
+He jerked his mind away from such thoughts. Nerves. That was it. He was
+tense. He was imagining things. They were certainly too well aware of
+the gravity of this situation to let petty politics interfere.
+
+Or were they?
+
+"Okay, Doc," Brent said crisply. "Thanks for letting me pick your
+brain."
+
+"Good luck, son."
+
+Entman went back to his work and Taber left. As he walked down the
+corridor, he analyzed the cheerful tone of Entman's voice and told
+himself that even Entman didn't really believe it. Entman had the
+evidence before his eyes but he still couldn't get the concept of alien
+creatures from space really taking us over. It was too unbelievable.
+
+_Am I the only one who really believes it?_ He asked himself this
+question as he hailed a cab in the street and watched a fat man in a
+bowler hat slip in and take it away from him.
+
+"You're slipping, Taber," he muttered. "You're definitely slipping."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The bell rang. Rhoda Kane opened the door. The man standing there was
+not extraordinary in any way. He appeared just short of middle age. He
+wore a blue suit and a blue necktie. The word for him was _quiet_. He
+was a man who did not stand out.
+
+"My name is John Dennis," he said. "I would like to speak to you."
+
+The abrupt demand annoyed Rhoda. She frowned and was about to retort
+just as peremptorily, but an odd bemusement tempered her mood. The man
+was uncivil enough to be interesting. She said, "I'm busy now," but
+instead of closing the door, she stepped back into the room. The man
+came in and it was he who closed the door.
+
+"I don't wish to alarm you, Miss Kane."
+
+"I'm not in the least alarmed."
+
+As she spoke, Rhoda wondered if this was true. But the wondering itself
+was on such an impersonal basis that it didn't seem to make much
+difference.
+
+Also, she was noticing that John Dennis was not quite as he'd first
+appeared. He was much younger than middle-aged, really--somewhere in his
+thirties. He was quiet, yes, but handsome, too. There was a rugged
+individuality about him that was easily missed at first glance. A
+definite attractiveness.
+
+"I want to ask you about a friend of yours. Frank Corson."
+
+This seemed like a logical request. It definitely seemed that way but,
+at the same time, Rhoda was confused as to why it should appear to be. A
+man came and knocked on the door and entered and asked a question like
+that. It _shouldn't_ have been all right, but it was. He probably had
+the right, she told herself, else he would not have asked.
+
+"What do you wish to know?"
+
+"Tell me about him."
+
+"He is a doctor. Frank is an intern at Park Hill Hospital. After he
+finishes there he will go into practice. I guess that's about all there
+is to it."
+
+"He had a patient named William Matson."
+
+"William Matson? I don't know. He doesn't discuss his work with me."
+
+"This was a patient with a broken leg who was taken to the hospital
+night before last."
+
+"He did mention one man. I don't know his name, though. A man Frank said
+had two hearts."
+
+"What else did he tell you about this man?"
+
+"Nothing else. Frank had the case in Emergency. We came home--came
+here--and then Frank was bothered. He went back and examined the man and
+came out and said he had two hearts."
+
+"That was all he said?"
+
+"Nothing else."
+
+John Dennis looked around. Then, when Rhoda stirred and passed a hand
+quickly through her hair, he brought his eyes back to bear on hers.
+Rhoda lowered her hand.
+
+"Does Frank Corson live here?"
+
+"No. This is my home. Frank lives in the Village."
+
+"What Village?"
+
+"Greenwich Village. It's a part of New York. Are you a stranger?"
+
+John Dennis did not answer. "Why doesn't he live here with you?"
+
+"Why--why, we're not married. We are only engaged."
+
+"That means you will get married later?"
+
+"I hope to."
+
+"Does he hope to?"
+
+"Yes--I'm sure he does."
+
+"Then he will live here with you?"
+
+"I don't know. We may find another place."
+
+"What's wrong with this one?"
+
+"Why, nothing--nothing at all--"
+
+Such strange questions, Rhoda thought. Why was he asking them? No doubt
+he had a reason. It somehow did not occur to her to wonder why she was
+answering. Her own thoughts on the matter did not seem important.
+
+"He lives here with you sometimes, doesn't he?"
+
+"He stays over once in a while."
+
+"Why doesn't he stay over all the time?"
+
+"Because we're not married."
+
+"What do you do when he stays over?"
+
+"We--talk."
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"We make love."
+
+"How do you do that?"
+
+Rhoda hesitated for the first time. "We--haven't you ever made love?"
+
+His words came a little sharper. "How do you make love?"
+
+"We lie in each other's arms. We show affection for each other."
+
+"You lie in the same bed together?"
+
+"Yes. Of course."
+
+"If you were married, what would you do?"
+
+"I said--we would live together."
+
+"Would you make love?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Would you lie in the same bed together?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Is there anything you would do if you were married that you don't do
+now?"
+
+"Of course. We would live together. We would be man and wife. It would
+be--well, legal."
+
+"It is not legal to make love and lie in the same bed together now?"
+
+"No--well, yes--you see--"
+
+He was joking, of course. Rhoda was sure of this. She wanted to explain
+it all to him but he suddenly lost interest.
+
+"Frank Corson knew nothing else about William Matson?"
+
+"The man with two hearts?"
+
+"Only that?"
+
+"It was all he told me."
+
+"I think he knows more. I want you to ask him. Then I will come and ask
+you."
+
+"I'll ask him if he knows anything more than what he told me."
+
+"Ask him if he knows of any other men with two hearts. I want to know
+where they are and what happened to them."
+
+"I'll try to find out."
+
+"You _must_ find out."
+
+"Will you come back soon?"
+
+"I will come back. You must do as I tell you."
+
+"I will do as you tell me."
+
+John Dennis had been sitting by the window so that Rhoda had to stare
+into the light. He got up and approached her. She stood up and waited
+for him, motionless. He came close and looked at her curiously. His eyes
+went up and down her body. He laid a hand on her left breast and pressed
+gently. She did not move.
+
+"I will come back. You will not tell anyone I have been here or that we
+talked." He left without saying good-bye.
+
+After he was gone, Rhoda stood where she was, motionless, for several
+minutes. Her mind was on the place he had touched her. She had never
+before experienced such a reaction. Never before had a man's hand, even
+on her bare flesh, produced such thrill and excitement. Desperately, her
+common sense struggled with this new thing. She dismissed with annoyance
+the callow, schoolgirl thought that this was the way love finally
+came--in the door, unannounced, to take over a woman's heart and soul
+and body. Ridiculous.
+
+The intellectual Rhoda agreed, but the emotional Rhoda continued to toy
+with the idea, finding it a fascination, a joy. But there was something
+more than the intellectual and the emotional; a deeper, frightening
+numbness; a strange paralysis of mind she could not come to grips with;
+it kept eluding her even as she reached out for it.
+
+Fear? She wondered.
+
+But mainly she thought of John Dennis, the strange man who had walked in
+her door and to whom she had surrendered without a struggle.
+
+_My God. What happened to me? What happened to Rhoda Kane?_
+
+Abruptly she dropped the thought--it did not seem important.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Senator Crane sat in the dining room of the Mayflower Hotel. His guest
+was Matthew Porter, a mystery man, also, of the Brent Taber type, but a
+little more clearly defined in that he had a title and a department of
+government. But far more important to Crane, he outranked Taber.
+
+One other point of importance: Matthew Porter was, in the terms even
+Senator Crane used, "something of a fathead."
+
+"Maybe I am a Senator," Crane said jovially, "and maybe we boys up there
+think we have a hand in directing you fellows--still I'm flattered that
+you could find time to lunch with me."
+
+Porter had a thin, aristocratic face, delicate features. His expression
+was usually benign, but there was steel behind it. He could scowl and
+hurl righteous invective, for instance, when a policeman questioned his
+right to park by a fireplug in spite of his official license plates.
+
+But mainly he was a shy person who nursed his inferiority complex in
+secret.
+
+"That's very flattering, Senator. But the truth is quite the opposite.
+It's we fellows who are honored to put ourselves at your beck and call.
+After all, you're the ones the people elect to office."
+
+The flattery boomeranged nicely and put Porter one up on Crane.
+
+"The people must be served, of course," Crane said, "and that's one of
+the things I want to talk to you about. The people's interests."
+
+Matthew Porter cocked an alarmed eye as he bit into a roll. "Have their
+interests been violated?"
+
+Crane glanced around and lowered his voice. "There's been too much loose
+talk going around about that project you've got Brent Taber on."
+
+Porter laid the roll down very carefully, as though he feared it might
+go off. "I'm not sure I know what you're referring to, Senator."
+
+"Your reticence is quite understandable. That I bring it up at all must
+shock you, but--" Crane hesitated, a touch of sadness brushing across
+his face.
+
+"But what, Senator?"
+
+"You understand, certainly, that I hold the greatest respect for Brent
+Taber. That's why I hesitated to come to you."
+
+"It seems to me Halliday said something about calling Taber in.
+It had to do with a mild reprimand over Taber's attitude on
+legislative-executive relations."
+
+"Halliday?" Senator Crane asked innocently. "He's another of the really
+good men you picked for government service."
+
+"I trust Halliday implicitly, but he's carrying a big load so I'm glad
+you came directly to me, Senator. Exactly what is the trouble?"
+
+"In plain words, there have been some bad leaks out of Taber's office.
+There is in existence a taped recording of a meeting."
+
+Porter was aghast. He tried to hide it, which made his greenish
+expression all the more ludicrous--as though he'd swallowed a worm out
+of his salad.
+
+"Impossible."
+
+"You'd think so, with all the top-secret precautions that have been
+taken."
+
+"How did you discover this?"
+
+Crane held up a restraining hand. "I'd be happy to tell you if it would
+serve any purpose, but believe me, it wouldn't. I would only tend to
+eliminate a contact who is extremely loyal to me and--I might add--to
+good government."
+
+"I understand. But I certainly can't imagine what has happened to Taber.
+I would have backed him with my last dime."
+
+"I actually don't think it was Taber's fault. A man can't personally see
+to every detail in his department."
+
+"That's the responsibility of whoever is in charge."
+
+Crane sighed. "Yes, I guess that's a cold, hard fact of life in this
+time of danger. But don't be too hard on him. Perhaps there's an
+explanation."
+
+"He'll have his chance to explain," Porter said grimly.
+
+"I'm sure you understand how it pains me to have to--well, put this
+black mark on the record of a good man. I debated many hours and
+searched my soul before I came to you. With a man's career at stake--"
+
+"Men are expendable," Porter snapped. "The nation's safety is not."
+
+Again Crane glanced around. "Are the Russians _really_ that far ahead?"
+
+Porter's eyes narrowed just a shade. "The Russians? Did you listen to
+the tape you mentioned?"
+
+"Only sketchily. I assumed--"
+
+"The danger is far greater. A Senatorial committee was briefed on the
+thing. I honestly think you should have been on that committee,
+Senator. By coming to me you've done far more toward protecting the
+nation's safety--and that of the world--than have any of your
+colleagues."
+
+"Let's just say I had more opportunity."
+
+"Your modesty is becoming."
+
+"And now," Crane said wryly, "now that I've done all I can, I wish I
+could forget the whole thing. But with the gravity of the situation--"
+
+"I'll see that you get a complete briefing."
+
+"Thank you. And I promise I'll be most discreet."
+
+A little while later, on the way back to his office, Crane smiled. Now
+maybe that self-important little son-of-a-bitch, Taber, would find out
+what it meant to insult a United States Senator.
+
+From there, his mind went to another insult. So they'd passed him up in
+forming the committee to hear about the damned androids, had they? Well,
+by God, he'd show them the people of his state wouldn't tolerate that,
+either.
+
+The people back home were going to hear about their Senator.
+
+It probably wouldn't even be necessary to campaign next year.
+
+
+
+
+7
+
+
+"If you've changed your mind about anything--about us, maybe--just say
+so. I'll understand." Frank Corson felt he had to make this point--at
+this particular time. There was something inevitable in the need to do
+so.
+
+"You're being ridiculous. The old thing about money again," Rhoda
+parried.
+
+"There's nothing old about money. The problem is ever new. It's always
+with us."
+
+Rhoda Kane wanted to cry. She sat on the floor beside the sofa on which
+Frank Corson lay, his hands behind his head, his eyes staring up at the
+ceiling. She wanted to say, _Darling, what's happened to me? What is
+this thing inside me that keeps blocking me away from you? Why can't I
+tell you about it?_
+
+But she could not say this. She could only push the tears back and lay
+her head seductively on his chest. "You're just tired, dear. You've been
+working too hard."
+
+He ran his hand petulantly through her hair. "It isn't me. It's you,
+Rhoda. Half the time you don't even realize I'm talking to you. You're
+getting such a faraway look in your eyes I'm beginning to think there's
+another man."
+
+"That's silly," she said lightly. "Let me make you a drink."
+
+"I don't want a drink."
+
+The way he responded to her kiss indicated he didn't want to make love,
+either. Rhoda settled back to the floor and said, "Darling--"
+
+Suddenly she couldn't go on. Somewhere inside, a dam broke; the strange,
+bewildering block tottered and began to fall. "Darling--there's
+something I want to tell you--"
+
+Frank Corson indicated with a jerk of his head. "The phone's ringing."
+
+"Let it ring. Darling, I--"
+
+"For heaven's sake, answer it, Rhoda. It might be important."
+
+She got up, went to the phone and picked it up. "Hello."
+
+"This is John Dennis."
+
+She felt that frightening excitement again--that feeling of dangerous
+delight at something forbidden. "Yes?"
+
+"Do you remember what I told you to do?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Has it been done?"
+
+"Not yet."
+
+"Why have you not done it?"
+
+"I haven't had a chance."
+
+"You have a chance now. Frank Corson is in your home."
+
+"Yes. I have a chance now."
+
+The phone clicked. Rhoda put it down and went back to the sofa. As she
+sank to the floor, Frank Corson looked at her questioningly.
+
+"That was certainly a cryptic conversation."
+
+When Rhoda didn't answer, he scowled and snapped, "There you go again.
+Into the brown study."
+
+"Oh, I'm sorry, dear."
+
+"What was the phone call about?"
+
+"My hairdresser. It was nothing."
+
+"Weird conversation to have with a hairdresser."
+
+"He's a weird hairdresser."
+
+"What had you started to say when the phone rang?"
+
+"It just occurred to me--you never told me what happened when that
+government man talked to you."
+
+Frank wished she hadn't brought that up. He'd been ordered to keep the
+incident in his room strictly to himself. That hadn't been too
+difficult. It _had_ been hard not to look on the thing as a murder. The
+blood had looked real and so had the body.
+
+But if that was the way Brent Taber wanted it, all right. Frank was
+amazed at how smoothly everything had been handled. There hadn't even
+been a police car at the door--just an unmarked delivery truck and two
+men carrying out what might have been a rolled-up rug.
+
+And that had been that.
+
+"He didn't say much. Actually, there was no point in mentioning it to
+you."
+
+"What ever happened to the man with two hearts?"
+
+"I was wrong. He just had a peculiar heartbeat. As a matter of fact,
+everybody's heart beats all over their body. Nothing strange about
+that."
+
+"But there's something strange about a doctor not being able to tell the
+difference between one heart and two. Frank, you _are_ keeping something
+from me."
+
+"Rhoda! For heaven's sake! The government man told me to keep my mouth
+shut about it."
+
+"Does that mean you can't tell even me?"
+
+He turned his head and looked into her eyes. "This isn't like you,
+Rhoda. Not like you at all."
+
+"That's silly. I haven't changed."
+
+"Yes, you have."
+
+"How?"
+
+"It's hard to say. You don't seem to have the same sense of values any
+more. You've--"
+
+"Just how have they changed?"
+
+If he sensed any inner fright in her question he said nothing about it.
+"For instance, when I told you I'd given up all ideas of going into
+research, when I said I'd decided to finish out my internship and
+establish a practice, you hardly twitched an eyebrow. I thought that
+would make you happy."
+
+"It did, darling. I was delighted. But I'm still a woman and that gives
+me a right to be curious. What _did_ the government man say?"
+
+He sighed and drew her cajoling hand out of his hair. "They've got some
+wild idea the man who broke his leg wasn't a man at all. They think he
+was a synthetic of some kind. An android."
+
+"Why, that's ridiculous. You saw him. You certainly know a man when you
+see one."
+
+"According to Brent Taber, these androids _are_ men, to all intents and
+purposes, but they're manufactured."
+
+"That's just utterly insane. Are we paying taxes just to keep a lot of
+people in Washington who don't know the difference between a human being
+and a--"
+
+"Rhoda! Please! I'm sick of the whole thing and I'd rather not talk
+about it."
+
+"But he must have told you more than that. Where do these--these
+androids come from?"
+
+"He didn't tell us any more than he had to, but I got the idea they
+think they're from outer space."
+
+Rhoda laughed. "I never heard such foolishness in my life." She stopped
+laughing abruptly. "Who's _us_?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"You said, 'He didn't tell _us_ any more than he had to ...' Who was
+with you?"
+
+"Oh. Les King. You don't know him."
+
+She seemed satisfied with the information and probed no farther.
+
+He drew her close and looked very seriously into her eyes. "You have
+changed, Rhoda. What's got into you?"
+
+She put her lips to his and whispered, "Is this changed?" She ran one
+hand softly and seductively down his body. "Or that?"
+
+He took her in his arms. "No, baby, that hasn't changed. I guess I was
+wrong."
+
+And as she kissed him, she saw the oddly expressionless face, the cold
+empty eyes--of John Dennis.
+
+And she was afraid.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Something in the mind that had been given him--the synthetic duplicate
+of what had once been a part of Sam Baker--told the tenth android that
+women were attractive. For just what reason, he could not tell. There
+was nothing in his practical working structure that had any need of
+women. Still, the attraction was there in the memory patterns that had
+been transferred.
+
+There were other attractions just as puzzling to him. He had vague
+memories of people with whom he felt no affinity except as vaguely
+nostalgic memories--Sam Baker's mother, his father, the blurred faces of
+friends he had known. And, at times, there were faint tinges of the
+terror Sam had known that night when a quick light flashed down from
+nowhere and he was abducted into a world too strange and terrible to be
+real. Yet it _had_ been real.
+
+There were no birth memories in the android, but there were the vestiges
+of Sam's death memories: the endless torture under a machine so
+sensitive that, while it had no definition of a woman, it was able to
+discern--in the names thefted from Sam's memory and used as names for
+the ten androids--those which applied to males and those that did not.
+
+But of all these traces of memories, those concerning women nagged the
+android most. And now, as it turned his empty gaze on Rhoda Kane, it was
+with a little more personal interest than before.
+
+"What did Frank Corson tell you?"
+
+"He said the man in the hospital with a broken leg was not a man. He was
+an android."
+
+The term, grotesquely enough, meant nothing to the creature who called
+himself John Dennis. In the strange pattern of his consciousness there
+were no patterns of definitive difference. Though in many respects more
+able than the humans against whom he was pitted, he was no more aware of
+himself as different than a dog is aware of its differences from a man.
+The concept didn't take shape in the android's synthetic mind.
+
+"Did he tell you where the man with the broken leg came from?"
+
+"He said they thought it came from somewhere in outer space."
+
+"There were others. Did he know of them?"
+
+"No. He only told me about a man named Les King."
+
+"What did he say about Les King?"
+
+"King was there when the government man talked to Frank. That was all.
+The government wanted them to say nothing."
+
+"But Frank Corson told you."
+
+"He would not tell anyone else, though. He is not interested in the
+androids. He wants to forget them."
+
+"But Les King does not want to forget them?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Will he talk about them?"
+
+"I don't know that, either. I have never seen Les King."
+
+"Can the government man keep Les King from talking about the man with
+the broken leg?"
+
+"I doubt if he can force him to."
+
+John Dennis again left the window and approached Rhoda Kane. She was
+wearing a housecoat, a brassiere and panties underneath.
+
+"Take off your clothes."
+
+Rhoda unbuttoned the housecoat and slipped it off. That strange
+excitement showed in her eyes now.
+
+The android pointed. "Take those off."
+
+As she unhooked her brassiere, Rhoda said, "My head aches."
+
+"Your head does not ache."
+
+"You are right, my head does not ache."
+
+She slipped out of the panties and stood naked. The android regarded
+her. "You are different."
+
+"Of course. I am a woman."
+
+"I want to make love." As Rhoda stood motionless, helpless, he spoke
+very positively. "You make love on the bed. We will go into the bedroom
+..."
+
+Later, she was never able to recall any details of that next half-hour.
+In defense of her own sanity, she was able to block the incident from
+her mind. But as she lay naked on the bed, looking up at the man she
+knew as John Dennis, she thought of her mind as being in two sections.
+One section, the part of her consciousness that clung to reality, kept
+saying, _I want to cry. If I could cry, everything would be all right.
+Why can't I cry?_
+
+The other part was a pool of quivering excitement. She lay motionless,
+watching John Dennis undress, garment by garment, until he, too, was
+naked.
+
+His body was not perfect, yet it had an individual perfection of its own
+in Rhoda's eyes. The skin was smooth and white, the legs and hips firm
+and masculine. The chest was broad and Rhoda wanted to put her hands on
+it and feel John Dennis' hands on her own body.
+
+He stood looking at her, a little like a child, she thought tenderly; a
+child waiting to be told what to do. She did not account this as
+strange--only as a shyness in him. She held out her arms.
+
+He lowered himself onto the bed beside her. She put her arms around him
+and pressed her lips to his. She waited. Nothing happened.
+
+He was neither cold nor passionate. He was neither hostile nor friendly.
+He was nothing.
+
+"You wanted to make love," Rhoda whispered. "Here I am. Take me. Take
+me."
+
+Instead, he disengaged himself, raised himself up on his elbows and
+looked down at her. "You are quite different."
+
+She did not know whether to be complimented or offended. "I'm about the
+same as every other woman."
+
+"You are different than I am."
+
+"Of course I'm different." Was he joking? He didn't seem to be. He was
+deadly serious as he began examining her breasts.
+
+_This is mad. This is insane. Why can't I cry?_
+
+But the other part of her mind quivered with her body as John Dennis
+went over it, inch by inch. He appeared to be trying to memorize it. She
+moved and turned as his hands directed, a new kind of fire rising within
+her. She waited. He touched her and waited for a response. There was
+none; nor any feeling within her at that moment except the strange fire
+inside and the ache of her taut groin tendons.
+
+John Dennis touched her again and noted the sudden jerk and quiver of
+her response. He became grotesquely, academically interested. He touched
+the same nerve surface again and studied her face for the response.
+
+Her eyes were closed and her lower lip was gripped in her teeth. "No,"
+she gasped. "Not that way. Not that way--please."
+
+She could have been pleading with a brick wall. John Dennis
+continued--her natural reactions interested him. He frowned and seemed
+puzzled by the excitement he generated within her.
+
+Then she cried out and rolled away from him and lay sobbing, her face
+buried in the pillow. But they were dry sobs; strange, tense sounds
+filling a questionable and dubious ecstasy.
+
+"You are cruel," she whimpered.
+
+"Cruel?"
+
+"You make love so brutally."
+
+He considered this and then got off the bed. "I do not like making
+love."
+
+He began putting on his clothes. She watched him, completely defeated.
+"Where do you come from?" she demanded. "Who are you? Why did you want
+to know about the man with the broken leg?"
+
+He turned from putting on his shirt and stood motionless, looking down
+into her eyes and after a moment or two it did not matter to Rhoda
+again. It mattered no more than it had in the beginning. The strange
+fire had not been quenched by what had occurred. It was still there, in
+her mind more than in her body, but finding its boundaries was not
+important either.
+
+"Are you going?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Will you come back?"
+
+"I will come back. I want you to find out from Frank Corson what
+happened to the androids."
+
+"He doesn't know."
+
+"Have him find out for you."
+
+"I can't do that."
+
+"Then I will not come back."
+
+Somehow, in the part of Rhoda Kane's mind that was beyond her control,
+the thought that John Dennis might not return took on the proportions of
+a disaster. Her feeling was akin to panic as she said, "I will make him
+find out."
+
+"Then I will come back."
+
+"Please. I will wait for you."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Les King answered the knock on the door and broke into a smile. "Well,
+talk about luck! I've been looking all over hell for you. Come in. Come
+in."
+
+The tenth android was already in. He walked across the room and turned
+to look back at Les King with the outside light behind him.
+
+King returned the gaze and wondered if he was afraid. It was an odd
+thing to wonder about. A man should know his own emotions. But King
+could not quite analyze the ones that struck him at that moment. For one
+thing, he'd discounted most of what Taber had said. There was something
+going on here, true--something big. When the government could cover up a
+murder in Greenwich Village, there had to be a big score at stake. And
+there _had_ been a murder--but no cops, no police cars, nothing. Only a
+couple of guys in an unmarked truck walking out with what could have
+been a rolled-up carpet. They'd swiped _his_ pictures and told him to
+keep his mouth shut.
+
+This last was what made Les King mad. He'd found the story. It was his
+by every right. But when they were ready to break it they'd do it
+through some privileged Washington newspaperman who'd get it on a silver
+platter. The hell with that stuff. It would take more than a shadowy
+character like Brent Taber to scare him off.
+
+He looked at the man in the blue suit and said, "You've been lucky.
+They're after you."
+
+"Who is _they_?"
+
+"Taber. The government crowd. The police, too, maybe. You killed that
+guy in the Village, didn't you?" Les King had decided a bold approach
+was the best way. But he was no fool. He kept his hand on the doorknob
+and watched the man carefully. "By the way, you haven't told me your
+name."
+
+"John Dennis."
+
+"You look like a man named Sam Baker. He disappeared about ten years
+ago--from a little town upstate."
+
+"I am John Dennis."
+
+King shrugged. "Okay, you're John Dennis. All I want to do is stay on
+top of this thing and have the inside track when it breaks."
+
+"Brent Taber told you to forget about it."
+
+King did not like the odd feeling of helplessness that seemed to have a
+grip on him. He was not alarmed, though. Over and above this was a
+sense of excitement. There was money here--he knew damned well there was
+money here.
+
+"You want money, don't you?"
+
+The question startled King. Could the guy read his mind? "Who the hell
+doesn't?" he retorted defensively. "If you're heeled you've got it
+made."
+
+Somehow King felt that the pressure, the odd excitement, lessened in
+intensity. His nerves, he conceded, were sure playing tricks.
+
+"There are some things I want. I will tell you where they are. I will
+give you money for them."
+
+An espionage approach? King wondered. In a way, he hoped it was. He
+could always get clear. When the time was right, when he had the story
+locked, he'd go to the FBI with it. He had a quick vision of a spread in
+_Life_, a title: "I Broke the Russian Spy Ring." His own by-line.
+
+"That sounds touchy," he said.
+
+"I will tell you where to go and what to do."
+
+"I'll have to know more than that."
+
+"I will tell you what to do."
+
+John Dennis left without saying good-bye.
+
+Les King stared at the inner side of the closed door. "Jesus!" he
+muttered.
+
+But the excitement was creeping back.
+
+
+
+
+8
+
+
+Brent Taber stood in front of the desk of Authority and said, "Mr.
+Porter, I don't think you people realize the gravity of this situation."
+
+Porter's eyes were frosty. "And just what gives you that idea?"
+
+"The fact that I'm being hamstrung at every turn. Men I assigned to
+search out the last android have been taken off the job, transferred
+away from me without notice."
+
+"You speak of being _hamstrung_." Porter pronounced the term with an
+inflection of disgust, as though it were a vulgarism no gentleman would
+use. "You say we do not realize the gravity of the situation. Perhaps we
+realize it far more than you do. It may be that your activities have
+been indirectly curtailed because you have not recognized the vital need
+of harmony in government."
+
+"Are you telling me Crane's ego is still smarting?"
+
+"_Senator_ Crane did, in the spirit of co-operation, mention certain
+leaks in your department."
+
+"What in hell are you talking about?"
+
+"I'd watch my tone if I were you, Taber. You aren't talking to one of
+your legmen now!"
+
+Taber's teeth came tight together. "I'm sorry. Let me repeat the
+question. Exactly what was the nature of the leak to which the Senator
+referred?"
+
+"A tape--transcribed at one of your top-secret meetings."
+
+Taber's fist closed and opened. "I guess maybe I have been lax," he said
+softly.
+
+Porter, grimly happy to have made his point, went on. "As to policy up
+above, I'll be quite frank. We have not necessarily gone along with your
+theory that the so-called androids were from outer space."
+
+"Then where do you think they originated?"
+
+"We have put data into the calculators on that point. So far, the
+results have been inconclusive."
+
+"That's too bad."
+
+"Your sarcasm is uncalled for. I am quite willing to tell you, however,
+that we have been proceeding in the matter. You are aware, no doubt, of
+the recent space shot that ended disastrously?"
+
+"Who isn't?"
+
+Still insistent upon treating Taber like a backward child, Porter said,
+"The missile was safely launched and made five orbits and then suffered
+destruction."
+
+"There was a lot of newspaper copy written on the failure; a lot of
+questions asked as to the cause."
+
+"The releases were entirely true," Porter said with prim severity.
+"There was malfunction of crucial units under stress. But another phase
+was not made public. The astronaut's mission--one of them, at least--was
+to hunt outer space for foreign bodies of any description."
+
+"What did he report?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"I recall a story printed by some Washington columnist that some of the
+code picked up from the missile was not translated for the press. This,
+he stated, in view of the Administration's current 'Open End' policy on
+such matters, was strange."
+
+"If you're implying that we censored certain information, that's quite
+true. In the public interest."
+
+"To keep scientific information out of Russian hands?"
+
+"In this case, no. The astronaut fell victim to a psychological stress
+that was unforeseen. What he sent made no sense whatever. We blame the
+medical men for not finding the flaw in his psyche."
+
+"And I would be entirely out of line in assuming he did discover hostile
+foreign bodies and was destroyed by them?"
+
+"Entirely," Porter snapped.
+
+Brent Taber's eyes were stony. "But I _am_ to assume that you're asking
+for my resignation."
+
+Now Porter shrugged. "If that is the way you see it, I can, of course,
+only tender my regrets."
+
+"Well, you won't have to. I'm not resigning."
+
+The sharp declaration made Porter blink. "It's rather unusual that a
+man, after a vote of no confidence--"
+
+"To hell with that. If a tape got out of my office, it's my fault. I'll
+grant that. But there's more to this. I'm willing to bet the man who
+told you was the same one who engineered the steal."
+
+"That's ridiculous! Are you accusing Senator Crane of--?"
+
+"I'm accusing an opportunist-demagogue of playing fast and loose with
+national safety to further his own ends and salve his ego. I'm accusing
+the men above me of being too weak-kneed to back their own against
+outside interference."
+
+"I'll stand for no insults from you, Taber!"
+
+"You'll take it and like it," Brent Taber said savagely. "You'll take it
+because you can't knock me out of my office overnight. It will take
+time. You've got to go up through the command and you'll have to go
+pretty high before you'll find anyone who'll do it with the stroke of a
+pen. Nobody wants to stick their neck out."
+
+"Of course," Porter replied icily, "if you care to keep functioning as a
+discredited person--"
+
+"I can. And I will. I'd be a coward if I didn't."
+
+Porter was obviously disappointed but he shrugged. "That's your
+privilege. You, of course, will not be taken off the payroll."
+
+"The payroll be damned. Send my checks to the Red Cross!"
+
+And Brent Taber strode out of Porter's office, a man who stood alone in
+the Washington jungle of clashing ambitions, of purposes and
+cross-purposes--but a man who had no thought of quitting.
+
+After Brent left, Porter put through a call to Senator Crane's office.
+
+" ... so, while severing Brent Taber from official activity would be
+rather difficult, Senator, I have, in the interests of efficiency,
+withdrawn most of his facilities."
+
+"A wise move, Porter. A very wise move."
+
+"By the way, Senator, that hydroelectric project on the Panamint River
+your Conservation people have in the works. I'm quite interested in it."
+
+"Is that so?" Crane asked guardedly.
+
+"Yes. Perhaps because of my experience along those lines in South
+America. I consider it a great opportunity to serve and I understand the
+administrator's post is still open."
+
+Porter's tone was vague. "Yes. I believe it is."
+
+"Of course, I'm quite happy where I am, you understand. I'm not looking
+for a change. However, the challenge does intrigue me."
+
+"I'll give you a ring, Porter. Just sit tight until you hear from me."
+
+After hanging up, Porter sat back and wondered. He tried to analyze the
+tone in which Crane had made the promise to call. It had been falsely
+cordial, beyond a doubt. Maybe Crane figured Taber's scalp was too small
+a price to pay for the hydroelectric plum. Well, in that case, Porter
+philosophized, he hadn't lost a great deal. It was all in the game.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frank Corson was confused and troubled by the changes that continued to
+come over Rhoda Kane. He could not quite put his finger on the start of
+it, but as he saw her now, a scant two weeks after the incident of the
+man with two hearts, he could clearly see the changes. Where she had
+been a beautiful, poised, self-controlled woman, she was now more
+nervous and quick of movement, brighter of eye, full of a new restless
+energy he could not account for.
+
+Also, the dominance in their affair had shifted. He had always, it
+seemed, been the dominant factor, in that Rhoda had continually catered
+to his moods and bent to the winds of his own unrest and
+dissatisfaction.
+
+But one evening when he was free of duty at Park Hill, Rhoda came home
+and entered the apartment without glancing toward the double-width sofa
+by the window. Frank, stretched out with a drink in his hand, watched
+her as she took her key out of the lock and put it back in her purse. He
+was struck by the fact that with this new "personality" that had become
+a part of her, she was even more attractive than before. A glow had been
+added. The quiet, dignified, statuesque beauty of before had been
+mysteriously vitalized by a new kind of inner life.
+
+She turned from the door and, looking into the bright glare of the
+eight-foot windows, she saw him on the sofa and took a quick step
+forward.
+
+"Oh," she cried. "It's you!"
+
+"Of course, it's me."
+
+Rhoda stopped dead and Frank was sure that the look of eagerness died as
+suddenly as it had been born.
+
+"Well, good lord! Whom were you expecting?"
+
+Rhoda laughed. "You just surprised me, that's all."
+
+"Well, you gave me the keys to your apartment. Wasn't I supposed to use
+them?"
+
+"Of course, silly." She came across the room and sat down on the sofa
+beside him. She bent down and kissed him.
+
+"Golly," he said, sarcastically enthusiastic, "that was about as
+stimulating as a meeting between two dead fish."
+
+"Frank! For heaven's sake! What's got into you lately?"
+
+"I think that question should be reversed. 'What's got into _you_?"
+
+"I think you're being unreasonable."
+
+"Am I? Is it unreasonable to wonder why you did a complete about-face?"
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"You understand. I've brought it up before. You spent weeks convincing
+me I ought to carry through with my internship and establish a practice.
+You said the time element didn't make any difference to you. You talked
+me out of the silly idea I had about cashing in on the man with two
+hearts. I admitted it was a silly idea. I turned away from it
+completely. Then you did the world's fastest about-face and began asking
+questions. You began pushing me in the direction you'd been arguing
+against."
+
+Rhoda refused to match his serious mood. She ran a playful hand through
+his hair. "A woman has a right to change her mind, hasn't she?"
+
+"Oh, stop it, Rhoda. You're avoiding the issue."
+
+"All right. I still maintain I have a right to change my mind, but in
+making it all seem completely unnatural you neglected to mention _why_
+you changed yours. Because a man named Brent Taber slapped your wrist
+like a little boy and scared you. It wasn't my influence that turned you
+around and started you walking the other way. It was a _big_ man from
+Washington who said naughty, naughty and suddenly you were a nice little
+intern again, afraid to ask questions."
+
+"It was more dangerous than you know, Rhoda."
+
+"Oh, I'm sure it was. Do you want another drink?"
+
+"No." Frank looked out the window and scowled. "Rhoda, there was
+something I didn't tell you about that affair."
+
+"Was there? I'll bet you told Brent Taber, though."
+
+"It was what brought Brent Taber into it. There was a murder in my
+room."
+
+"And when Brent Taber came on the scene--" Rhoda stopped and stared down
+at him. "What did you say?"
+
+"A man was killed in my room. The man with the broken leg. He didn't
+just go on his way, as I told you; he got his throat cut in my room."
+
+Rhoda continued to stare. "And you didn't tell me about it."
+
+"Brent Taber told me to keep my mouth shut."
+
+"I suppose if Brent Taber had said, 'I don't want you to see that woman
+again,' you wouldn't even have dropped around to say good-bye."
+
+"Rhoda--you're being unreasonable."
+
+"Unreasonable to expect the man who says he loves me to confide in me?"
+
+"All right. I was wrong. What happened is this: When William Matson was
+ready to leave Park Hill, he had no place to go, so I took him down to
+my room. I went back to the hospital and Les King contacted me. He said
+William Matson was really a man named Sam Baker who'd disappeared from
+his home in upstate New York ten years ago. We went down to see him and
+found him sitting in a chair with his throat cut."
+
+"You've been involved in a murder and you didn't say a single, solitary
+word--"
+
+"Rhoda! I said I was sorry."
+
+"I didn't see anything about it in the papers. I'm sure it wasn't on any
+of the newscasts."
+
+"Of course, it wasn't. The police didn't even question me. I called the
+police and they came--two prowl-car men. Then they told Les and me to
+wait. We waited, and after a while this Brent Taber came in. He told us
+to go home and keep our mouths shut. Later, we were called downtown and
+Taber talked to us."
+
+"He told you to go home," Rhoda said sarcastically. "You also said the
+man was killed in your room. Just where is your home, Mr. Corson?"
+
+"I came here, Rhoda. I spent that night here."
+
+"With a possible murder charge hanging over your head, you came here and
+didn't say a word!"
+
+Frank sprang up from the couch and turned, scowling. "Goddamn it! Don't
+you believe me? Do you think I'm lying?"
+
+"I don't know what to believe. I just feel--betrayed. But something else
+is more important."
+
+"What?"
+
+"You acted like a child. Just because some man appeared out of nowhere,
+you said _Yes, sir_ and _No, sir_ and _Sorry, sir_ and walked away.
+Frank! I'm ashamed of you!"
+
+In quick anger, his hand came back as though to slap her. But he dropped
+it to his side and strode across the room and picked up his jacket.
+
+"And so now you're walking out again. You just can't face up to
+anything, can you, Doctor Corson."
+
+He turned on her, his eyes blazing. "All right. Maybe everything you say
+is true. Maybe I've seesawed and acted like a kid. If I have, it's
+because of you. The thing in the Village had nothing to do with me
+changing my mind about going into research. I did it because I thought
+you wanted me to."
+
+Now Rhoda was on her feet, too, her patrician nostrils flaring. "Well,
+don't do me any favors."
+
+"From now on, I wouldn't dream of it."
+
+As he pulled on his jacket, Rhoda sat down on the sofa and lit a
+cigarette. "I'm convinced that if you'd gone along with Les King you
+would have been on the right road. King wasn't frightened off by a man
+who said he represented the government. He saw a chance to make some
+money and is probably going ahead with it right now."
+
+"I don't give a damn what Les King is doing!"
+
+"Of course not. But there's another little thing you overlooked. Don't
+you suppose this Brent Taber will toss that murder right back into your
+lap if it suits his purpose? The body was in your room. You're probably
+the chief suspect. So you sit back and let Brent Taber play whatever
+game he's got in mind. And if it goes wrong, Frank Corson gets picked up
+for murder."
+
+"It can't possibly happen that way."
+
+"Why not? Who is Brent Taber, really?"
+
+"I told you--a government man."
+
+"What government? Where can you get in touch with him?"
+
+"I don't know. He gave me a phone number in case I ever saw a certain
+man again."
+
+"What man?"
+
+"Rhoda! They aren't men at all. They're androids!"
+
+Rhoda froze and stared at him in consternation. "You actually _believe_
+that fairy tale? Frank, I just don't understand you."
+
+"I told you about it before."
+
+"But for the life of me I didn't think you took it seriously."
+
+"I just didn't care. I'd had it. I wanted out."
+
+"But you're involved in it, up to your neck, and if you had any guts
+you'd face Taber and make him tell you _all_ the facts--and what's
+behind them."
+
+"I have no intention of calling him."
+
+"I guess that's the rock we split on then," Rhoda said coldly. She
+couldn't understand herself, even while she knew, deep down, that she
+wanted more information for _him_--John Dennis. Any other reason or
+excuse she used was a sham, a self-delusion.
+
+If she expected a protest, she didn't get it. Rhoda took a long, calm
+drag on her cigarette. She ground it into the ash tray. She raised her
+eyes and looked levelly at Frank.
+
+"Very well," he said, finally, "It was nice knowing you."
+
+"Shut the door quietly on the way out," she retorted.
+
+He stared at her, his face revealing nothing. He turned, went to the
+door, and opened it. He looked back. She had not moved. He left without
+a word.
+
+Rhoda Kane lit another cigarette. She stared out across the East River
+at the expensive view that went with her high-rent apartment. She got up
+and went to the liquor cabinet and made herself a drink.
+
+She was back on the sofa when a key turned in the lock. The door opened.
+Frank Corson came in, walked to her and stood looking down at her. There
+was misery in his face, a beaten look in his eyes.
+
+"You knew I couldn't do it."
+
+"Couldn't do what, sweet?"
+
+"Walk out on you. I'm in love with you, goddamn it. If I stayed away
+tonight, I'd be back tomorrow."
+
+Rhoda set her glass down and held out her arms. "Darling," she
+whispered. "You wouldn't have had to. I'd have been down in the Village
+after you."
+
+He kissed her hungrily and she pressed her hand against the back of his
+head, holding his mouth tight to hers. His hand slipped inside her
+blouse. She laid her own hand on it and held it firm.
+
+"It's for your own good, darling, that I want you to contact this Taber
+and demand what you're entitled to. You have a right to know. If you
+don't find out, there might be a policeman at your door, any minute of
+the day or night."
+
+"I'll call him."
+
+"And if he tells you it's none of your business, stand up to him."
+
+"I will."
+
+She allowed his hand to go on with its exploring now. His finger touched
+her nipple, played with it. She closed her eyes as his mouth again
+sought hers. "Darling ..." she murmured.
+
+But she was speaking to a man who had come from nowhere and had
+identified himself only as John Dennis. She had no number at which to
+call him. She could only wait until he returned again, if he ever did.
+
+She thought: _Oh, God, John Dennis. Why do you turn away from me? Why
+did you strip me naked and look at me as though I were a statue? Will
+you come back again? Please come back and make love to me._
+
+She felt Frank Corson unsnapping her brassiere. She closed her eyes and
+lay back and waited, and for all the effect he had on her, Frank Corson
+could have been a statue.
+
+At the last moment she insisted, "Remember, Frank, you've got to find
+out _everything_!"
+
+
+
+
+9
+
+
+The man had sallow skin; the look of a consumptive. He sat in a chair
+beside Crane's desk and dropped the ash from his cigar on Crane's
+wall-to-wall carpeting. Crane scowled, but let it pass.
+
+"All right. Dorfman, what have you got to show for the money I've paid
+you?"
+
+Dorfman, an old hand at confidential snooping, refused to quail before
+the much-publicized senatorial scowl. "It's tough putting on a hunt when
+you're not quite sure what you're after."
+
+"I told you what I wanted. I wanted you to watch for any New York
+contacts Brent Taber might be using at the present time. That's simple
+enough, isn't it?"
+
+"Taber contacts a lot of people. And he's a dangerous man to tail. He
+knows all the tricks."
+
+"Are you telling me he caught you following him? If he did, you're no
+longer of any value to me."
+
+"He didn't spot me," Dorfman said. "I followed him to New York and kept
+tabs on a Manhattan office, one he uses as his headquarters there."
+
+"A directory check would tell me that."
+
+"Take it easy. I staked out the place all day yesterday. Five men
+entered and left. Four were his own men."
+
+Crane made a notation on a pad. He knew about those men. They'd been
+pulled off Taber's staff without notice. No doubt they'd made their last
+report to Taber and had headed back to Washington for reassignment.
+Dorfman would not know this, of course.
+
+Or so Crane thought. Dorfman smiled as though he'd read Crane's mind and
+said, "I think Taber's losing his staff. They were government men--four
+of them--reporting in or out. My guess was _out_." He peered keenly at
+Crane for a moment. "Who's slicing away at Taber behind his back?"
+
+"That's none of your--look here, Dorfman, I can get a better man than
+you at half the price!"
+
+"No, you can't," Dorfman said easily. "Like I told you, there were five.
+The other one turned out to be a Doctor Frank Corson, an intern at Park
+Hill Hospital in Manhattan."
+
+Crane made another quick notation. A Manhattan doctor. One of the
+androids had been found in the East River with its throat slit and a
+broken leg. Now a doctor had contacted Taber. Was there a connection?
+Somehow, Crane had to get on the track of the tenth android Taber was
+hunting. Cutting the ground out from under Taber had been a satisfying
+victory but it wasn't enough. To be of service to his electorate,
+Senator Crane realized, he had to have something tangible in the way of
+evidence. The only way to get this was to ferret out Taber's contacts
+and locate the tenth android himself, or at least be there when Taber
+located the creature.
+
+A man of supreme confidence in his destiny, Crane had been working on
+the speech he would make when he was ready for the _I accuse_ scene from
+the Senate floor. He had even gone so far as to alert a fashionable
+Washington hotel to be ready with a suite at a moment's notice. Crane
+felt his office would be far too small to handle the traffic that would
+result from his revelation.
+
+It did not occur to Crane to compliment Dorfman on his skill as an
+operative, for getting the book so completely and swiftly on a casual
+visitor to Taber's office. He said, "You've got this doctor's address?"
+
+Dorfman put a folded slip of paper on the desk. "Another little item
+I'll throw in as a bonus. Taber had another tail--here in Washington."
+
+This disturbed Crane. Did he have competition in the matter of the
+android? Was someone else trying to get into the act?
+
+"A New York free-lance photographer named King. I didn't have to check
+on him. I recognized him. He's been around Manhattan for years."
+
+"A photographer. What do you suppose he's up to?"
+
+"No way of telling, at the moment. Want me to switch to him?"
+
+"No. Stay on Taber. There's more chance there."
+
+Dorfman got up from his chair, stepping on the ashes as he did so and
+ground them into the rug. "Okay, I'll report tomorrow."
+
+After Dorfman left, Crane pondered the situation. Were the Russians
+behind this? Somehow, he was beginning to doubt it. And this dismayed
+him somewhat. He was enough of a realist to know that even a possible
+invasion from outer space--if that talk hadn't been a cover-up--would
+not carry the power of a Russian plot.
+
+A space invasion? Too science-fictional. It had been done by H. G. Wells
+and God knew how many other writers. Break a yarn like that and nobody
+would believe it. Still, if he could get his hands on the evidence.
+
+He scowled as he contemplated the one stone wall he hadn't been able to
+penetrate. No connection he had, no contact, would reveal the secret
+laboratory where the dissection of the androids had taken place, or the
+specialist who'd done the job. Porter might give it to him in exchange
+for a guarantee of the hydroelectric post. But Crane suspected that even
+Porter did not have this information. The higher you went in these
+top-secret projects, the more silence and stubbornness you found. The
+men up above, it seemed, were never as open to discussion as were the
+lower-echelon eager beavers. They indulged in horse-trading and played
+politics to a certain extent, but the lines of demarcation were sharper.
+That was why he could get Taber discredited, even crippled. But knocking
+a man of his proven ability completely out was another matter. The men
+on the top floor measured a lot of evidence before they acted.
+
+But the body of one of the androids--there should be a way--there had to
+be a way.
+
+Suddenly Crane smiled. Then he chuckled. Then he took an address book
+out of his desk drawer and thumbed through the pages.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frank Corson stared dejectedly at the carpet in Rhoda Kane's apartment.
+"I tried," he said. "I tried damned hard. But it just didn't do any
+good."
+
+Rhoda sat beautifully poised, a picture of sophisticated perfection. She
+wore an obviously expensive costume featured by lounging slacks that
+could have been molded to her body. The afternoon sun glinted on a
+hairdo right out of _Vogue_ or _Harper's Bazaar_. Her expression was
+distant; a look of impersonal pity showed on her face as she regarded
+Frank.
+
+"Tell me about it, sweetie."
+
+Frank cringed inwardly at the appellation. In Manhattan, everyone called
+everyone else _sweetie_.
+
+"There wasn't much to it. I called Taber and then went down to see him.
+I told him exactly how I felt about things and demanded more
+information."
+
+Rhoda frowned. "You _demanded_? Frank! I'm disappointed in you. The
+indignant citizen bit, I suppose. Don't you know how to talk to people?
+Your bedside manner must be tremendous."
+
+"Rhoda! For God's sake!"
+
+She brushed his anger away with a graceful, deprecating wave of her
+hand. "What did you say to him?"
+
+"I was just telling you. I said that with a man killed in my room I had
+a right to some protection. I--"
+
+"Protection! What did you do? Ask the man to hide you? Why didn't you
+get down on your knees and beg his pardon for living?"
+
+Frustrated anger made Corson's lips tremble. "I did the best I could! I
+told him that if I couldn't find out from him what was going on, I'd go
+to the New York police. I told him I had a right to know about these
+androids."
+
+"And he told you the only right you had was to drop dead, I suppose."
+
+Frank Corson got to his feet. His face was stiff. His eyes were
+tortured. He ran a helpless hand along his jaw.
+
+"All right, Rhoda. All right. If this is the way you want it, there's
+nothing I can do."
+
+"What do you mean--the way I want it? All I've been trying to do is put
+a little courage into you? Didn't Taber tell you a thing about the
+androids?"
+
+"He wasn't as brutal as I made it sound. In fact, he's a rather nice guy
+in a tough spot."
+
+"I'm sure of that, but we couldn't care less. What did he say about the
+androids?"
+
+A new, desperate wariness had been born in Frank Corson. He could take
+only so much and now he regarded Rhoda with a hostility of his own. "A
+short time ago you hooted the android idea. What changed you?"
+
+"I use it as a term of identification! Good heavens! You act like a
+child. All I'm trying to do is get a little information--"
+
+"For whom, Rhoda?"
+
+He threw the question so suddenly it put Rhoda off balance. Quick fear
+flashed into her eyes. Then it vanished behind a wall of defiance.
+
+"Are you out of your mind? Why would I have any interest in this mess
+except by way of protecting your interests?"
+
+"_My_ interests. I can remember not long ago when you'd have called them
+_our_ interests."
+
+"There you go again. Talking like a child!"
+
+Frank crossed the room and stood close to Rhoda's chair. He looked down
+at her, and when he spoke there was a change in his manner. Now there
+was a finality in his tone that had ice in it.
+
+"I don't know what this is all about, Rhoda, but I'm not as much of a
+child as you seem to think. Subjectiveness does make a person sound and
+act that way at times. This is a reflection of inner confusion and
+bewilderment. I'll admit I'm confused and bewildered. But I'm getting
+your message, too. I think you're telling me that whatever has happened
+to you is none of my business. Very well. You know where to find me if
+you need me."
+
+He was walking toward the door, his back turned, so he did not see the
+mute appeal in Rhoda's face. "Frank--!"
+
+He had opened the door and turned. "I'm sorry, Rhoda. I thought we had
+something. I'll admit I didn't handle it very well but I did my best."
+
+He went out and closed the door softly behind him and was gone.
+
+Pure tragedy ripped across Rhoda's eyes as she sprang to her feet, took
+several steps toward the door, and stopped. A wordless cry rose within
+her and came out as a miserable little kitten whimper.
+
+But then she stiffened. The moment of panic passed. She straightened and
+touched a displaced lock of hair. The warmth of the new excitement she
+lived with gushed anew, and the bright, nervous smile touched her lips.
+
+She went over, made herself a drink and went to the window. She looked
+down. He was out there somewhere, going about his mysterious business.
+The smile she thought of as soft and tender was really brittle and quite
+hard. She downed her drink thirstily as though it helped quench the
+fever in her throat.
+
+She put the glass down and heard a whisper: "John, John, why don't you
+come to me? I'll help you. I'll understand. I'll teach you to make love.
+Let me help you, darling."
+
+The whisper was her own and it ended in a sob.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brent Taber was studying some reports on his desk. They were not sources
+of satisfaction in any sense. Most of them were memos noting changes in
+the departmental assignments of staff men: _Due to unforeseen
+emergencies and the reassessment of current workloads it has become
+necessary to transfer from your subdepartment three ... two ... four
+..._
+
+And so it went.
+
+He sat back and closed his eyes. He was tired and he conceded it, which
+was a stark admission for Brent Taber. And he wondered: Was it worth it?
+Banging your head against a stone wall. It would be so easy to say,
+_Okay, it's your world, too. If you aren't worried why should I bother?_
+Maybe it's not worth it. Why not assume that if there is a superior race
+standing off somewhere in space, they're only a bunch of paper tigers
+and to hell with it. Or maybe they wish us only the best. Maybe--
+
+The door opened. Marcia Holly pushed her head in. "Have you eaten
+anything today?"
+
+"Get lost, sweetheart," Brent said absently.
+
+"Maybe you look on eating as a bad habit, like sleeping, but it would be
+nice to avoid a breakdown and stay out of the hospital, too."
+
+"You're such a pleasant person to have around, except when you get up
+off your chair and start making noises like a woman."
+
+"Just to accommodate you, I'll change my sex. But right now, there's a
+man to see you."
+
+"Tell him to go to hell but don't offend him."
+
+"I think you ought to see him. He's got an official paper of some kind.
+You didn't steal a car or anything, did you?"
+
+"I parked in the middle of an intersection, but I didn't think they'd
+mind." Brent Taber sighed. "All right. Send him in."
+
+The man was small, ingrown and, as Brent Taber learned, somewhat
+stubborn.
+
+"My name is Charles Blackwell," he said. "My brother has been lost for
+over two months now."
+
+"I'm sorry," Brent said politely.
+
+"My brother was a source of concern to us--"
+
+"Who is _us_?"
+
+"Why, the family. Who else? We all worried about Charlie. He had fits of
+depression. Kind of a maniac-depressive."
+
+"_Manic_-depressive," Taber corrected gently.
+
+"Yeah, that kind, ah--kind of. Well anyhow, he hides from us sometimes
+and we worry."
+
+"Who sent you to me?"
+
+Charles Blackwell waved a vague hand, "Oh, they told me you were the man
+to see."
+
+"Tell me their names," Brent said politely. "I'd like to thank them
+personally."
+
+"Oh that won't be necessary--not necessary at all. You see the thing is,
+my brother Jack has accidents sometimes and so we figured he might have
+broken a leg or something, maybe, and it seems you--well, you kind of
+turned out to be the man to see about it." Charles Blackwell waved the
+paper. "With this."
+
+_Good lord_, Taber groaned inwardly. _This thing is turning into a comic
+opera--plain slapstick._
+
+"And why am I the man to see?"
+
+"Because they said you knew about a man with a broken leg who got killed
+or something."
+
+"They said that?"
+
+"Uh-huh, and if you'd just let me see the man, I could tell in a jiffy
+whether he's Jack or not."
+
+It had been a pretty long speech and Charles Blackwell seemed happy to
+get it off his chest. He felt he'd earned a cigarette so he lit one.
+
+Brent Taber watched the match go out and then said, "You're the
+Goddamnedest phony I've met this week."
+
+"They said you'd say that, but all I want is to see the man and then
+I'll know. I'll tell you in a jiffy if he's my brother."
+
+"All right."
+
+Charles Blackwell gulped a throatful of smoke in disbelief. Evidently
+they'd told him it wouldn't be as easy as this. They must have told him
+it would be as hard as hell, because he stared at Brent as though the
+latter hadn't played fair.
+
+Brent reached into a drawer and took out a glossy photo. He pushed it
+across the desk. Charles Blackwell craned his neck, looked, and saw what
+appeared to be a man lying naked on a marble slab with his throat cut.
+
+Blackwell swallowed hard and nodded and said, "Yeah, that's Jack, all
+right."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"I can tell."
+
+"You can?"
+
+Charles Blackwell got a little indignant. "Of course, I can. Don't you
+think a man knows his own brother?"
+
+"That depends on which man and what brother."
+
+"I want the body of my relative," Charles Blackwell said.
+
+"I'll see you in hell first," Brent Taber replied pleasantly. "Now get
+out of my office before I send for the man who uses the broom around
+here."
+
+Charles Blackwell was more comfortable now--more confident. "That's what
+they told me you'd say, so they gave me this to bring. It's a court
+order signed by a judge who sits in a court and listens to people's
+beefs about getting pushed around and does something about it."
+
+Brent Taber took the paper and peered at the signature. "It figures," he
+said softly. "It figures right down the line."
+
+"He's a fine judge," Charles Blackwell said virtuously.
+
+"He's a skunk. He'll sign anything there's a buck in, and sometimes
+he'll do it for fifty cents. He'd be a disgrace even to a park bench,
+and why they haven't caught up with him I'll never know."
+
+"A fine man," Charles Blackwell said, "and the paper is as legal as--"
+
+"Oh, it's legal all right."
+
+Brent Taber lapsed into silence and Charles Blackwell seemed happy to
+allow him this privilege. _All I need_, Brent thought, _is a
+court-defiance rap charged against me. Is that what Crane is trying to
+get? Did he expect me to throw this creep out of my office and leave
+myself wide open? Maybe, maybe not. If not, what is Crane after? He's
+certainly achieved his purpose in getting even with an upstart
+government appointee._
+
+"Okay," Brent Taber said decisively. "You can have the body. Come with
+me."
+
+He got up, put on his hat, and strode out through the reception room and
+into the corridor. Charles Blackwell came scuttling along behind. Brent
+ignored the elevators and went through a door marked _Stairway_ and
+started down at a fast clip. Charles Blackwell came clopping along
+behind.
+
+Six flights lower down, Blackwell gasped, "Why don't we use the
+el--elevator?"
+
+Brent ignored him and went down seventeen more flights. Charles
+Blackwell was livid when they reached the bottom.
+
+"For Christ sake--!"
+
+Taber walked to the curb and dived out into traffic. Blackwell plunged
+out after him, horns snarling and general indignation ruling above the
+chaos.
+
+They reached the opposite curb through some obscure miracle, with
+Blackwell hanging on grimly until Taber pushed a door open and plunged
+into a thick odor of formaldehyde.
+
+"Have you still got that court order?" Taber asked as though hopeful of
+a negative answer.
+
+Blackwell held it up triumphantly. A few minutes later, he was gaping
+down at a hasty reassembly of what had once been the ninth android.
+
+He swallowed hard and said, "Nope. It ain't Jack."
+
+"You're sure?" Taber said sarcastically. "It looks just like the
+picture.
+
+"Not quite. Anyhow, it ain't Jack."
+
+The mystified Dr. Entman eyed Taber quizzically. "What's this all
+about?"
+
+Taber jerked a thumb in the direction of Blackwell. "The eleventh
+android," he said tersely, and strode out of the laboratory.
+
+Dr. Entman shook his head sadly, certain that Taber had slipped a cog.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Charles Blackwell, a trifle ill from the smell of formaldehyde, stood on
+the corner, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. When he opened his
+eyes a man in a blue suit was standing beside him.
+
+"I would like you to answer some questions for me," the man said.
+
+Blackwell gulped and blinked. "Sorry, mister, I'm kind of a stranger
+here myself."
+
+"That man you entered this building with--what business did you have
+with him?"
+
+It should have occurred to Charles Blackwell that this was none of the
+stranger's business, but it didn't. That thought came later but, at the
+moment, as he looked into the man's oddly empty eyes, his question
+seemed entirely justified.
+
+"Well, you see, my brother Jack bothers us, kind of. He gets
+manic-depressive spells."
+
+"What did that have to do with Brent Taber?"
+
+"We thought maybe my brother broke his leg and then dropped dead or--or
+something. Anyhow, I got this here court order--they gave it to me--and
+I showed it to Taber--"
+
+"Who are _they_?"
+
+Blackwell felt strangely excited. He felt as though this man were a
+friend, although he didn't know quite why.
+
+"Well, you see I've been around a long time. I run errands and things
+for Senator Crane. I'm confidential to him, you understand, because I
+never talk. I always keep my mouth shut. So he trusts me and he gave me
+this here court order--"
+
+"Who is Senator Crane?"
+
+"You don't know Senator Crane? You new in this country maybe?"
+
+"He is a government official?"
+
+"He's elected to office. He's a United States Senator. Anyhow, Brent
+Taber showed me this here guy all cut up and I said it wasn't Jack
+and--well, that was that."
+
+"What room did Brent Taber take you to?"
+
+"The damn place smelled like a skunk factory."
+
+"What room number?"
+
+"Ten twenty-six--I think. Yeah, ten twenty-six it was, and I'm telling
+you, if you go in there, for Christ sake wear a gas mask. I damn near--"
+
+But Charles Blackwell was talking to himself. The man had turned away
+abruptly and was now disappearing around the corner.
+
+"I wonder what the hell he wanted?" Blackwell asked plaintively. Then he
+hailed a cab and went to report to Senator Crane.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The tenth android stood with his back to the window in Les King's room
+in Manhattan and said, "There is something I want you to do. If you are
+very careful, you will succeed. If you succeed, there is a great deal of
+money in it for you."
+
+The fear that grew in Les King when they were apart, the uneasy feeling
+that maybe money wasn't the most important thing in the world, died
+automatically as John Dennis stared at him through those strangely empty
+eyes.
+
+"Is it something I can handle?"
+
+"Yes." Dennis handed King a folded slip of paper. "I have written down
+an address there. It is in Washington, D.C. I want you to enter those
+premises--that room--and find some reports that should be there."
+
+"Reports on what?"
+
+"It is a dissecting place of some kind. That's where the bodies of the
+androids are. The man who is doing it must have reports. There must be
+records that tell what was wrong with the androids. It must be put down
+somewhere why they died."
+
+"Does it matter?"
+
+"It is a matter of vital importance. There will be much money for you if
+you get those reports and give them to me."
+
+"Who pays the money?"
+
+"I will pay it to you if you get the reports."
+
+The prospect was exciting to King. Later, there could be a story about
+how he got vital pictures of the project. His thinking had changed, but
+this did not seem odd to him. All thought of functioning in
+counterespionage against the Russians had moved into the back of his
+mind. He was in the game now for the money. Oh was it that? Maybe he was
+in it for the excitement. There was something in the man who called
+himself John Dennis that generated excitement. It was like living a
+melodrama. It tingled in the blood and took a man out of the drab world
+where every day was like the one before it.
+
+"I'll try," Les King said.
+
+"You will succeed."
+
+"I will succeed."
+
+Jesus! This man had a thing about him. He inspired you. When he looked
+at you with those weird eyes, you just knew you couldn't fail.
+
+
+
+
+10
+
+
+The doorbell rang. Rhoda Kane sprang up from the sofa and almost spilled
+her drink. She was halfway across the room before she realized she was
+almost running. She stopped. The hand that held the cocktail glass
+shook.
+
+Resolutely, she steadied, crossed to the liquor cabinet, put down the
+glass, and went calmly to the door.
+
+He stood there looking at her through those oddly empty eyes which,
+through some contradiction of all probability, warmed her.
+
+He came in and closed the door, saying nothing. A touch of panic rippled
+through her. He was so silent, so unbending, so impersonal. Was this a
+reflection of her inability to communicate with him? Could their
+relationship fail because of this shortcoming on her part? What good was
+love if you couldn't communicate it to the loved one?
+
+She moved into his arms and raised her lips. His arms went around her,
+but there was no pressure or affection in them. Their lips were an inch
+apart. Her urge was to give full rein to the heady happiness and
+excitement within her--to show her love in a kiss.
+
+But she held off and, after a few moments, he drew, back, raised one
+hand and passed it through her hair. Not with affection, she thought,
+but rather with curiosity; almost as though he were preoccupied with its
+composition. He rolled a strand of hair between thumb and finger,
+testing it.
+
+"It needs cutting," Rhoda said.
+
+"Do you cut it?"
+
+She laughed nervously. "You don't know much about women, do you."
+
+"I know nothing about woman."
+
+Trying to inject a gay note into her voice, she said, "We eat, we sleep,
+we--we're very functional, really."
+
+He rubbed a finger down her cheek. He pressed the flesh on her neck and
+watched the muscle spring back as he withdrew his finger.
+
+"Do that to me," he said.
+
+Mystified, Rhoda pressed her finger against his neck until she could
+feel a pulse in his throat. She withdrew the finger. "Like that?"
+
+"Did it leave a mark?"
+
+"No. Is there something wrong? Do you have a sore throat?"
+
+"My throat is not sore."
+
+Rhoda's frustration was a pitiful thing. How could she get to him? How
+could she break through his shyness?
+
+"I think you're afraid of me," she said lightly.
+
+He did not answer. He took a backward step and regarded her for a moment
+with a frown. Then he began to unbutton her blouse.
+
+Rhoda wanted to object. An instinctive protest caused her to draw back.
+His only reaction to this was to step forward and continue to unbutton
+her blouse. She wanted to resist but the fear of driving him away held
+her mute; that and something in his eyes that told of excitement, an
+unformed phantom of delight that had never materialized but still held
+sway over her through promise.
+
+He stripped the blouse off. She wore no brassiere underneath, and he
+regarded her breasts somberly. He pressed a nipple with the tip of one
+finger and watched it spring back into place.
+
+"Please. I--"
+
+He ignored her. He pressed the nipple again and then found the zipper on
+the side of her slacks. He pulled it down and pushed the slacks down
+over her hips. She lifted each foot obediently.
+
+He was on his knees now, running his fingers gently down her thighs.
+Rhoda trembled at the touch. Then she realized it was not love-making on
+his part--not in any sense. He was preoccupied with the fine hair on her
+skin. He studied it closely.
+
+"I should have shaved my legs," Rhoda said uncertainly. He raised his
+head, the cold eyes trained into hers. "This hair grows, too?"
+
+Rhoda caught her lower lip between her teeth. Tears were close to the
+surface.
+
+_This is crazy. This is utterly insane. I'm mad or he's mad. I don't
+know. I just don't know ..._
+
+The last garment was removed and she was naked there in the middle of
+the living room. He studied her body again, that passionless,
+preoccupied frown on his face. He drew her down onto the floor and, for
+a moment, the room spun around Rhoda, her emotional entrapment now the
+focal point, the eye of the storm that raged in her being. He went on
+with his minute inspection of her person.
+
+_No--no. Please don't. Please don't treat me like this. I'm a woman.
+Don't be contemptuous of me. Oh, no--please. Don't degrade and humiliate
+me like this._
+
+There was sudden pain. Rhoda's body wrenched and heaved upward. With a
+sob, she sank back to the floor.
+
+_I must fight. I must not allow this. I must not let him do these cruel,
+degrading things to me. I must fight but I am afraid to. I am afraid
+he'll go away and never come back--and if he did that, there would be
+nothing left for me._
+
+John Dennis seemed to become aware for the first time that certain
+manipulations caused reaction--the jerking of Rhoda's body and her
+involuntary cry of pain. He repeated the manipulation with his eyes on
+her face.
+
+_I cannot allow this. I must fight. I must resist. Oh, Rhoda Kane, what
+has happened to you? Frank, please help, help me. Frank--_
+
+But something seemed to flow out of John Dennis and into her mind and
+soul and spirit; something that made the flesh and what was done to the
+flesh unimportant.
+
+The touch of John Dennis' hand brought fright as it foretold further
+pain and degradation. Rhoda sobbed inwardly and braced herself to
+withstand whatever was to come.
+
+_Mad!--mad!--mad!_
+
+But it meant nothing.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The building was not for tourists. It wasn't like the Pentagon or the
+White House or any of the other historical or glamour symbols in
+Washington, D.C. It was on a side street, and while no one associated it
+with governmental activity, it was of a size and importance that
+justified a uniformed attendant in the lobby.
+
+He was a hard-bitten old Irishman named Callahan, and nobody got past
+him without justification. Also, he was a man of robust hates and great
+loyalties; a man whom Brent Taber was honored to call friend.
+
+He was also a man Brent Taber was waiting to hear from.
+
+The call came late in the afternoon of the day following Charles
+Blackwell's search for his would-be brother. Taber picked up the phone.
+
+"It's me--Callahan. He's here, Mr. Taber."
+
+"Thanks. I'll be right over."
+
+"And be hurrying right along if you want to get here in time. He's not
+one to be restrained indefinitely."
+
+"Tell him the elevator's busted."
+
+Brent Taber slammed the phone down and left. He used an elevator this
+time and went across town in a cab. Even then, he was almost too late.
+As he arrived at his destination, Senator Crane was protesting loudly.
+
+"It's just plain stupidity. Elevators don't quit running for no reason.
+Find a burnt-out fuse. Do something! And do it quick or I'll phone
+somebody who will!"
+
+"Well, I'll be blessed," Callahan said, completely crest-fallen. "It
+was the switch, Senator. The blessed switch was off."
+
+"Well, turn it on and get me up to ten."
+
+"Good afternoon, Senator."
+
+Crane whirled. "Brent Taber!" He threw a quick scowl at Callahan and was
+on the verge of accusing the Irishman of high treason, but he said, "All
+right. I'm glad you're here, Taber. We might as well get this thing
+into the open. Are you going to take me to room ten twenty-six or do I
+have to take steps to force your co-operation?"
+
+Taber stared morosely at Crane's nose. "Why, Senator, where did you get
+the idea my department wouldn't help a member of Congress to the
+utmost?"
+
+"None of your sarcasm. Let's go upstairs."
+
+"All right, Callahan. Let's go upstairs."
+
+They got off on ten and walked down the corridor. "Ten twenty-eight, you
+said?"
+
+"You know damned well what I said."
+
+Taber opened the door. He stood aside. Crane walked in and stopped dead.
+He again whirled on Crane.
+
+"It's empty."
+
+"That's right. I could have told you downstairs but you wouldn't have
+believed me. What were you looking for? New quarters?"
+
+"Taber, I'll break you for this! If you think you can thwart the will of
+the United States Senate--"
+
+"You've been doing a pretty good job of breaking already."
+
+"I haven't even begun!"
+
+"That still doesn't tell me what you thought you'd find."
+
+"Quit being cute. This time yesterday there were cadavers in here. This
+was a laboratory!"
+
+Brent looked wearily at his watch. "You're wrong, Senator. This place
+was vacated exactly an hour and fifteen minutes after your stooge used
+his court order to locate the cadavers."
+
+"Then you admit you defied a court order--"
+
+"Oh, come off of it. The court order said nothing about leaving things
+as they were. But that's not important. The important thing is that you
+give me some understanding and sympathy."
+
+This obviously astounded Crane. "From you? That from the cocky,
+self-sufficient Brent Taber? That's a little different tune from the one
+you sang in your office, not too long ago."
+
+"All right. I'll concede that. Let's say you've got me licked. I'll
+admit I should have reacted a little less arrogantly. My nerves were
+shot. I'd been up late too often. Now I'm ready to be reasonable."
+
+Crane was scowling. "This isn't like you, Taber--not like you at all.
+I'm suspicious. Why are you suddenly so agreeable?"
+
+"Because I believe the nation--the world--is in great danger. I think we
+should all realize that danger and work together."
+
+"Then why have you been fighting me?"
+
+"Because I honestly felt it was the best thing to do. I've changed my
+mind. I'm willing to tell you the whole story."
+
+"I've heard the whole story. I--"
+
+"Then it was you who had my office taped."
+
+"Exactly. I'm not ashamed of it. When I'm fighting for my constituents I
+use every weapon at my command."
+
+Brent Taber regarded Crane narrowly. "I underestimated your abilities,
+Senator. That was fast work. Twenty minutes after I refused you
+permission to attend that meeting, you had your man briefed and in
+action. It was the waiter who brought in the coffee, wasn't it?"
+
+Before Crane could answer, Taber gestured and said, "Never mind. That's
+not important. You've heard the tape, so tell me--what do you want from
+me? How can I earn your co-operation?"
+
+"Quite simply, Taber. By recognizing my authority as a United States
+Senator. By keeping me briefed on your progress against this terrible
+thing that menaces our people. By accepting my active co-operation in
+destroying it."
+
+"What exactly do you mean by _active_?"
+
+"Just what the word implies. Have the men on the senatorial committee
+you briefed been at all active in helping you?"
+
+"Frankly, no."
+
+"Then what right have they to expect any rewards--shall we say?--for
+their efforts?"
+
+"You may have a point."
+
+"I believe in rewards where rewards are due."
+
+"And you want--?"
+
+"In plain terms, the right to association in the public mind with the
+effort to protect the nation."
+
+"You want favorable publicity if and when this matter makes headlines?"
+
+"Is that too much to ask?"
+
+Brent Taber suddenly seemed lost and, in truth, he was wondering why in
+hell he'd approached Crane in this way. He felt ashamed for even
+considering the possibility of bending to the will of a windbag like
+Crane. _Good Lord_, he thought, _I must be tired. I was on the point of
+playing the jellyfish._
+
+Abruptly his voice sharpened. "I'm sorry, I can't promise you that."
+
+"Taber, you're a fool! I'll get it anyhow. I told you I'd break you if
+you got in my way, and you've been almost discredited already. Don't you
+know when to quit?"
+
+"Maybe that's my trouble, Senator. Maybe I'm bull-headed. Anyhow, right
+or wrong, I'll play out this string to the end. Good day--and I hope you
+enjoy your new offices."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+An hour later, back at his own phone, Taber got a second call from
+Callahan. "There's another one."
+
+"Another one? I don't follow you."
+
+"A photographer from New York City. He's being real cagey, this one, but
+I know the breed. The kind that's so stupid-clever he outsmarts
+himself."
+
+"What's he after?"
+
+"Sounds to me like he wants the same thing as the Senator."
+
+"Hmmm," Taber mused. "Those are mighty popular cadavers, aren't they,
+Callahan?"
+
+"I'm blessed if they aren't."
+
+"All right. You tell Mr. King--that is his name, isn't it?"
+
+"You've got good eyesight--reading a blasted press card from clear
+across town."
+
+"I'm clairvoyant, Callahan. Tell you what you do--give me fifteen
+minutes to make a phone call and then send him after the bodies."
+
+"To the right place?"
+
+"To the right place. And hold out for a good price. Get what the traffic
+will bear. I'd say maybe fifty dollars. Allow yourself to be bribed real
+good."
+
+"I'll do that."
+
+
+
+
+11
+
+
+As with Rhoda Kane's mind, Les King's seemed to be divided into two
+sections. One of these kept him in a state of perpetual uneasiness at
+what the other was forcing him to do. He realized that venting your
+frustrations against bureaucrats was one thing, but actively engaging in
+dangerous snooping was quite another.
+
+In the moments of uncertainty after John Dennis sent him to Washington,
+D.C. with orders to get his hands on certain data, Les King bolstered
+his courage by telling himself that, what the hell, he'd planned all
+along to go right ahead and dig out the complete android through
+whatever means possible. Therefore, meeting and teaming up with Dennis
+had been a big break.
+
+The rationalization wasn't too comforting, though, because he knew he
+could never have gone ahead on his own. Also, he realized he and Dennis
+weren't a team at all. Dennis ordered; he obeyed. Still, the sense of
+excitement Dennis generated in him had its effect on the other part of
+his mind, and this was the stronger; this held sway. Somehow, there was
+the certainty that Dennis did not make mistakes; that everything would
+work out.
+
+This conviction was jarred a little when he got past the lobby man in
+the Washington building--a feat easily accomplished--climbed ten flights
+of stairs, and found room ten twenty-eight empty. Obviously, Dennis had
+goofed.
+
+King's first instinct was to retreat as quietly as he'd advanced; to get
+away from the place and report failure to Dennis. But as he went back
+downstairs, the thought of Dennis' disapproval began weighing more
+heavily. Maybe something unforeseen had happened. Maybe he could still
+pull this one out of the fire.
+
+With this hope foremost in his mind, he went into the lobby, assumed a
+bold front, and demanded: "Where in the hell did the people in ten
+twenty-eight go?"
+
+And the front worked. The lobby man, a big Irishman, was so impressed he
+didn't even ask King how he'd gotten into the building. He blinked
+politely and said, "Blessed if I'm not new here myself. This is my first
+day. What room was it?"
+
+Then the big Irishman went to a phone to check, and came back with a
+Georgetown address written out on a slip of paper. Georgetown seemed
+like an unlikely place to find cadavers and, under normal conditions,
+King would have been highly suspicious of the whole thing. But what the
+hell? Nothing was normal about this project, so why not follow through?
+
+_King, you're crazy. You're out of your stupid mind._
+
+He raised his hand and a cab cut in toward the curb.
+
+When he arrived at the address, he found himself standing on the walk in
+front of a large, imposing house. The place still seemed unlikely but
+you never could tell. The way things were these days, any house in
+whatever neighborhood was a potential location for almost anything. The
+way this one was laid out, there could possibly have been a laboratory
+in the back. A narrow walk led in that direction and, instead of
+climbing the front steps, King followed it around the corner and found a
+basement door at the foot of a flight of steps.
+
+He hesitated before ringing the bell. What kind of an approach would he
+use? The idea was to get inside and see the layout--spot the office, the
+file cabinets. The feature-story bit? It might work, but who the hell
+lived here? He'd checked the mailbox beside the front porch but there'd
+been no name.
+
+Deciding he could only play it by ear, he pulled in his diaphragm and
+rang the bell.
+
+The door opened quickly--too quickly, it seemed--and King realized he'd
+struck a pay lode in the myopic-looking little jerk who stood peering
+out at him. The guy wore a white laboratory coat with two bloodstains on
+it and was holding a scalpel in his hand.
+
+"I'm Doctor Entman. Can I help you?"
+
+Entman--Entman--for Christ sake. Oh, sure, a neurologist. Had to be the
+same guy. International authority. The _Times_ once did a feature on his
+arrival at Idlewild. UN stuff.
+
+"I'm King of the _Herald Tribune_," Les said, lying easily.
+"We're shaping up a feature on the more advanced neurological
+techniques--Sunday supplement material. They sent me down to see if
+you'd give us some of your views."
+
+"I'd be delighted. Come in. Come in."
+
+"I'm not imposing on your time, I hope."
+
+"Not at all!"
+
+The guy was almost too cordial, but what the hell? All their noses
+twitched at the smell of publicity.
+
+Entman led him down a cement-floored corridor, the smell of formaldehyde
+thickening as they went, then into a small office with an open door, on
+the far side through which Les King was confronted with a frankly
+gruesome sight--a dissecting room with parts of cadavers lying around
+like orders in a meat packer's shipping room.
+
+"Won't you sit down, please? There by the desk."
+
+As Entman gestured, he noted King's reaction to the sight and the smell
+of the dissecting room.
+
+"Just a moment. I'll close that door."
+
+"No, don't bother, Doctor. I'd better get the authentic atmosphere. It
+makes a better story."
+
+"I admire your courage, young man."
+
+King pointed toward the room. "Something important?"
+
+"Routine--only routine."
+
+Then, to Les King's practiced eye, Entman proved it wasn't routine at
+all by entering the laboratory and gathering up a loose pile of notes
+lying there on a table. He seemed to momentarily forget King's presence
+as he went through the notes, sorted them carefully, and brought them
+back into the office.
+
+King watched as Entman then deposited them in a small safe. He closed
+the safe but didn't lock it. Then he turned, beamed myopically at his
+visitor, and said, "Now I'm at your service, young man."
+
+"Fine, Doctor. Now, this series we're planning will highlight modern
+techniques with an eye to illustrating ..."
+
+While King asked questions and Entman answered, another part of King's
+mind was busy with the real problem at hand. Entman would, no doubt,
+lock the safe before he left the office. Burglary--a risk King was
+willing to take--would get him back into the office when no one was
+around, but how could he open the safe? Walking straight to the thing he
+was after had been fine. Having been put in a position to get to know
+what the notes looked like was another astounding piece of good fortune.
+All this, however, could turn out to mean nothing because he didn't know
+how to crack a safe.
+
+He would have to report failure after being so close.
+
+"As I said," Entman prattled on happily, "when I was at Johns Hopkins
+I--"
+
+The desk phone rang. Entman picked it up, answered it and then hung up.
+"Would I impose if I asked you for a fifteen-minute break? Some people
+are calling that I must see--an appointment I forgot."
+
+"Not at all," Les King assured him. "I'd like to do a little work on
+these notes to see if I left out anything."
+
+"So good of you. Boring people, really. I'll get rid of them as soon as
+possible."
+
+Entman left through an inner door and King was stunned by his good luck.
+He called it that even while experience and judgment shrieked warnings.
+This was too pat--too easy. Something was phony in the setup.
+
+But he didn't even have to fight what common sense was telling him. He
+was too busy opening the safe, spreading the data out on the desktop,
+and using a small camera he carried in the side pocket of his jacket.
+
+Then, he put the data back in the safe and felt the hot, excitement
+surge up through his body.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I'm afraid I owe you a drink," Entman said ruefully.
+
+"You were right. When I got back to the office, he was gone."
+
+Brent Taber grinned, but only with his mouth--his eyes remained somber
+and weary. "The data was back in the safe?"
+
+"Right where I put it. I'll swear it hadn't been moved."
+
+"He was photographing it thirty seconds after you left."
+
+"But how can you be sure?"
+
+Brent Taber pulled at his ear and stared at a Renoir on the wall of
+Entman's drawing room without seeing it. "I can't, of course. We can't
+be sure of anything. It's all based on an idea you gave me."
+
+"What idea?"
+
+"You told me the results of your research on the androids would be
+valuable to whoever built them--as a guide to perfecting androids that
+wouldn't die under earth conditions."
+
+"That was obvious logic."
+
+"And it ties in with another thought. A race of beings as advanced as
+these could take us over without trouble, it would seem."
+
+"Quite true. Except--"
+
+"Except that they themselves may not be able to exist on earth, either;
+no more so than we could exist on the moon without creating conditions
+favorable to our physical capabilities."
+
+"So ...?"
+
+"So I'm betting that the ten androids were sent here on a
+trial-and-error basis, with the objective of perfecting them and
+creating an android army to move in and take us over."
+
+"It's a thought, but with their power they could achieve the same result
+with less effort by pulverizing us. Or so it would seem to me."
+
+"True, but maybe they don't want us pulverized; maybe they'd rather take
+over a working planet than a lot of rubble."
+
+"All that follows logically," Entman admitted, "provided the original
+hypothesis is true--that they cannot invade us in person."
+
+"Right. But I've got to start somewhere and hope I'm on the right
+track."
+
+"One thing occurs to me. Eight of the androids died and one was killed.
+What if all ten had succumbed? How did they plan to get their data?"
+
+"Who knows? I'm not saying the idea is foolproof. But a certain amount
+of risk had to be involved. If the ten died, they would have missed.
+Maybe they'd try again in that case. But they were lucky--one survived."
+
+Entman was peering thoughtfully at nothing. "Your idea is bolstered by
+the fact that the androids were found all over the country. They could
+have been testing various climates."
+
+"But it's weakened by the creatures being found in cities--the least
+likely places to escape detection. Why didn't they stay in isolated
+sections?"
+
+Entman smiled. "I like the way you reach out for arguments against your
+own theory, but you reached too far for that one. If they'd done that,
+who would find the androids and do the research work?"
+
+Brent Taber brightened. "You comfort me, Doctor. That little thread got
+lost in my maze. They wanted the creatures to be found. They didn't
+expect to fool us. Why else would the one in Chicago go brazenly into a
+tavern, start to drink and then get into an argument?"
+
+"That's right. The argument must have been started deliberately." Entman
+beamed on Taber. "I think we deserve another Scotch."
+
+Entman poured the drink. He looked kindly at Taber as he handed it to
+him, and made what seemed an abrupt change in subject. "They're giving
+you a very hard time, aren't they, son?"
+
+Taber considered the question as he downed a healthy belt from the
+glass. "I guess you could call it that. I'm getting pretty unpopular in
+some places. As a matter of fact, I've wondered why you stick by me."
+
+Entman poured himself a drink. "That hurts me a little, son."
+
+"I'm sorry. It's getting so I don't even know how to treat a friend."
+
+Entman raised his glass in salute. "I'm afraid this sentimental
+chit-chat doesn't become either of us. Let's go back to our friend from
+the _Herald Tribune_. You're sure he photographed the data?"
+
+"I think we can depend on it."
+
+"When I got your call, I acted as fast as I could. The data looks
+authentic, I'm sure, but it was a quick job of fiction. Now I'd like to
+know the rest--whatever you didn't have time to tell me."
+
+"It's still a logic-chain, with some pretty flimsy strands in some
+places, but I'm afraid I'm stuck with it. King was greedy and hungry
+when I first talked to him, but I think I scared him off. I think, left
+to himself, he would have let the thing alone.
+
+"So I was surprised when he showed up at the old location. My first
+thought was that Crane had sent him. It would have been logical--Crane
+sending a man to try and find out where we'd taken the cadavers he
+obviously wants to get his hands on.
+
+"But I couldn't connect Crane with King. I couldn't figure how Crane
+could have known of King's existence." Taber paused to drink and grin
+his humorless grin. "So I made a daring leap. If it had to be someone
+else, why not the tenth android himself?"
+
+Entman frowned as he toyed with the idea. "Why, good lord--!"
+
+"You said yourself that the androids probably possessed extraordinary
+powers."
+
+"Yes, but--"
+
+"All right. If we accept the need-of-data theory, which we have to, what
+would the tenth android be doing? Trying to get his hands on it. He
+could conceivably have made contact with King. King took a picture of
+the ninth android. Our still able and functioning number ten found his
+way to Doctor Corson's room in Greenwich Village and demolished number
+nine, for reasons of his own, so he could have made contact with King,
+put him under domination, and sent him after the data."
+
+"How could he know where the data was?"
+
+Taber shrugged. "I said there were some pretty weak strings in my logic.
+But it so shaped, as I saw it, where it would stand or smash on one
+point. If King had waited in your office for your return, I would have
+been forced to assume he was there on his own. But he left, so I'm going
+to figure he took what he came for--the bait you dangled under his
+nose."
+
+"That brings up a question in my mind. If you're right, King will now
+make contact with the android, will he not?"
+
+"I assume he will."
+
+"And that will give you a chance to capture him and have the whole ten
+accounted for?"
+
+"I don't want him until he sends the data back to whoever is waiting for
+it."
+
+"You'd like to have them build their synthetic army on the
+specifications I made out?"
+
+"I'd dearly love that."
+
+"Do you know where to contact King again?"
+
+"He's being tailed. They stripped me, but I still have two men left."
+
+"You're being treated miserably!" Entman scowled. "I'm going to talk to
+some people about this. I refuse to allow--"
+
+"Thanks, but not for a while. I've shaped my operation on a one-man
+basis. I'd be embarrassed if they relented. I wouldn't know what to do
+with all the men."
+
+Entman's little eyes shone with affection. "I can only wish you good
+luck."
+
+"Thanks. I'll need it."
+
+"And one more thing I was wondering."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"Why do you suppose the tenth android killed the one in the Village?"
+
+"Another case of taking one reason for want of a better one. I think it
+was his way of delivering the creature to us for research. He couldn't
+know for sure that we already had his 'brothers.'"
+
+"You're right--you must be," Entman agreed.
+
+"Small consolation. I'd like a few facts to go on for a change instead
+of having to depend on logic all the time," Taber growled.
+
+"What are you referring to?"
+
+"The data. I'm assuming, _if_ that's what's important, that the tenth
+creature has a way of getting the stuff back up there."
+
+"I can help a little on that," Entman said. "I can assure you that from
+what I've found in those brains, the data could, most likely, be sent
+mentally."
+
+"You're sure of that?"
+
+"I've found a certain part of those brains developed in a peculiar
+way--"
+
+Taber smiled. "You're sure of that?"
+
+"Well ... that's my theory. It would appear logical that--"
+
+Taber leaned forward suddenly and extended his glass, the grin on his
+face showing some genuine humor. "Let's have another drink, Doctor. Then
+I'll go. I love the factual way this Scotch of yours hits my stomach."
+
+
+
+
+12
+
+
+Frank Corson entered the office of Wilson Maynard, Superintendent of
+Park Hill Hospital. Maynard looked out over the tops of his
+old-fashioned pince-nez glasses and said, "Oh, Doctor Corson. You phoned
+for a chat."
+
+It was the rather pompous superintendent's way of saying he was happy to
+give Frank Corson a little time. He considered all the doctors and
+nurses at Park Hill his "boys and girls," and he did the "father" bit
+very well.
+
+"Yes, I--"
+
+Maynard peered even harder. "You don't look well, Frank. Pale. You've
+been working too hard."
+
+"Nothing important, Doctor Maynard."
+
+"Sit down. Will you have a cigarette?"
+
+"No, thank you. I just wanted to ask you about a transfer."
+
+"A transfer!" This was amazing. "Aren't you happy at Park Hill?"
+
+"I've been very happy."
+
+Maynard went swiftly through a card file on his desk. "You have--let's
+see--five more months of internship. Then--"
+
+"Then I'd planned to enter private practice. But something personal has
+come up and I think a change is for the best."
+
+"I'm certainly sorry to hear that."
+
+"One of the men I graduated with went to a hospital in a small Minnesota
+town. We've corresponded and he's given me a pretty clear picture--a
+nice town, a need for doctors and physicians--"
+
+"But we need them here in the East, too."
+
+"I realize that, and I'm making the move with some regret. But, frankly,
+New York City no longer appeals to me. I think perhaps a small hospital
+is more suited to my temperament."
+
+"I'm certainly sorry to hear this, Corson. But I won't try to dissuade
+you. Normally, I might bring a little more personal pressure to bear,
+but I sense that your mind is made up. We're sorry to see you go, but
+the best of luck to you."
+
+"Thank you, sir."
+
+After Frank Corson left, Superintendent Maynard sorted a memo out of the
+pile on his desk. The memo concerned Frank Corson. Superintendent
+Maynard reread it and thought how well things usually worked out. Now it
+wouldn't be necessary to have that talk with Corson about sloppy work.
+Obviously there had been something on the young intern's mind for weeks
+now. Too bad. But let the Minnesota hospital, wherever it was, worry
+about the trouble and perhaps put Corson on the right track again.
+
+He was their baby now.
+
+Maynard took Corson's card from the files and wrote across it: _Transfer
+approved with regret._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brent Taber stood in the shelter of a doorway on the Lower East Side of
+Manhattan and watched an entrance across the street. He had been there
+for over an hour.
+
+Another hour passed and Taber shifted from one aching foot to the other
+as a man in a blue suit emerged from the entrance and moved off down the
+street.
+
+When the man had turned a corner, Taber crossed over and looked up at
+the brownstone. It was a perfect place to hide--one of the many rooming
+houses in the city where, if you paid your rent and kept your peace, no
+one cared who you were or where you came from.
+
+Not even, Taber reflected, if you had been born in a laboratory and had
+come from someplace among the stars.
+
+He climbed the steps of the brownstone and tried the knob. The door
+opened. He went inside and found himself in a drab, dark hall furnished
+with an umbrella stand, a worn carpet, and a table spread with mail.
+
+There was a bell on the table. He tapped it and, after a lazy length of
+time, a shapeless woman came through a door on the right and regarded
+him with no great show of cordiality.
+
+"Nothing vacant, mister. Everything I've got is rented."
+
+"I wasn't looking for a room. I'm just doing a little checking."
+
+"My license is okay," the woman said belligerently. "The place is clean
+and orderly."
+
+"That's not what I'm checking about. There's been some counterfeit money
+passed in this neighborhood and we're trying to trace it down."
+
+The woman had a pronounced mustache that quivered at this news.
+"Counterfeit! My roomers are honest."
+
+"I'm sure they are. But some people carry counterfeit money without
+knowing it. Do they all pay in cash?"
+
+"Only two of them."
+
+"Men or women?"
+
+"One girl--Katy Wynn."
+
+"Where does she work?"
+
+"Down in Wall Street."
+
+"Not much chance we're interested. This money has been turning up around
+Times Square."
+
+"The other's a man--quiet, no trouble, pays his rent right on the dot
+every week. John Dennis his name is and he doesn't look like no
+counterfeiter."
+
+Taber took a forward step. "What's his room number?"
+
+"Six--on the second floor. But he isn't in now. He just went out."
+
+"Okay. Maybe I'll be back. As I said, we don't suspect anybody. We're
+just checking for sources."
+
+Taber turned toward the door. The woman vanished back into her own
+quarters as Taber snapped the lock. He stood in the vestibule for a
+minute or two, studying some cards he took from his pocket, and when she
+did not reappear, he opened the door, went back in, and climbed the
+stairs.
+
+The door to number six was not locked. Taber went inside. The window was
+small and gave on an areaway. He could see nothing until he turned on
+the light. Even then, he could see nothing of interest--the room was
+ordinary in every sense.
+
+But as Brent Taber checked it out, some unusual aspects became apparent.
+There were two pieces of luggage in the closet. One, an oversized
+suitcase, stood on end.
+
+And jammed neatly down behind it was the body of Les King. His throat
+had been cut.
+
+Brent Taber stared down into the closet for what seemed like an
+interminable time. His eyes were bleak and his mouth was grim and stiff
+as he passed a slow hand along his jaw.
+
+He took a long, backward step and closed his eyes for a moment as though
+hoping the whole improbable mess would go away. But it was still there
+when he opened them again.
+
+He turned, went downstairs, and took the receiver off the phone on the
+wall by the front door.
+
+The shapeless landlady came out again. She scowled at Taber. "What are
+you doing here?"
+
+He regarded her with a kind of affectionate weariness. "Have you got a
+dime, lady?"
+
+Gaping, she pawed into her apron pocket and handed him a coin.
+
+"Thanks much." He dialed. "Is Captain Abrams there?"
+
+There was a wait, during which Brent Taber asked the oddly bemused
+landlady: "Are you afraid of the dead?"
+
+But before she could decide whether she was or not, Taber turned to the
+phone. "Captain?.... That's right, Brent Taber ... No, right, here in
+Manhattan. There's been a little trouble. You'd better come over
+personally."
+
+He turned to the landlady. "What's the address here, sister?"
+
+And later, with the landlady back in her lair, Brent Taber sat down on
+the stairs to wait; sat there with surprise at the feeling of relief
+that filled his mind. He had no feeling of triumph about it; no sense of
+a job well done. But there was no great guilt at having failed, either.
+
+Mostly, he thought, it was the simplification that had come about. There
+had been so many confusing and bewildering complications in the affair;
+improbability piled on the impossible; the ridiculous coupled with the
+incredible.
+
+But now, with one stroke of a knife, it had been simplified and brought
+into terms everyone could understand; into terms Captain Abrams of the
+New York Police Department would grasp in an instant.
+
+A killer was on the loose.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+One of Senator Crane's priceless gifts was a sense of timing. Much of
+his success had sprung from the instinctive knowledge of when to act. He
+had a sense of the dramatic which never deserted him. As a result, he
+had been known to turn in an instant from one subject to another--to
+dodge defeats and score triumphs with bewildering agility.
+
+His preoccupation on this particular day was with a home-state
+issue--the location of a government plant. After he obtained the floor,
+he counted the house and noted that only a bare quorum was present.
+Gradually, the members of the Senate of the United States would drift to
+their seats. So Crane began reading letters which tended to support his
+state's claim to the new plant and the benefits that would accrue
+therefrom.
+
+Crane droned on. The Vice-President of the United States looked down on
+the top of Senator Crane's massive head and became fruitfully
+preoccupied with thoughts of his own.
+
+Then, quite suddenly, the line of Crane's exposition changed. The
+Vice-President wasn't quite sure at what precise point this had come
+about. He wasn't aware of the change until some very strange words
+penetrated:
+
+" ... so, therefore, it has become starkly apparent that the American
+people have been denied the information which would have made them
+aware of their own deadly danger. Invasion from space is now imminent."
+
+The Vice-President tensed. Had the stupid idiot gone mad? Or had he, the
+Vice-President, been in a fog when vital, top-secret information had
+been made public?
+
+He banged the gavel down hard, for want of a better gesture, and was
+grateful when a tall, dignified man with a look of deepest concern on
+his face rose from behind his desk out on the floor.
+
+"Will the Senator yield to his distinguished colleague from
+Pennsylvania?"
+
+Crane turned, scowling. "I will yield to no man on matters of grave
+import." With that he turned and continued with his revelations. "The
+people of this nation have been deprived of the knowledge that the
+invasion from space has already begun. A vanguard of hideous, half-human
+creatures have even now achieved a beach-head on our planet. Even now,
+the evil hordes from beyond the stars ..."
+
+The Vice-President looked around in a daze. Had someone forgotten to
+brief him? Had that project come to a head overnight? The last he'd
+heard there had been much doubt as to--
+
+" ... The injustice perpetrated on the American people in this matter
+has been monstrous. And this is not because of any lack of knowledge on
+the part of the government. It has been because of the petty natures of
+the men to whom this secret has been entrusted. Jealousies have dictated
+policy where selfless public service was of the most vital importance
+..."
+
+The floor was filling up. The visitor's gallery was wrapped in hushed
+silence. Newsmen, informed of sensational developments, were rushing
+down corridors.
+
+And the Vice-President was wondering why he hadn't had the good sense to
+refuse the nomination.
+
+" ... These invaders from another planet are not strangers to the men in
+power. It is on record that they are inhuman monsters capable of killing
+without mercy--yet they are quite ordinary in appearance. They walk the
+streets, unsuspected, among us. It is on record right here in Washington
+that these creatures are not human but, rather, soulless androids,
+manufactured to destroy us, by a race so far ahead of us in scientific
+knowledge that we are like children by comparison ..."
+
+"Will the Senator yield to the Senator from Alabama?"
+
+"I will not. I refuse to be gagged in the process of acquainting the
+American people with facts upon which their very survival depends."
+
+The floor was crowded now. The press and the visitors' galleries were
+packed as Senator Crane's words continued to boom forth.
+
+And in the press gallery a reporter from the Sioux City _Clarion_ looked
+at a representative of the London _Times_, and said, "Good God! He's
+gone off his rocker!"
+
+The Englishman, aloof but definitely enthralled, touched his mustache
+delicately and answered, "Quite."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frank Corson rang the bell and waited at the door of Rhoda Kane's
+apartment. The door opened. She wore a pale blue brunch coat. Her hair
+glowed in the light of midmorning, but her face was pale and a little
+drawn.
+
+Her eyes were slightly red, as though she might have been crying.
+
+"Hello, Rhoda."
+
+"Hello, Frank."
+
+"I really didn't expect to find you. I was going to write a note and
+slip it under the door."
+
+"I didn't feel well today so I didn't go to work."
+
+"May I come in?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+Inside, a shadow of concern moved like a quick cloud across her
+beautiful face. "You don't look well, Frank."
+
+"I'm quite all right, really. Haven't been sleeping too well, but
+there's been a lot on my mind."
+
+"I've been hoping you'd phone."
+
+"I wanted to but there didn't seem to be anything to say. Nothing except
+that I'm sorry I let you down so miserably."
+
+"Frank! You didn't. You really didn't. It was just that--oh, it's not
+important any more."
+
+"No. It's not important now."
+
+"Would you like a drink?"
+
+"Thanks, no. I've come to say good-bye."
+
+"Good-bye?"
+
+"Yes. I'm leaving Park Hill--leaving New York. I'm going into a small
+Minnesota hospital to finish my internship. Then I'll probably practice
+out there somewhere."
+
+Behind the new glitter of her eyes there was stark misery.
+"Frank--Frank--what went wrong with us?"
+
+The appeal was a labored whisper.
+
+"I don't know, Rhoda. I should know but I don't. I should have known
+what was wrong so I could have done something about it. It just went
+sour, I guess."
+
+She turned and walked to the window. He wondered if there were tears in
+her eyes.
+
+"Good-bye, Rhoda."
+
+"Good-bye, Frank. I'm sorry."
+
+The door hadn't quite closed. Now, as Frank Corson turned, he found it
+open. A man stood there--a man in a blue suit with empty eyes.
+
+Frank stared at the man for long seconds. His eyes went toward the
+window. Rhoda had turned. She was watching the man in the doorway,
+looking past Frank at the creature from somewhere in space who was
+neither man nor machine. _But how--?_ Frank Corson asked himself the
+question. _Good God! How had this thing come about?_
+
+"Not--not _him_," he finally exploded.
+
+Rhoda was walking forward. The look of fevered excitement was in her
+eyes. "Please leave, Frank." She did not look at him as she spoke. She
+kept her eyes on the man in the blue suit.
+
+"Not him!"
+
+"Please leave, Frank."
+
+But it was too late. The door had closed. The man was looking at Frank.
+"Sit down," he said.
+
+Frank Corson sat down. He saw the man and he saw Rhoda, but they seemed
+unimportant. Something had happened to his mind and he was busy
+struggling with it. That was all that was important.
+
+The strange lethargy that came like a cloud over his mind was beyond
+understanding.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Captain Abrams looked into the closet and back at Brent Taber. His lips
+were back a little off his teeth. With Abrams, this indicated anger.
+
+"All right. What does Washington do about this one? Does Washington tell
+us to be good little boys and go hand out parking tickets?"
+
+"It wasn't like that," Taber said.
+
+"It doesn't much matter how it was. The thing is--how is it going to be
+now?"
+
+"You got a murder, friend. Plain and simple. What do the New York police
+do when they get a murder?"
+
+Abrams spoke bitterly. "Sometimes they let a panel truck drive in and
+haul the body away and that's that."
+
+"Let's save the sarcasm until later. I called you in. It's your case.
+What do you want me to do?"
+
+"Talk a little, maybe. The other one--now this one. The same killer?"
+
+"I think so."
+
+"What does he look like?"
+
+"Medium height. One-eighty. Around forty. And dangerous."
+
+"Dangerous, he says," Abrams muttered. "Any idea where we might go to
+have a little talk with him?"
+
+"No, can't say that I have."
+
+"Try the streets of Manhattan--is that it?"
+
+"I guess that's about it." Taber paused. "Wait a minute. If he's looking
+for a spot to hide in he wouldn't come back here and he certainly
+wouldn't try King's room. There's just a wide-open chance he might have
+another location. Wait a minute while I look up an address."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+An hour after he'd finished delivering his speech on the floor of the
+Senate, Crane held a press conference in one of Washington's most
+important hotels. The place was crowded. He stood on a platform, looked
+out over a sea of heads, and pointed at an upraised hand for the first
+question.
+
+"Senator, have you gotten any reaction from the people of your state on
+the revelations contained in your speech?"
+
+"There has been very little time, but telegrams have been pouring in."
+
+"What is the reaction?"
+
+"Frankly, I haven't had time to read them. However, I think there is
+little doubt as to the mood of my people. They will be indignant and
+angry at Washington bungling."
+
+He pointed to another hand.
+
+"Senator, granting the details you outlined are accurate, have you any
+knowledge as to--"
+
+"Young man. _Every_ detail I outlined was completely accurate." Senator
+Crane withered the reporter with a hostile look and pointed elsewhere.
+
+"Senator, did you consult with the people responsible for handling the
+situation before making your speech?"
+
+"I tried. I was willing to co-operate in every way, but my patience ran
+out. Also, I was alarmed at the bungling and inefficiency I saw. For
+that reason I went straight to the people with my story."
+
+"Senator, I have a wire from the governor of your state. It just arrived
+in response to my query as to his attitude on this affair. The governor
+says, quote, _No comment_, unquote. Would _you_ care to comment on his
+statement?"
+
+Senator Crane thought he heard a faint ripple of mirth drift across the
+room. But, of course, he had to be mistaken. "I think the governor
+replied wisely. I expect to return home and confer with him as soon as
+possible."
+
+"Senator, can you explain why, out of all the able, sincere officials in
+Washington, D.C., elected or otherwise, you were the only one with
+enough wisdom and courage to put this matter before the people?"
+
+"Young man, I am not going to pass judgment on anyone in Washington or
+elsewhere. Each of us, I'm sure, does his duty as he sees it."
+
+Again it seemed to Senator Crane that he heard a ripple of mirth--louder
+this time. It had to be something to do with the acoustics. Except that
+he was suddenly aware of smiles, too. The next question had to do with
+possible consultation with Russia on the matter of the coming space
+invasion.
+
+Senator Crane agreed that such consultation should be made and then
+retired hastily into seclusion. A touch of panic hit him. He felt like a
+man who was far out in the water without a boat, with the closest land a
+few hundred feet straight down. Good God! Had he miscalculated? Of
+course not. He had only to await the verdict of the nation's top
+newspapers before proceeding with the publicity program that might well
+make him presidential timber.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+John Dennis, for the first time since Rhoda had known him, seemed
+nervous. He kept licking his lips and shifting his eyes from Rhoda to
+Frank Corson.
+
+Frank Corson sat quietly, keeping his thoughts to himself. Rhoda crossed
+to the liquor cabinet and poured a double Scotch. She went to the sofa
+and sat down a little uncertainly.
+
+"I guess you two haven't met. John, this is Frank Corson."
+
+John Dennis paid no attention. He walked to the sofa, sat down, and took
+a sheaf of notes from his jacket pocket.
+
+"I've known Mr. Dennis for quite some time," Frank commented wryly.
+
+"Be quiet."
+
+John Dennis' tone was neither hostile nor friendly. They were the words
+of a person whose mind was on other things. They watched him as his eyes
+scanned the notes.
+
+He appeared to be memorizing them.
+
+The air became somewhat electric, the silence so deep it seemed to
+scream. Rhoda looked across at Frank Corson. Frank's expression was
+empty, as though he'd suffered some traumatic emotional blow and was
+struggling to recover.
+
+John Dennis stirred. He also appeared to be struggling. He turned his
+eyes on the drink Rhoda was holding. He took it out of her hand and
+downed it in a single gulp.
+
+They watched as he went back to work, leafing through the notes, one at
+a time. As he came close to the end, he lifted his head and shook it
+violently, as though from sudden pain. He scowled at the empty glass
+he'd handed back to Rhoda.
+
+"Do you want another?" she inquired.
+
+"Give me another."
+
+She poured a second Scotch and handed it to him. He drank it like so
+much water.
+
+The last sheet of notations was covered. Then John Dennis sat motionless
+for a minute, his frown and uncertainty returning. "It's hard to project
+the details," he said. "All this detail. Difficult."
+
+He dropped the last sheet and got up and poured himself another Scotch.
+"They will make an army now," he said. The Scotch went down smoothly. He
+went to the window and looked out. "This planet is different. The sun
+there is blue and the air is very thin. Their bodies are nothing, but
+their heads are very big. Now they will create an army and take this
+planet."
+
+Frank Corson was shaking his head slowly like a groggy fighter. Rhoda
+sat huddled on the sofa, her mind such a mixture of tumbling emotions
+that it seemed to be trying to tear itself out of her head. John Dennis
+came back and stood in the middle of the room. He swayed drunkenly. "So
+many things I don't understand. I see people I know--or I should know.
+I--" He turned his eyes--eyes no longer empty--on Rhoda.
+
+"I want to make love!"
+
+Frank Corson got up from his chair and hurled himself on Dennis.
+
+Rhoda screamed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Senator Crane sat at his desk. There were a pile of newspapers in front
+of him. The first one carried a front page story with the headline:
+
+  SENATOR CRANE WARNS OF SPACE INVASION
+
+  SHADES OF ORSON WELLS' MARTIAN
+  SCARE STALKS CAPITOL CORRIDORS.
+
+Crane tossed the paper aside listlessly and picked up the second one:
+
+  SENATORS VOICE CONCERN FOR SANITY
+  OF COLLEAGUE
+
+  CRANE IN STUNNING TIRADE
+  WARNS OF SCIENCE-FICTION
+  DISASTER.
+
+The third paper featured an internationally syndicated columnist, famous
+for his biting wit:
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Senator Crane today launched a one-man campaign to make America
+space-conscious. If there was any Madison Avenue thinking behind the
+launching it was certainly lower Madison Avenue.
+
+In order to make his point--exactly what this was confused a vast
+roomful of newspapermen--the Senator invented a race of creatures called
+androids. These androids, it seems, look exactly like Tom Smith down the
+block except that they'd just as soon cut your throat as not.
+
+We fear the Senator must have been watching the wrong television
+shows--knives yet, ugh!--possibly _Jim Bowie_, because there wasn't a
+ray gun nor a disintegrator in his whole bag of exhibits.
+
+All in all, it would appear that the project was pointed toward making
+the people Senator Crane-conscious rather than aiming their attention at
+the deadly heavens.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Senator Crane put that paper aside and looked at the next. This one,
+more so than all the rest, was completely factual:
+
+  SENATOR CRANE DELUGED WITH WIRES
+  FROM HOME
+
+  CONSTITUENTS CLAIM WASHINGTON RIDICULE
+  HEAPED ON SENATOR REFLECTS AGAINST STATE.
+
+  Crane dropped the paper and got up from the desk.
+  That son-of-a-bitch Taber was to blame for this. Shaping
+  up a goddamn hoax and feeding it out piecemeal. By
+  God--!
+
+He went to the desk and dialed, and when the answer came he said,
+"Halliday? Senator Crane here. I want to have a little talk with you
+about that damned tape. It's pretty obvious now that Taber planted it in
+a deliberate attempt to ... What's that? An appointment! Why, goddamn
+it, who the hell do you think you are?.... Fifteen minutes next
+Wednesday? You're talking to a United States Senator--"
+
+But Crane was no longer talking to Halliday. He had hung up.
+
+Crane dialed another number. A pleasant female voice said, "Matthew
+Porter's office."
+
+"This is Senator Crane. Put Porter on."
+
+"Just a moment."
+
+Crane waited. He waited for what seemed like ages, but a glance at his
+watch told him it had been less than five minutes. He disconnected and
+dialed again.
+
+"This is Crane. We got cut off. I want to talk to Porter."
+
+"I'm sorry but Mr. Porter has gone for the day."
+
+"Well, where can I reach him? It's important."
+
+"I'm sorry. Mr. Porter left no number."
+
+"When will he be back?"
+
+"He didn't say."
+
+Crane slammed the phone down. "The bastards!" he snarled. "The lousy,
+crummy bastards. Running like a pack of scared rats. Bureaucrats!
+Damned, cowardly, self-appointed opportunists!"
+
+He stopped cursing and sat for a while.
+
+When he got up and left the office he looked and felt old but he had
+faced a truth. It would not be necessary to campaign next year.
+
+It wouldn't be of any use.
+
+
+
+
+13
+
+
+John Dennis showed human surprise as Frank Corson lunged at him. He had
+either been lax in using the controlling power he'd been given, or else
+Frank Corson had an exceptional resistance.
+
+Dennis released Rhoda, swayed drunkenly under Frank Corson's clumsy
+football-type tackle, and swung his arm like a pivoting beam. The blow
+was a lucky one. His fist smashed low on Corson's jaw, numbing the
+nerves of his neck on the left side.
+
+Corson went down and, as he lay helpless, Dennis kicked him twice--once
+in the side and once, viciously effectively, in the head. Corson rolled
+over and lay still.
+
+Dennis looked down at him in a drunken daze. "They will make an army and
+bring it here."
+
+Rhoda, standing in the center of an emotional maelstrom, watched the
+struggle from the prison of her own horror. At that moment she was
+physically, mentally and spiritually ill; a human being caught in the
+midst of forces beyond her knowledge and control.
+
+Dennis laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. "I want to make love."
+
+"No--no. Please--"
+
+The drunkenness ebbed slightly and his eyes emptied. They looked into
+Rhoda's. She shivered. He took the neck of her brunch coat in his fist
+and jerked downward. She had just come from the shower when she'd first
+opened the door for Frank Corson, and the vicious denuding gesture left
+her completely naked.
+
+Dennis went clumsily to his knees, his arms around her, and he pulled
+her to the floor. She sobbed, but the tears were gone now and they were
+dry, wracking sobs.
+
+"Undress me."
+
+She fumbled with his jacket and pulled it off while he knelt there in
+anticipation of he knew not what; wondering, wanting, knowing only an
+urge he could not understand but which had become a compulsion.
+
+She took off his necktie and unbuttoned his shirt. Frank Corson stirred
+but did not regain consciousness. "Please," Rhoda said, "let me help
+him."
+
+In answer, Dennis put his arms around her and drew her to him. "We will
+make love."
+
+"Yes--yes, we will make love--"
+
+The ring of the doorbell was like thunder in the room. Dennis tensed,
+his eyes widened, and he got to his feet and stood swaying. Looking up
+at him, Rhoda saw a trapped animal, but the excitement was still there
+and she wanted to take him in her arms and hold him and protect him from
+the world.
+
+But he had forgotten her. A cunning sneer took the place of the
+slavering animal look and he ran to the kitchen to reappear moments
+later with a butcher knife in his hand.
+
+The bell rang again. Dennis snarled at the door and, in some kind of
+sheer ecstatic bravado, emitted a Tarzan roar.
+
+Instantly a weight hit the door from the outside. It shuddered but did
+not give. Dennis crouched, gripping his knife. Frank Corson staggered to
+his feet and hurled himself groggily at the android. Dennis roared
+again, pushed away and arced the knife at his throat.
+
+Rhoda screamed and lunged at Dennis' legs. "No! No! Stop it! Please!"
+
+Dennis teetered under her weight and the knife slanted downward across
+Frank's chest. It ripped a red gash as the door shuddered a third time.
+
+Dennis turned in that direction and crouched. The door splintered and
+flew open. Dennis lunged, like a line-bucking football player. He hit
+both Brent Taber and Captain Abrams simultaneously, sprawling them both
+and sending Abrams' gun spinning out of his hand.
+
+He leaped over them and dashed down the hall where the elevator man
+waited uncertainly, not sure whether to dispute the right of way or not.
+His indecision was fatal. Dennis wrapped an arm around his neck, pulled
+his head back and cut his throat with one slash of the knife.
+
+Captain Abrams' head had hit a doorjamb opposite the entrance to Rhoda's
+apartment. He stirred and tried to come erect but he was unable to make
+it.
+
+Brent Taber clawed the gun off the floor and came to one knee. He got
+off one shot as the elevator door was closing and saw the android spin
+away from the controls as the impact of the slug smashed the bone of his
+shoulder.
+
+Taber lunged to his feet and went for the stairs.
+
+There was no one in the lobby when he arrived there--no dead bodies,
+either. But on the sidewalk, in front of the building, a woman lay dead
+in a pool of blood.
+
+In a sick rage, Taber looked in both directions and saw the android dive
+through a group of people half a block away. He tipped them over like
+tenpins and ran on. Taber gripped the gun tight and started in pursuit.
+
+He could not fire because there was enough sidewalk traffic to make it
+dangerous. On ahead, the android's path was blocked by a man. He sought
+to get clear but the android passed him close enough to jam the knife
+into his neck and send him screaming to the sidewalk.
+
+A uniformed patrolman appeared on the other side of the street, further
+down. He took the situation in and understood Taber's frantic gesture. A
+car screamed to a halt as the patrolman raced across the street, drawing
+his gun.
+
+The android, seeing his escape cut off, veered into an areaway. The
+patrolman got there first and plunged in after him.
+
+Taber, gasps tearing at his lungs, arrived thirty seconds later. During
+that time, he'd expected the sound of shots from the patrolman's gun.
+But there was silence.
+
+He braked on his heels, skidded into the areaway, and saw the android
+advancing on the patrolman. The latter stood motionless, the gun hanging
+useless at his side.
+
+"Drop! Drop!" Taber yelled. He cursed as he tried to angle in the narrow
+areaway in order to get a clear shot.
+
+The android advanced with his knife raised. In desperation, Taber fired
+at the lethal fist that held the weapon. And he was lucky. The hand
+snapped open under the ripping impact of the bullet and the knife rang
+sharply against the wall as it ricocheted to the ground.
+
+Only then, did the patrolman obey the order to drop. He went to one knee
+and Brent Taber fired three shots into the chest of the android.
+
+He hesitated. There was only one slug left in the revolver. If the three
+didn't spot the android, he planned to wait for closer contact and put
+the sixth slug into the forehead.
+
+The android shuddered. The fire and frenzy went out of him. He tried to
+lift a leg and was surprised when it didn't move. He looked down at it.
+Completely bemused, he peered down at his crimson chest. He looked up at
+Taber without anger, only with surprise. A distinct expression of
+wistful regret crossed his face as he sank to the ground.
+
+The tenth android was dead.
+
+The patrolman came shakily to his feet. His face was as pale as death.
+"I--I don't know what happened. Buck fever. Pure buck fever, and I've
+been on the force for ten years."
+
+"Don't worry about it," Taber said.
+
+"Don't _worry_. All of a sudden I freeze under pressure and he says,
+'Don't worry.'"
+
+"I meant it. This is no ordinary man. It wasn't buck fever at all. I
+couldn't have faced him myself if I hadn't rattled him with that lucky
+shot."
+
+The patrolman wanted to believe. He most pathetically wanted to believe.
+"Honest?"
+
+"It's the God's honest truth. No man could have stood in front of that
+killer and pulled a trigger. He's a master hypnotist. You're all right.
+We won't say a word about what happened in here. And you'll have no
+trouble in the future."
+
+The patrolman shook his head. "Still, I gotta do something about it."
+
+"Talk to your psychiatrist," Taber said. "In the meantime, keep that
+crowd out there from spilling in here."
+
+Taber pushed out through the choked entrance to the areaway and went
+back up the street. It was alive with activity now and he passed
+unnoticed. No one recognized him as the man who had given chase in the
+bloody business that would make headlines that evening in every New York
+newspaper.
+
+And yet the radio and TV news commentators gave it no special attention.
+It went in along with other items of the day's news as a more or less
+routine big-city happening.
+
+One national-hookup headliner stated: "In New York City today, a man
+identified as John Dennis, address unknown, went berserk in a
+fashionable Upper East Side apartment. Dennis, wielding a knife, killed
+a man and a woman, and seriously wounded another man before he was cut
+down by police bullets.
+
+"A jet airliner, down in the North Atlantic today, imperiled the lives
+of seventy-six ..."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Frank Corson lay propped on two pillows in a private room of the Park
+Hill Hospital. Rhoda Kane sat in a chair beside the bed. She was pale
+and very beautiful. The fire was now gone from her body and the fever
+from her eyes.
+
+"They say he wasn't human. They say he was an android." She shuddered,
+looked down quickly, then slowly raised her head.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I'll--I'll never understand. I get sick thinking about it. I'll just
+never understand."
+
+"He was human and yet not human. He had extraordinary powers that we
+don't begin to understand, so that what happened to you is no disgrace."
+
+"It's a terrible disgrace."
+
+"It happened to me, too. When he told me to sit down I had to do it. I
+was helpless."
+
+"But you fought! You overcame it."
+
+Frank Corson smiled wryly. "No, I didn't. It was just that he'd had
+little time to work on me. It was a single mental blow, so to speak,
+that laid me out. Like one punch in the ring. Gradually, I came out of
+it."
+
+"I think I _tried_ to fight."
+
+"Of course, you did. The disgrace was mine. I acted like a child. I
+should have realized that something extraordinary had happened. But I
+nursed my miserable little ego like a three-year-old."
+
+"How could you know? My cruelty to you--"
+
+"Don't talk like that! I knew about the ninth android, and I met the
+tenth one in front of your apartment that second morning. I should have
+associated. Brent Taber did, otherwise we might both be dead."
+
+"It's all over now. It doesn't make any difference."
+
+"No, it doesn't make any difference."
+
+She looked at him in silence for several moments. "You've changed,
+Frank."
+
+"Yes, I guess I have. I guess we all grow up eventually. We all face
+reality and live with it."
+
+"Frank--I think I'm going to cry."
+
+He could not turn his eyes in her direction. He looked straight ahead
+but his voice was soft. "Go ahead, Rhoda. I understand."
+
+They were silent for a time, then Rhoda began to cry quietly into her
+handkerchief. After a while even that sound was stilled.
+
+He turned to look at her. She was standing beside the bed. He almost
+reached out and took her hand, but drew his own back at the last minute.
+
+"How soon will you be leaving?" she asked.
+
+"The wound was superficial. I really didn't need to be hospitalized. I'm
+being released tomorrow morning. I'll probably leave immediately."
+
+"You'll make a fine doctor, Frank."
+
+"Thank you, I'll try."
+
+"Good-bye, Frank."
+
+"Good-bye--darling."
+
+She turned and fled.
+
+And judging by the deep sadness in his soul, he knew he had hit bottom.
+
+There was no place to go but up.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brent Taber's phone rang.
+
+"Hello, Taber. Halliday here."
+
+"How are you, Halliday."
+
+"Tops, old man. Ragged by the stress of it all, of course, but tops."
+
+Taber waited. Halliday waited. Seeing that he would get no help, he
+said, "By the way, that little ... misunderstanding we had, the Senator
+Crane thing, I'm sure you realized that our talk was ... well, the words
+were put into my mouth. I felt the same way about the oaf as you did.
+But sometimes, in the line of duty, old man ... well, I know you were
+reading between my lines all the time."
+
+"I'm pretty good at that."
+
+"I knew we understood each other."
+
+"Is that what you called about?"
+
+"Yes, but I've got a little tip for you. They want to see you upstairs.
+I happen to know they liked the way things turned out. Just between you
+and me, the humiliation of Crane made certain high officials pretty
+happy. I was queried and I gave you all the credit."
+
+"Before or after the good Senator fell on his face?"
+
+Halliday laughed. "Okay, pal. You're entitled to your little dig. But
+you know this--I'm with you and I always will be."
+
+"And I'm with you, too, pal," Brent said wearily and hung up.
+
+The phone rang again. Automatically, Brent picked up the receiver.
+
+"Brent? Porter on this end. How is it with you, old man?"
+
+"Ducky. Just ducky."
+
+Porter laughed. "Just called to say, 'Good job well done.'"
+
+"Thanks."
+
+"Want to give you a little tip, too. They want you upstairs. A
+commendation. Not generally known, though. And you deserve it. You'll be
+called up tomorrow."
+
+"You never know the day or the hour."
+
+The laugh came again. "You're humor is priceless, old man."
+
+"Isn't it?"
+
+"Another thing--I got pretty hot when I got wind of how the ground was
+being cut out from under you. I made it my business to do something
+about it. I hate to see a good man pushed around. Of course I okayed the
+orders cutting you down--a matter of routine--I had to follow through.
+But then I got busy. A thing like that won't happen again."
+
+"Thanks, Porter. It warms a man to know he's got a friend--a friend like
+you."
+
+"Just between us, old man, I'm one of your admirers." Porter laughed and
+sprayed charm through the phone like perfume from an atomizer. "But if
+you quote me, I'll deny it."
+
+"Oh, I wouldn't think of quoting you, old man," Taber replied in a
+kindly voice and put down the phone.
+
+He sat back and closed his eyes. Three people dead. One person maimed.
+Blood in the streets.
+
+Good job well done.
+
+He opened a drawer of his desk and reached for the Scotch bottle.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the Newark Airport he would not trust his suitcase to a porter
+because the leather loop holding one side of the handle was very thin
+and he was afraid it would break.
+
+Once he had been ashamed of the shabbiness of the bag and had planned to
+buy a new one, but now there was an affinity between them, a kind of
+warmth.
+
+Were they companions in misery?
+
+He asked the question with a quick smile and then realized he was not
+miserable. A little bleak of mind, perhaps, with Minnesota and what lay
+ahead affording no glow of anticipation in his mind. But that would
+pass. No, he had relegated the hurt to a mental pigeonhole; maybe he
+would bring it out and look at it once in a while, after enough time had
+passed.
+
+But he was not miserable.
+
+He went to the counter, checked in, and they told him his plane would
+take off on time. He glanced at his watch. Thirty-two minutes.
+
+He went back to the bench and found Rhoda Kane sitting beside his
+suitcase.
+
+She wore a plain, black suit with a ridiculous little black hat and she
+was so beautiful he was angry with her. He hated her. This good-bye
+wasn't necessary. Why had she come?
+
+Her face was pale and drawn; her smile was as abstract as the mystery on
+the lips of the Mona Lisa. She laid a hand on the suitcase.
+
+"We had our first quarrel over it, remember? We went to Puerto Rico for
+that week and I wanted to use mine but you said, 'Goddamn it, if you're
+ashamed of my suitcase you're ashamed of me, so the hell with it.'"
+
+"I remember."
+
+He sat down beside her, lit a cigarette, and then dropped it on the
+floor and stepped on it. They both looked straight ahead.
+
+"Take me with you, Frank."
+
+"That's impossible."
+
+"I know, but take me with you."
+
+"There will be no money. I'll live in a stuffy room somewhere."
+
+"What difference does that make? Take me."
+
+"You have your job. You're on the way up. It would be unthinkable."
+
+"I don't have any job. I quit. I was halfway through a piece of
+copy--very important copy--and I got up and walked into Mr. Frankel's
+office. I said, 'Mr. Frankel, it's been very nice working for you. I
+appreciate all you've done but I'm leaving now. The pencils are all
+sharpened on my desk and the next girl can have the new leather-bound
+address book in the lower right hand drawer that I bought but never
+used! That was a silly thing to say, wasn't it?"
+
+"I suppose so."
+
+"And the way I phrased it. I actually said I'd bought the lower right
+hand drawer and hadn't used it--take me with you, Frank."
+
+"Rhoda, I was so wrong in--"
+
+"_I_ was wrong, Frank. I was trying to mold you into my way of life. I
+wanted you, but only as a part of my own eager little world. I had money
+so I furnished my apartment. I put this here and that there, and hung a
+toothbrush over the sink as necessarily functional, and then I decided I
+needed a man in the same way and so I picked you.
+
+"But I found out that the man in the bed was the most important part of
+it and without him there wasn't anything. Without him I didn't want any
+of the other. Now ... I want to be a wife. A wife is a person who goes
+where her husband goes and lives where he lives and shares what he has.
+You don't barter and trade--this for that--give up this part to get
+that. You give up everything and yet it isn't like that at all because
+you're really getting everything."
+
+He took out another cigarette.
+
+"Oh, Frank, it's all mixed up and I'm going to cry, I think."
+
+"It's not mixed up at all," he said quietly. He turned to look at her,
+half frowning, half smiling. "Now why in the hell couldn't you have
+given me a little notice? Twenty minutes to plane time and I've got to
+get another reservation."
+
+"I'm sorry, Frank."
+
+"Maybe there isn't a seat."
+
+"Wouldn't that be terrible?"
+
+"Then we'll have to wait over."
+
+"Why don't you go and see?"
+
+Five minutes later they were walking down the west tunnel to gate
+twenty-six.
+
+Frank Corson grinned. "Come on, woman, I'm going to take you across
+state lines for immoral purposes."
+
+"How wonderful," she breathed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brent Taber was human and his triumph had been a thing of satisfaction
+to him--but only momentarily. Now it had a slightly sour taste.
+
+Not that he was unhappy. He was content and almost relaxed as he sat in
+Doctor Entman's patio and worked on a Scotch and soda.
+
+"A nice night," Entman said.
+
+"Beautiful. Those stars are about ready to fall into our laps."
+
+"Menace out there? It seems unthinkable."
+
+"Doesn't it?"
+
+"The human animal is a strange creature. He's so capable of refusing to
+believe what he doesn't want to believe."
+
+"Maybe he's smarter than we think. Maybe there's no point in looking at
+a pending disaster from every angle. The what-will-be-will-be attitude
+isn't necessarily like that of the ostrich which sticks its head in the
+sand."
+
+"Do the people inside really believe?" Entman asked.
+
+"It's pretty difficult to tell. Sometimes I wonder what my own real
+feelings are."
+
+"I wasn't completely briefed on how it ended," Entman said delicately.
+
+"I think the phony specifications got through."
+
+"If they did--if things are really as they appear--"
+
+Taber smiled in the darkness. "Are _you_ beginning to doubt, Doctor?"
+
+"Oh, be quiet," Entman said with friendly petulance. "I was going to say
+that I was rather proud of those details. If our hostiles out there
+follow my specifications, they'll create androids with much smaller
+lungs and non-porous skin that will give them no end of trouble when
+they start chasing frightened householders down the streets of the
+world."
+
+Taber chuckled. "I remember a story about the Japanese Navy. They were
+supposed to have built some ships to specifications stolen in England.
+When launched, they slid out into the bay and tipped over."
+
+Entman sighed. "I wish I could get some of the data those creatures
+used in the construction of the androids."
+
+"You'd like to make one of your own?"
+
+"It would solve the servant problem. Terrible here in Washington."
+
+"Labor unions would holler bloody murder."
+
+"You can't stop progress."
+
+Suddenly Entman got to his feet. He walked to the edge of the patio and
+looked upward. Taber saw his face in the light streaming from the living
+room--he seemed frightened.
+
+"Brent! It's such a helpless feeling. What do we do?"
+
+Brent Taber got up and went over and stood beside Entman. He, too,
+looked up into the velvet night; the beautiful, quiet, impersonal night.
+
+The sinister night.
+
+"We watch the stars," Brent said. "And we wait."
+
+THE END
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  OTHER SIGNIFICANT MONARCH BOOKS
+
+  MS8 THE COLD WAR by Deane and David Heller
+                          (A Monarch Select Book) 50c
+
+  MS7 FORGET ABOUT CALORIES by Leland H. O'Brian
+                          (A Monarch Select Book) 35c
+
+  MS6 THE NAKED RISE OF COMMUNISM by Frank L. Kluckhohn
+                          (A Monarch Select Book) 75c
+
+  MS5 PLANNED PARENTHOOD by Henry De Forrest, M.D.
+                          (A Monarch Select Book) 50c
+      A study of safe and practical approaches to birth control.
+
+  MS4 THE RISE AND FALL OF THE JAPANESE EMPIRE
+                                   by Gary Gordon 50c
+
+  MS3A AMERICA: LISTEN! by Frank L. Kluckhohn (Revised Ed.) 75c
+
+  MS2 THE BERLIN CRISIS by Deane and David Heller 50c
+
+  K67 DORIS DAY by Tedd Thomey 35c
+
+  K66 ROBERT F. KENNEDY: ASSISTANT PRESIDENT by Gary Gordon
+                          (A Monarch Select Book) 35c
+
+  K65 S O S: THE WORLD'S GREAT SEA DISASTERS by Keith Jameson 50c
+
+  K64 EISENHOWER by George Johnson (A Monarch Select Book) 35c
+
+  K61 ELEANOR ROOSEVELT by George Johnson 35c
+
+  K60 PRINCESS GRACE KELLY by Robert Newman 35c
+
+  K59 POPE JOHN XXIII: PASTORAL PRINCE by Randall Garrett 50c
+
+  K57 RICHARD NIXON by George Johnson 35c
+
+  K56 SIR WINSTON CHURCHILL by Edgar Black 50c
+
+  K54 JACQUELINE KENNEDY by Deane and David Heller 35c
+      The fascinating story of America's glamorous First Lady.
+
+  MB528 MEDICAL PROBLEMS OF WOMEN by Martin James, M.D.
+                          (A Monarch Select Book) 50c
+
+  MB512 FOLK AND MODERN MEDICINE by Don James 50c
+
+  MB509 THE BOOK OF MIRACLES by Zsolt Aradi 50c
+
+  MA328 ADMIRAL "BULL" HALSEY by Jack Pearl
+                          (A Monarch Select Book) 35c
+
+  MA321 TARAWA by Tom Bailey 50c
+
+  MA319 U. S. MARINES IN ACTION by T. R. Fehrenbach 50c
+
+  MA312 THE KENNEDY CABINET by Deane and David Heller 35c
+
+Available at all newsstands and bookstores
+
+If you are unable to secure these books at your local dealer, you may
+obtain copies by sending the retail price plus 5c for handling each
+title to Monarch Books, Inc., Mail Order Department, Capital Building,
+Division Street, Derby, Connecticut.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_A Terrifying Tale Of Horror In The Skies_
+
+THE FLYING EYES
+
+By J. Hunter Holly
+
+Author of ENCOUNTER and THE GREEN PLANET
+
+Linc Hosler was sitting in a packed football stadium when the Flying
+Eyes appeared and cast their hypnotic power over half the crowd.
+Thousands of people suddenly began marching zombie-like into the woods
+where they vanished into a black pit.
+
+Linc used every resource of the Space Research Lab and the National
+Guard to destroy the Eyes. But nothing could stop them, for they proved
+immune to bullets and bombs.
+
+In desperation, Linc captured an Eye and found a way to communicate with
+it through his mind. He learned that radiation was fuel for the
+creatures' lives. And then they issued their terrible ultimatum: Explode
+a series of atom bombs to supply them with radiation or they would turn
+the world's population into mindless robots.
+
+It gave the world two harrowing choices--self-destruction via fallout
+from the bombs or annihilation via the sinister Flying Eyes....
+
+A MONARCH SCIENCE-FICTION CLASSIC Available at all newsstands and
+bookstores 35c
+
+If you are unable to secure this book at your local dealer, you may
+obtain a copy by sending 35c plus 5c for handling to Monarch Books,
+Inc., Mail Order Department, Capital Building, Derby, Connecticut.
+
+_A Destroyer From Another Planet--Bent On Mastery Of The World_
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ENCOUNTER
+
+By J. Hunter Holly Author of THE GREEN PLANET
+
+It came plummeting out of the sky--a soundless, streaking, purple glow,
+moving faster and faster until it ripped at the trees, crashed through
+them and struck sickeningly against a hill. Momentarily it flared
+brightly, then went out.
+
+It was not long after that the murders began--strange, inexplicable
+deaths, all the victims found with their heads crushed as if their
+skulls had exploded outward.
+
+The trail of victims lead from Arkansas to Tennessee, to Kentucky,
+Illinois and Michigan--sixteen unrelated people who had only one thing
+in common: All of their brains were withered, as if sucked dry of their
+contents ...
+
+And somewhere wandered an evil stranger from another planet, his
+personality expanding, his brain power increasing, preparing for the
+inevitable encounter that could make him master of the world!
+
+A Science Fiction Thriller From
+
+MONARCH BOOKS, INC.
+
+Available at all newsstands and bookstores 35c
+
+If you are unable to secure this book at your local dealer, you may
+obtain a copy by sending 35c plus 5c for handling to Monarch Books,
+Inc., Mail Order Division, Capital Building, Derby, Connecticut.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE POWER OF EVIL
+
+"You might call it a fight," Elizabeth said, "but they never actually
+laid a hand on each other."
+
+Dr. Carew stared at her in puzzlement as she went on. "They threw every
+hard thing in the room at each other, without ever touching anything. It
+was like some ghastly, murderous game. A clock flew through the air like
+a cannonball, straight at Joseph's head, and some unseen force seemed to
+stop it. For a second it hung there and trembled in the air--_with
+nothing under it_; then it turned and flew like lightning at Quincy; he
+barely dodged it.
+
+"Finally a vase did find its mark and Quincy fell to the floor. Joseph
+stepped over him and came toward me. I ran, slamming the door in his
+face, locking him in. He laughed evilly and called after me, 'Why waste
+time running away, Elizabeth? I'll come to get you, and you won't be
+able to resist me now!'"
+
+This is one of the unforgettable scenes from MONARCH BOOKS' new fiction
+thriller--
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+WITCH HOUSE
+
+By Evangeline Walton
+
+A spine-tingling tale of a group of tormented men and women forced to
+live in a house saturated with evil.
+
+On sale at all newsstands and bookstores 35c
+
+If you are unable to secure this book at your local dealer, you may
+obtain a copy by sending 35c plus 5c for handling to Monarch Books,
+Inc., Mail Order Department, Capital Building, Derby, Connecticut.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+REVENGE IN AN ALIEN WORLD
+
+When Gail Loring chose Bill Drake to be her husband--in name only--for
+the duration of the flight to Mars, she didn't know that she had just
+signed his death warrant.
+
+Jealous Dr. Spartan, leader of the expedition, swore to get revenge and
+force Gail to share his maniacal plan for power.
+
+Bound together in space, five men and a woman strained against the
+powerful tug of twisted emotions and secret ambitions.
+
+But all plans were forgotten when they landed on the Red Planet and
+encountered the Martians--half animal, half vegetable, with acid for
+blood and radar for sight.
+
+When the Martians launched an assault against the space ship, linking
+their electrical energy in an awesome display of power, Spartan realized
+that this was the perfect moment for personal revenge--and touched off
+his own diabolical plan of destruction against his fellow crewmen ...
+
+This is the exciting plot of the new MONARCH BOOKS science-fiction
+thriller--
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE RED PLANET
+
+By Russ Winterbotham
+
+A tense novel of violence and intrigue--a million miles in space.
+
+On sale at all newsstands and bookstores 35c
+
+If you are unable to secure this book at your local dealer, you may
+obtain a copy by sending 35c plus 5c for handling to Monarch Books,
+Inc., Mail Order Department, Capital Building, Derby, Connecticut.
+
+_It Spread A New Electrical Virus That Turned Men Into Ruthless
+Monsters_
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE SPACE EGG
+
+By Russ Winterbotham
+
+Flying forty-two miles above Kansas, something phenomenal had happened
+to Test Pilot Fayburn. A space egg had smashed through the cockpit
+Plexi-glass and then pierced his pressurized suit.
+
+Blood on the pilot's seat indicated that he had been injured, but there
+was no wound. The loss of pressure in the cockpit and in his suit should
+have killed him instantly--yet here he was, alive and unharmed, but
+definitely a changed man.
+
+Always a mild, considerate person he had, in a matter of minutes, become
+a madman. What had brought about the change? Was he still human or was
+he now OUT OF THIS WORLD?
+
+Only time would tell as he daringly laid siege to an important air base
+and began using his frightening power to force men and women to serve
+his evil purpose.
+
+A MONARCH SCIENCE-FICTION CLASSIC
+
+Available at all newsstands and bookstores 35c
+
+If you are unable to secure this book at your local dealer, you may
+obtain a copy by sending 35c plus 5c for handling to Monarch Books,
+Inc., Mail Order Department, Capital Building, Derby, Connecticut.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TEN FROM INFINITY
+
+Ten men walked Earth--ten men in different cities in the United States.
+Each one was the exact replica of the other--from the tips of his
+fingers down to the beating of his twin hearts.
+
+Where they came from, they were called androids--synthetic men,
+conditioned by their masters to complete their deadly purpose on Earth
+as advance agents for an invasion from space.
+
+The only man who knew of their existence was Brent Taber, secret agent,
+specially commissioned to find out their plans and avert the world's
+destruction.
+
+The big problem was to figure out a way to appeal to the mindless,
+soulless creatures who knew no emotion--pleasure or pain. But every move
+he had made so far had ended in failure and time was running out--for
+him and everyone on the face of the Earth ...
+
+Published By MONARCH BOOKS, INC.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ten From Infinity, by Paul W. Fairman
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TEN FROM INFINITY ***
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