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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2b42240 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51810 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51810) diff --git a/old/51810-h.zip b/old/51810-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index a0a5939..0000000 --- a/old/51810-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51810-h/51810-h.htm b/old/51810-h/51810-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 9d67f62..0000000 --- a/old/51810-h/51810-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1959 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Undetected, by George O. Smith. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -.ph1, .ph2, .ph3, .ph4 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } -.ph1 { font-size: xx-large; margin: .67em auto; } -.ph2 { font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; } -.ph3 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } -.ph4 { font-size: medium; margin: 1.12em auto; } - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Undetected, by George O. Smith - -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/license - - -Title: The Undetected - -Author: George O. Smith - -Release Date: April 20, 2016 [EBook #51810] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE UNDETECTED *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="372" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<h1>The Undetected</h1> - -<p>By GEORGE O. SMITH</p> - -<p>Illustrated by FINLAY</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Galaxy Science Fiction December 1959.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus1.jpg" width="600" height="399" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph3"><i>Nothing can possibly be more baffling than<br /> -a crime in a sealed room ... but what if the<br /> -investigator happens to have an open mind?</i></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph4">I</p> - -<p>I took a quick look around the apartment, even though I already knew -what I had to know.</p> - -<p>Gordon Andrews had been slain in his sleep by the quick thrust of some -rapierlike instrument. There was no sign of any struggle. The wall -safe stood with its door open and its contents missing. Every door and -window was closed, locked, burglar-bugged, and non-openable from the -inside; the front door had been forced by the police. Furthermore, it -had been raining in wind-whipped torrents for hours, yet there was no -trace of moisture on any of the floors.</p> - -<p>Of course no one had heard a sound, and naturally there were no -fingerprints.</p> - -<p>Police Chief Weston spied me and snapped, "What do you make of it, -Schnell?"</p> - -<p>I shrugged and said, "Completely sealed room."</p> - -<p>"Got any ideas?" he demanded.</p> - -<p>I had a lot of ideas, but I was not going to express myself without -a lot of stark evidence. I do not yearn to have the prefix "ex-" -installed in front of my title of Captain of Detectives. I'm much too -young to be retired. So instead of trying to explain, I said, "The -<i>modus operandi</i> is—"</p> - -<p>Chief Weston snorted, "Schnell, there isn't a clue in the whole damned -building, and yet you stand there and yap about <i>modus operandi</i>?"</p> - -<p>"That's the point, Chief. The cluelessness is itself the <i>modus -operandi</i> that points to—"</p> - -<p>"You talk as if we had a whole file of unsolved, clueless, sealed-room -homicides!"</p> - -<p>"Chief," I said, "a true 'perfect crime' would be one in which no clue -existed, including the fact of the crime itself—except those clues -that were deliberately planned by the perpetrator for some purpose of -his own."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He glowered at me. "What are you driving at, Schnell?"</p> - -<p>"I'm trying to convince you that we are faced with a very clever -criminal mind," I said. "A man with a fine talent. One who plans his -crimes so well that they aren't even recognized as criminal."</p> - -<p>"Nonsense. You can't conceal any crime forever."</p> - -<p>"Forever isn't necessary, Chief. Just long enough to cover up -completely, to remove all connection. We don't know how many bank -tellers have been running on reduced salary because they somehow paid -out a hundred in cashing a ten-dollar check. We couldn't demand an -audit of all the big financial accounts in town, to know the why and -wherefore of the transfer of any sum of money larger than the limit of -petty larceny."</p> - -<p>"But now you are talking about a sly, clever operator, Schnell. This is -a plain case of homicide and burglary."</p> - -<p><i>Plain?</i> Was he kidding himself?</p> - -<p>I smiled crookedly. "Chief, there is no doubt in my mind that our crook -intended to clean out Gordon Andrews' safe without disturbing a soul. -But the imminent awakening of Andrews presented a physical threat that -had to be silenced immediately."</p> - -<p>"So that is the work of your sly thief?"</p> - -<p>"Chief, just remember that Gordon Andrews was an eccentric old sourpuss -who hated to do business with bankers. Now let's suppose that Andrews -had awakened in the morning to find his safe cleaned out. He screeches -for the cops. We come a-roaring in with the fingerprint detail and the -safe specialists and the break-in experts. We find," I said with a -wave of my hand, "everything just as we found it here and now. So we -look Gordon Andrews in the eye and tell him that no one <i>could</i> get -in, no one <i>had</i> gotten in, and that we suspect him of cleaning out -his own safe and yelling 'Copper' to make trouble for the Mayor and -the Commissioner, who refused to appoint him a special detail of city -employees for bodyguards last year."</p> - -<p>"Go on, Schnell," said Chief Weston with deadly patience.</p> - -<p>"The homicide was a spur-of-the-moment necessity. Had it been planned, -the crook would have plugged Andrews with the old man's personal -Banker's Special, which he kept on the bedside table, and made it look -like suicide."</p> - -<p>"Know a lot about Andrews, don't you, Schnell?"</p> - -<p>"What do you mean, Chief?"</p> - -<p>"About the Banker's Special."</p> - -<p>"I have an excellent memory," I said. "Andrews had a license for the -thing. The serial number is 233,467,819 and the gun and license were -acquired on August seventh, 1951."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Chief sarcastically grunted, "Has it been fired since?"</p> - -<p>"It was fired six times at the date of delivery by the police -laboratory for the land-mark records," I said.</p> - -<p>"Let's not try being funny, Schnell. This is a serious business. -Andrews was an eccentric old curmudgeon, but he was also a -philanthropist, and the papers will be after our throats if we don't -come up with this super-criminal."</p> - -<p>"He's going to be damned tough, Chief."</p> - -<p>"Okay, this is your project. Nothing else matters until he's caught and -convicted—of homicide committed during the course of grand robbery, -meaning automatic hot seat."</p> - -<p>I nodded slowly.</p> - -<p>"Just remember, Schnell—the whole department's behind you," Chief -Weston assured me.</p> - -<p>I continued to nod, but his assurance didn't reassure me in the least. -With about ninety-eight per cent of the general public still not -quite willing to accept rockets, missiles and space travel, I had a -fat chance of convincing anybody that a telepath had kept guard over -the slumbering mind of Gordon Andrews, while a perceptive solved the -combination to the wall safe, so that a kinematic could twirl the -dial; that the imminent awakening of Gordon Andrews had indeed been an -imminent physical threat to a delicate extra-sensory undertaking, and -that therefore he had been silenced by the kinematic, with a weapon -located by the perceptive, after warning from the telepath; after which -the crime had continued, with the loot being floated by a levitator -along a freeway explored by the perceptive and scouted by the telepath -and cleared of barriers by the kinematic who opened and debugged them -as he went along—and that the real topper for this whopper was that -this operation was not the integrated effort of a clever gang of -extra-sensory specialists, but rather the single-handed accomplishment -of one highly talented Psi-man!</p> - -<p>A Psi-man ruthless enough to kill before he would permit his victim to -watch the turning dial, the floating loot, the opening portal, simply -because there stood a probability that one of the two billion persons -on Earth might suspect the phenomena as parapsychical activity, instead -of the hallucinatory ravings of a rich old eccentric who hated the -incumbent political party!</p> - -<p>How best to keep a secret?</p> - -<p>Let no one suspect that any secret exists!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph4">II</p> - -<p>The rain was still coming down in wind-whipped torrents that slatted -along the avenue in drenching sheets. Huddled in the scant cover of the -apartment door was a girl of about eighteen. The raincoat she wore was -no protection; the wind drove the rain up under it. Womanlike, she was -struggling with the ruins of a fashionable little umbrella instead of -abandoning it for the tangled mess that it was.</p> - -<p>She looked at me as I opened the door. She was without guile. She was -wet and miserable and determined to take whatever help was proffered, -and hope afterward that no unfair advantage would be taken of the -situation.</p> - -<p>I showed her my I.D. card and she read: "Howard Schnell, Captain, -Special Detail." Her face changed from cautious immobility to a sort -of wet animation, and she added as if it were important under the -circumstances to be completely open, "I'm Florence Wood."</p> - -<p>I took the ruined umbrella from her unresisting hand and stood it in -the foyer for the janitor to dispose of, and pointed out across the -rain-ponded sidewalk to the police car. It was almost high noon, but -the rain was so heavy that the identity of the car was by no means -conspicuous from the apartment door. Florence Wood nodded as she caught -sight of it.</p> - -<p>I said, "Now, I'll make a run for it and open the door, and get in -first so that I'll be on the driver's side. As soon as I'm out of your -way, just dive in and don't worry about closing the door until you're -out of this rain. Catch?"</p> - -<p>She nodded.</p> - -<p>"I'd play Sir Galahad and give you my foul-weather gear to wear," I -said, "but you're already so wet that it wouldn't do more than keep the -water <i>in</i>."</p> - -<p>She smiled at me understandingly.</p> - -<p>Then she looked at me with curiosity because I was standing there -waiting instead of making my dash immediately. I thought of how my -Psi-man could have floated the loot out of an open window and kept the -rain from soaking the floor at the same time.</p> - -<p>So, to make conversation, I said, "I'm waiting until my will power -builds up enough to overcome the forces of gravity, barometric -pressure, and the rest of whatever goes into the making of a howling -downpour like this. Considering that nature is dissipating energy equal -to a couple of hundred atom bombs per second, it takes a bit of time to -collect the necessary amount of mental power."</p> - -<p>Florence Wood laughed. In mere instants she'd changed from -weather-drenched misery to a cheerful sort of discomfort no worse than -many a human has endured for hours at a football game. She said with -amusement, "Captain Schnell, why don't you start the car and drive it -over here? Seems to me it would take less power than stopping this -storm."</p> - -<p>"The law says that it is considered unlawful to operate a motor vehicle -from any position other than the driver's seat," I replied.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>When the slack in the storm I'd been anticipating finally arrived, I -took advantage of it to make my run across the sidewalk. Miss Wood -followed: her timing was perfect. Everything happened in a continuous -sequence without a stoppage at any point. The door opened and I went -in, landing hard and bouncing deliberately on the seat springs to hunch -myself over; Miss Wood landed and whirled in a flurry of wet skirt and -clammy raincoat, hauling one rain-booted ankle out of the way as the -door swung closed with a solid and satisfying <i>thunk</i>.</p> - -<p>I started the car and let the engine idle to warm it up and dry it off. -Then I said, "Part of my duty to the citizen includes protection of his -health and comfort as well as protection from unlawful behavior. So, -where do you wish to be taken?"</p> - -<p>She regarded me out of clear gray eyes. "Don't you know?" she asked -with a quirk at the corner of her mouth.</p> - -<p>"Do I look like a mind reader?"</p> - -<p>"Well, you did slow down the storm."</p> - -<p>I laughed. "Miss Wood, King Canute would have been a hero instead of a -bum if he'd waited until high water before he told the tide to stop. -Now, what gave you any reason to suppose that I am endowed with special -talents?"</p> - -<p>"Well," she said, fumbling through her handbag for the comb, which -naturally was at the bottom, "you did come along when I needed help, -and you did identify yourself when I so much wanted to know—"</p> - -<p>"And since I also remembered that storms as violent as this always have -lulls, you put two and two together? Well, it doesn't require telepathy -to conclude that you are soaked to the skin, that you need and want -help, and that you'd prefer to know just whom you are driving off in a -car with. Any other ideas about my talents?"</p> - -<p>"Well, I should think—"</p> - -<p>"Address first, Miss Wood."</p> - -<p>She gave me an address in a residential district that was the maximum -distance one could get from City Hall and still enjoy the privilege of -paying city taxes. I started the car and headed in that direction. Then -I said, "Now, Miss Wood, let's go on with your little fancy."</p> - -<p>"Fancy?"</p> - -<p>"You've been moonbeaming about a little courtroom drama where twelve -good telepaths and true are reading the mental testimony of a witness -who had located some vital bit of evidence by perception and brought it -to light by kinematic power."</p> - -<p>"Well, it does seem that any truly gifted person would work for the -good of humanity."</p> - -<p>"I doubt that being gifted with a sense of perception would -automatically endow a man with a sense of honor."</p> - -<p>"But doesn't it seem just <i>awful</i> to think of anything as miraculous as -telepathy being used for—for—"</p> - -<p>She was trying to avoid the word "immoral" because she was of an age -and experience that felt sensitive about its use. Unfortunately the -only substitute was the word "sin."</p> - -<p>I came to her rescue. "It's deplorable but true that nothing was ever -developed for the benefit of mankind without a few sharpshooters -quickly figuring out some way to make it pay them a dishonest buck."</p> - -<p>"But it would be frightfully hard to bamboozle a telepathic policeman, -wouldn't it?" she asked hopefully.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I thought of my PSI-man, whose only mistake in the sealed room murder -of Gordon Andrews had been in being <i>so</i> good that he'd actually -disclosed the existence of a criminal who employed Psi faculties.</p> - -<p>"Wouldn't that depend upon whether the policeman or the criminal was -the more talented?" I parried. "But that supposes that the police force -would have a corps of Psi policemen."</p> - -<p>"Wouldn't they?"</p> - -<p>"Honey-chile," I said, "at the first thin hint that the Commissioner -was even interested in the possibility of hiring someone who knew -what the term 'parapsychic phenomena' really meant, there would be a -universal howl against 'Thought Police' so loud that it would shatter -the polar icecaps."</p> - -<p>"But why?" she asked, bewildered.</p> - -<p>"They'd start screaming about 'invasion of privacy,' and cite the Bill -of Rights, and that would be that."</p> - -<p>"You mean that the law has laws against telepathy?"</p> - -<p>"No, it doesn't say anything about telepathy," I admitted, knowing what -was to come next.</p> - -<p>"Well, then?"</p> - -<p>"Don't sound so superior, Miss Wood. At the first attempt, the law -would discover that it had a hell of a lot to say about telepathy and -perception, since they'd definitely affect the interpretation of the -Fourth and Fifth Amendments."</p> - -<p>"I know the Fifth," she said, "but how about the Fourth?"</p> - -<p>"Unreasonable and unwarranted search," I told her.</p> - -<p>"But isn't a man guilty when he's guilty?"</p> - -<p>"I wish it were as simple as that."</p> - -<p>"But why isn't it?"</p> - -<p>"Little Miss Wood, you are now asking me to solve an ethical question -that's been unanswered for more than ten thousand years." I smiled -wistfully. "I am not—repeat not—big enough to answer the following -question: 'Shall a killer in the confessional, who has been given -absolution by his God, subsequently be punished by his fellow man?'"</p> - -<p>"But what has that to do with it?"</p> - -<p>"Let's have <i>you</i> answer one: 'Could you truly bare your secret soul -to God if you suspected that some prying human being was taking it all -down on a tape recorder?'"</p> - -<p>"No, I suppose not."</p> - -<p>"Then our 'Thought Police' would be standing as a human barrier between -any man and his God."</p> - -<p>"I suppose so—but couldn't I <i>tell</i>?"</p> - -<p>"Tell?"</p> - -<p>"Tell whether someone was listening to my thoughts?"</p> - -<p>That was another stumper. Does the sign wear out any faster if it's -read? Can the radio transmitter be measured to tell whether the -broadcast has any audience? Does the tree that falls in the forest -barren of animal life generate the same wave-motion as it would if all -the leaves were replaced by active eardrums? There are lots of analogs, -but are any of them valid?</p> - -<p>I said, "If I cry out, how can I know whether I am being heard?"</p> - -<p>And in my mind I made my own reply. I thought in deep concentration: -"<i>How do you read me, Psi-man?</i>"</p> - -<p>The response was zero-zero. And it meant—nothing. My Psi-man could -have been following my every thought from the moment that my ringing -telephone summoned me to Gordon Andrews' apartment to the present -instant, so far as I could tell. There was no feeling of intrusion, no -feeling of <i>presence</i>.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph4">III</p> - -<p>Florence Wood giggled. "Going to stop the rain again, Captain Schnell?"</p> - -<p>The storm was still howling. In the near suburbs, the rain came in -more gracefully draped sheets and the wind was not whirlpooled by the -fluelike canyons between the buildings, but residential rainwater is -just as wet per cubic centimeter as the metropolitan variety.</p> - -<p>"Maybe I should drive up over the lawn," I suggested.</p> - -<p>"Daddy would blow a fuse."</p> - -<p>"We might wait for it to let up."</p> - -<p>"I'd rather not," she said soberly. "It's one thing to be driven home -in a strange car during a cloudburst, but it's something else to sit -out here making it look as if I were paying off by making out."</p> - -<p>It came as a pleasant surprise that she did not consider me a -superannuated gaffer, and it was her youth that allowed her to discuss -parapsychic phenomena without the tongue-in-cheek attitude of the older -know-it-alls. I considered Florence Wood and realized that she was at -least old enough so that I wouldn't be jugged for cradle-robbing so -long as I had a parental acceptance. And I did want someone to talk out -the business of psionics without having someone wind me in a sheet and -ship me to a shrinker.</p> - -<p>And so I said, "If it will smooth things a bit, I'll umbrella you to -the door and make official explanation to the stern and anxious parent."</p> - -<p>"That we'll enjoy," she giggled. "Daddy always says that he doesn't -have to be a mind reader to advise against what my boy friends have in -mind. It'll be fun to face him with a—policeman."</p> - -<p>Darkly, I said, "Most folks don't look upon me as the fun-loving type. -Policemen aren't always welcome, you know."</p> - -<p>"Oh, Daddy will enjoy it. He writes a bit. He'll never be another -Ellery Queen, but he will enjoy talking to a real live captain of -detectives."</p> - -<p>At this point a lot of favorable things took place at once, such as -the arrival of another convenient letup in the storm, the mad rush and -the ringing of the doorbell, the opening of the door and some gasped -introductions as we stood in a little hallway dripping puddles of -rainwater on a small rug.</p> - -<p>"Police Captain—?"</p> - -<p>"Howard Schnell."</p> - -<p>"But Florence isn't—?"</p> - -<p>I laughed at Mrs. Wood. "Not at all. This is just the rescue of a very -wet maiden in distress. When we're not shooting bank robbers, we also -help little old ladies—and lovely young girls—across streets. All in -the day's work, you know."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Wood hauled Florence off, saying something about hot showers and -dry clothing, while Mr. Wood regarded me with interest.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He beat all the way around the bush, trying to ascertain without -actually asking pointblank whether I could spend a few moments, and, if -so, would I like a drink.</p> - -<p>One must not anticipate, so I waited until he'd made his meaning clear. -Then I accepted his offer of some bourbon, refused his offer of a cigar -and settled myself into the chair he waved at.</p> - -<p>I tasted the highball, smiled in approval, and opened the conversation -by saying, "Your daughter tells me that you write, Mr. Wood."</p> - -<p>He smiled wistfully. "Well, I'm not at the stage where the mere -announcement that I am working on a novel causes an immediate -pre-publication sale of seventy thousand copies. You see, I'm still -trying to work out a good association gimmick."</p> - -<p>"A what?"</p> - -<p>"An association gimmick. The name Erle Stanley Gardner, for instance, -always means a story about Perry Mason and the inevitable courtroom -scene full of legal fireworks. Rex Stout has his Nero Wolf, the -fabulous detective who lets his secretary do all the work."</p> - -<p>"And," I added, "John Dickson Carr writes about Gideon Fell, who is an -expert at solving sealed-room mysteries."</p> - -<p>"Exactly!" he said. "I've a series of gimmicks all planned, but I -really need a strong, out-of-the-ordinary character to go along with -them. You see, I propose to write a series of stories about 'perfect -crimes.'"</p> - -<p>"I'm not smart," I said. "I've always assumed that the so-called -'perfect crime' would be one in which the criminal walks off scot-free -with the loot under one arm and the girl on the other."</p> - -<p>He said, "From your point of view, a true 'perfect crime' would -be one in which no clue existed, including the fact of the crime -itself—except those clues that were deliberately planned by the -perpetrator for some purpose of his own. That is your own angle, isn't -it?"</p> - -<p>I nodded. Indeed it was, and it had been expressed in precisely the -same words that I had used in speaking to Chief Weston.</p> - -<p>"However," he went on blandly, "you'll agree that a clue is usually the -result of a mistake, or failure to plan completely, or the result of -some accidental circumstance."</p> - -<p>"Right."</p> - -<p>"But in a 'perfect crime' there would be no error, no mistake."</p> - -<p>"Yes, but aren't you backing yourself into a hole that you've lined -with fish hooks yourself?"</p> - -<p>"Not at all," he replied. "Clues must be cleverly contrived, created, -and established in such a way that the episode is ultimately known -to be crime and not labeled misadventure, suicide, or the like. -Otherwise," he said with a genial smile, "we're writing about a -'perfectly justifiable homicide' instead of a 'perfect crime.'"</p> - -<p>I nodded again.</p> - -<p>"And, of course," he finished, "these clues must also provide precisely -the correct amount of information so that the motive of the criminal is -not only fulfilled, but exposed—if not to one of the characters in the -book, at least to the reader."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Mr. Wood relaxed and sipped his own drink. From somewhere aloft, -a number of individually insignificant traces added up to fairly -reliable evidence that Florence and Mrs. Wood were about to return. I -gathered that the cross-questioning had allayed any parental suspicion.</p> - -<p>I said, "One thing you haven't mentioned," and paused for effect. "To -the Hindu, 'perfection' means the inclusion of an almost imperceptible -flaw so that its maker cannot be accused of presuming to be as good as -God. Is your 'perfect crime' to be perfect in the eyes of the criminal, -or in the eyes of the police?"</p> - -<p>He said, "Ah, Captain Schnell, that is indeed one of my bothersome -problems."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Wood came into the room, followed by Florence. The girl had lost -the soaked-gamin look. She was transformed by modern alchemy into -a poised young woman who forced me to revise my estimated eighteen -several years upward. She nodded affably at her father, smiled at me -and then came over because she noticed that my highball glass was empty.</p> - -<p>I thanked her, and she smiled wide and bright as she asked, "Has Daddy -been giving you the details of his impossible bandit?"</p> - -<p>"Well, in a way."</p> - -<p>Mr. Wood said, "I'm sort of like the standard television -father—incapable of adding two and two without the close supervision -of the female members of my family."</p> - -<p>"I—that is, we—keep telling Daddy he should hire Superman for a hero."</p> - -<p>"You've changed," chuckled Mr. Wood.</p> - -<p>"Changed?"</p> - -<p>"Yesterday you advocated that I hire a detective with telepathy and a -sense of perception."</p> - -<p>"We discussed it on the way home," said Florence.</p> - -<p>"Superman?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"No, this extra-sensory business," said Florence.</p> - -<p>Mr. Wood inquired, "Are you interested in parapsychology, Captain -Schnell?"</p> - -<p>"I've been interested in the subject for a good many years," I answered.</p> - -<p>"Would the public accept it, I wonder," he mused.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Wood said, "A lot of people read psychic books."</p> - -<p>Mr. Wood said plaintively, "I don't want to write psychic books. I want -to write whodunits. But it would solve my problem, wouldn't it? My -series would consist of crimes that would be perfect, except for the -introduction of a Master of Psionics who tells the story in the first -person singular, and who solves the crime by parapsychic power."</p> - -<p>"It might read better if you made your extra-sensory character the -criminal," I suggested.</p> - -<p>He shook his head. "Wouldn't do at all. A criminal with extra-sensory -talent would always win out over the police. There have been only a -very few successful stories written in which the criminal got away."</p> - -<p>"Maybe he wouldn't," I said.</p> - -<p>"But how could he possibly fail?"</p> - -<p>"He might get sloppy."</p> - -<p>"Sloppy! Mind reading every anticipated move?"</p> - -<p>"Or bored."</p> - -<p>"Bored!"</p> - -<p>"One often leads to the other," I told him with a smile. "Which is just -my policeman's way of thinking. From the policeman's point of view, -you're overlooking one rather important angle."</p> - -<p>"Indeed? Well, you must tell me all about it."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Okay," I said. "My point is that you should not view this as a single -incident in the life of an extra-sensory who has turned his talent to -crime, but rather take the overall view. For instance, we can write -the life history of our Psi-man in broad terms. As a schoolboy, he -was considered extraordinarily lucky at games of chance and skilled -in games of manual dexterity; he stood high in schoolwork and at the -same time managed to do it without working very hard. By the time he -enters high school, he realizes that his success is due to some sort of -'sensing' of when things will be right. This increases the efficiency -of his talent and he surges forward and would have become top-of-class -if he hadn't discovered that brilliance in recitation made up for a -lack of handed-in homework.</p> - -<p>"In other words, nothing stands as a real challenge to him. His talents -surmount the obstacles that confront his fellow man. He could collect -corporations or be a labor leader, President or bum. Anything he wants -can be gotten without much fuss. Our Psi-man is primarily interested in -a statistical income sufficient to support him to the dictates of his -ambition. The trick is to achieve, say, twenty grand per annum, in such -a way that the manipulation is never discovered.</p> - -<p>"At first our Psi-man plans meticulously. But soon this process seems -unnecessary because the poor ignorant homo saps don't even know they're -being conned. He has no hard surface against which to whet his nervous -edge, and so he begins to play games. He leaves clues, at first to -ascertain the true level of his fellow man's intelligence and ability. -Next he leaves conflicting clues to see which way the poor dopes will -jump. In a world that scoffs at parapsychic phenomena, he leaves clues -to support the theory that only an extra-sensory criminal could have -done the dastardly deed. Will one of the ignorant apes recognize the -truth? If he does, will he be in a high position, or will he be one of -the diligent ones who fetch coffee for the guy in the upper office? If -the work of a Psi-man is recognized, how will our bright policeman go -about it, and what will he do with the evidence after it's been shown -to him?</p> - -<p>"And so, Mr. Wood, our Psi-man criminal has become bored because there -is no one in the world to challenge him, and he gets sloppy through his -growing contempt for the antlike activities of his fellow creatures. -At last he shows himself, deliberately taunting them to take action -against him. And that," I concluded, with a nod at him, "might be the -'perfect crime' in which your extra-sensory criminal finally exposes -himself."</p> - -<p>"But why," Mrs. Wood asked in perplexity, "would such a talented person -turn to crime—or do you think that all extra-sensory people—"</p> - -<p>I turned to smile at her. "Mrs. Wood, I was not speaking of -extra-sensory people as a statistical body. I was referring to one -particular character."</p> - -<p>"I find him hard to believe in."</p> - -<p>"On the contrary, my dear," said Mr. Wood, "Captain Schnell has drawn -an amazingly accurate thumbnail sketch of our Psi-man, and I daresay -that he could go on and on, filling in more minute details."</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes, indeed," I said. "But I must leave it up to the professional -writer to tell what the brilliant policeman does when he recognizes the -work as that of an extra-sensory. For instance, does he become bold -enough to mention it to Chief Weston, or to Commissioner Stone? Or will -he confine his discussion to the company of a rain-soaked young woman -so circumstantially available and coincidentally willing to discuss -Psionics?"</p> - -<p>"Captain Schnell," breathed Florence Wood, "what on Earth are you -talking about?"</p> - -<p>"Your father," I said.</p> - -<p>Mr. Wood stepped into the breach. "Captain Schnell was dramatizing for -your benefit, I'm sure. Because Captain Schnell knows very well how -impossible it is to surprise a telepath into revealing himself."</p> - -<p>Florence Wood's expression changed to a mildly bothered smile. "It -certainly sounded as if he were accusing you of something."</p> - -<p>"You mean—like—<i>mind reading</i>?" he asked with a big belly laugh that -closed the subject.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph4">IV</p> - -<p>By most of the rules of society, both Mr. Wood and I were guilty of -gross gentility. He greeted me overtly as the welcome guest and needled -me with a show of patronizing tolerance as he implied that my basic -interest was in Florence.</p> - -<p>To match him, I accepted his hospitality and made use of the proximity -to spy on him and his family.</p> - -<p>There are ways and means of making a pretended deaf-mute reveal -himself—the human being does not live who will not leap halfway out -of his skin at the shock of an unexpected revolver shot, no matter how -well trained he is at feigning deafness.</p> - -<p>As for surprising a telepath, I knew it wouldn't work, but I had to -try it anyway. I put both Mrs. Wood and Florence through a number of -mental hurdles. To this, Mr. Wood took a quietly tolerant attitude. He -understood and was prepared to accept as healthily normal a certain -amount of lust and carnal conjecture in the minds of males who were -interested in his daughter. He forgave me for mentally insulting his -wife because he knew that my mental peregrinations were only aimed at -determining whether his wife was telepathic. Finally he came out flatly -and told me to stop wasting my effort, because neither Florence nor -Mrs. Wood had a trace of extra-sensory power. Their lack of shocked or -outraged response was not a case of the well-trained telepath divining -my intention and planning a blank response.</p> - -<p>Furthermore, Mr. Wood asserted that neither of them knew of his -extra-sensory faculty, that he fully intended to keep it that way, and -that I should know damned well that such stunts wouldn't work in the -first place.</p> - -<p>And so I continued to enjoy a dinner now and then, and occasionally the -company of Florence.</p> - -<p>Ultimately the lack of progress brought Chief Weston's nervous system -to the blowup point. He called me in and I went, knowing that trouble -cannot always be avoided, and when it can't, it's just plain sense to -kick out the props and have done with it.</p> - -<p>He plowed right in: "And what in hell have you been doing?"</p> - -<p>"Chief, I've been—"</p> - -<p>"You put a make-team on some half-baked writer named Wood."</p> - -<p>"Edward Hazlett—"</p> - -<p>"Because," he yelled, "the first person you saw when you stuck your -nose outside of Gordon Andrews' apartment was Florence Wood!"</p> - -<p>"Well, Chief, you see—"</p> - -<p>"You perhaps suspected that she'd just walked through the wall of -that apartment? And naturally you pulled out your hip-pocket crime -laboratory and checked that umbrella tip for bloodstains before you -threw it aside."</p> - -<p>"Well, you see—"</p> - -<p>"Schnell, would you have been so damned gallant if she'd been an ugly -old hag in a ratty dress carrying a dead halibut wrapped in an old -newspaper?"</p> - -<p>"But you see—"</p> - -<p>"So you leap into gallant action, and after you've rescued the fair -maiden from her watery grave, you suddenly find it desirable to use a -department automobile to deliver the damsel home."</p> - -<p>"But—"</p> - -<p>"Schnell, I'll bet that Wood girl wasn't any wetter than you were. And -that's how you put the long arm of coincidence to work?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was more than coincidence. Florence Wood had been in that soaking -rain and whipping wind for more than an hour. Any housewife would have -corroborated my statement that only a prolonged soaking can achieve -a truly wet-through-the-seams condition. Oh, Daddy Wood was just the -guy to think of a stunt like saturating the seams and fibers of his -daughter's clothing by agitating the water supersonically at high -amplitude, but, let's face it, that would have beaten hell out of her -soft white skin.</p> - -<p>As for the umbrella, the wound could indeed have been made by a -rapierlike thrust. But a comparison between the depth of the wound -and the length of the tip showed that the bottom of the wound could -not have been reached without forcing part of the umbrella itself -into the victim's body. The face of the wound showed no such outsize -penetration, hence the umbrella was not the sought-for weapon.</p> - -<p>At this point, Chief Weston's telephone interrupted him and he snatched -it up, bellowed his name, and then listened. Finally he snarled that it -was for me and fairly hurled the handset at me.</p> - -<p>I caught it at the end of its cord and said: "Captain Schnell, Special -Detail—"</p> - -<p>"Oh, I know it is you, Captain Schnell," said the suave voice of -Edward Hazlett Wood. "I just wanted to tell you that your analysis of -the umbrella's uselessness as evidence was quite brilliant. Also your -logic in the matter of my daughter's rain-soaked clothing was clever. I -really don't regret the chewing out you are getting. You deserve it. I -was hoping to find you bright enough to avoid it. Anyway, can we expect -you for dinner this evening?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," I snapped, and hung up, thinking a few things that would have -called for a terse reprimand about foul and abusive language if -telepathy were administered by the Federal Communications Commission.</p> - -<p>"Wood?" snapped Chief Weston.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Date?" he snarled.</p> - -<p>I groaned. Wood did have the nasty telepath's ability to maneuver me -into a situation that I could not conveniently avoid.</p> - -<p>"When they start calling the office to pester you for dates—"</p> - -<p>"I know what I'm doing!"</p> - -<p>"So do I!" he yelled. "You're doing nothing!"</p> - -<p>"Listen, Chief, I'll admit the long arm of coincidence, but you'll have -to admit that when there's trouble, I'm usually the first one to smell -it."</p> - -<p>"So how do you connect them up?"</p> - -<p>"Chief, I walk out of that apartment with your own words ringing in my -ears. 'Looks like the classical setup for a "perfect crime,"' you said. -And then I meet this girl who just happens to have a father who writes -whodunits and is planning a series of books based upon the 'perfect -crime.'"</p> - -<p>"Maybe," sneered Chief Weston, "the guy is a mind reader."</p> - -<p>"I've given even that some consideration."</p> - -<p>"So I hear tell."</p> - -<p>"Any objections?" I asked.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Objections? I've got a lot of objections!" he howled. "This is a -police department, not a soothsayers' convention! We're subject to -enough criticism as it is. You needn't have added the act that makes us -look like a bunch of damned fools."</p> - -<p>"But, Chief, I—"</p> - -<p>"So what do I hear tell?" He hauled the tray drawer of his desk -open and pulled out one of the tabloids, opened to one of its -hate-everything columnists. "Listen! 'In recent years the legality of -the famous witchcraft trials of the past has been subject to debate, -with the result that these past convictions have now been declared -"miscarriages of justice." Posthumously, I must unhappily add. However, -there has been little or no amendment to the laws against witchcraft, -wizardry, charms, amulets and spells.</p> - -<p>"'But brace yourselves, citizens. One of our younger and more brilliant -captains of detectives has shown an interest recently in parapsychics -and may be training to track down criminals by the application of -extra-sensory detection. If this be true, the laws will have to be -ruptured to permit him to secure evidence, since it is a tenet of the -law that evidence must be secured through legal methods and processes.</p> - -<p>"'Fortune Tellers of the World, Arise! You have nothing to lose but -your crystal balls!'"</p> - -<p>Chief Weston slapped the paper down. "What do you think of that?"</p> - -<p>I said, "He's just making noise. Telepathy has nothing in common with—"</p> - -<p>"I wish I could stop you from even <i>thinking</i> about telepathy!"</p> - -<p>"If you could," I said calmly, "you'd have to be telepathic to -determine when I had violated your dictum—and if you were telepathic, -Chief, you'd have been on my side from the beginning."</p> - -<p>He merely glared at me. At this moment I should have been expecting the -worst, and prepared to meet it. But please remember that there's always -that mental block against prying, especially when the United States -mail is concerned. But now Edward Hazlett Wood was about to show me how -a real extra-sensory sharpshooter clobbers his enemies.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Weston's secretary entered, carrying a package.</p> - -<p>I saw it, knew at once what it was, and groaned with despair. The only -chance I saw of getting out of this was the forlorn hope that Weston -would believe the package was a dig, probably mailed by the sniping -columnist.</p> - -<p>It was cleverly contrived. The addressee's name had been blurred and -half-obliterated so that it couldn't have been quietly dropped on my -desk where I could have disposed of its damning contents quietly. It -had, of course, come special delivery, urgent, immediate handling. If -I were a believer in amulets, witches and spells, I'd have been of the -opinion that an <i>aura</i> of urgency had been created about the box.</p> - -<p>Chief Weston's secretary handed it to him with a mumbled suggestion -that it seemed to be important, and perhaps it should be opened in -hopes that the contents would convey information as to the identity -of the owner.</p> - -<p>I said nothing.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Inside the package was a fine crystal ball, a set of tarot cards with -a thick book of explanations, and a second deck of cards the like of -which most people have heard but few have actually seen. These were the -square, circle, wiggly line cards used in parapsychic research.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus2.jpg" width="350" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>There was the damning evidence of a packing slip with my name clearly -printed on it, and a rubber stamp notation that the merchandise order -had been accompanied by a prepaid postal note.</p> - -<p>The timing was perfect. The problem of keeping that package on schedule -all the way from its point of origin to its devastating delivery must -have taxed Wood's faculties, but he'd done it.</p> - -<p>Chief Weston's choler rose visibly, and in a voice loud enough to be -heard in Asbury Park, he yelled: "Schnell, did you—buy—this?"</p> - -<p>I was trapped. No matter what I said, it was calculated to get me into -trouble. For in the petty cash box in the secretary's desk was a petty -cash slip made out in the amount of thirty-nine dollars and seventeen -cents for a postal money order payable to the Aladdin Novelty Company -of Bayonne, New Jersey. The signature was good enough for me to accept -it myself. All along the line it had been nicely legal—or would have -been if I'd really signed that petty cash slip.</p> - -<p>If it came to an argument, I'd have to perform miracles to prove my -innocence.</p> - -<p>"Schnell," said Weston in a cold, level voice, "you'll get me a lead on -the Gordon Andrews murder by tomorrow night or hand me your badge."</p> - -<p>I fumed in silence because there was nothing to say.</p> - -<p>"Get out!"</p> - -<p>As I closed the door behind me, I heard the crash of the crystal ball -hitting the wall. Luckily he hadn't hurled it at the glass panel in his -office door.</p> - -<p>My own phone was ringing as I approached my desk. I picked it up -wearily and said, "Very clever, Mr. Wood. Very damned clever."</p> - -<p>He said, "Your basic difficulty, Captain Schnell, is that you have -sworn to uphold the law and are compelled to employ legal methods. You -must always work within the framework of the law. You would not think -of tampering with the United States mails, even to save yourself from -an unjust charge."</p> - -<p>"Wood, if I make a single move outside of the law, you'll use it -against me, won't you?"</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid that's the way it has to be. You play according to your -rules and I'll play according to mine."</p> - -<p>"Well, now, Mr. Wood, in our philosophy there may be strength. -Remember, upon the day that the forces of law and order must violate -their own concepts in order to effect their own ends, on that day law -and order ceases to be the goal of honest men."</p> - -<p>"Spoken like an idealist!"</p> - -<p>Hanging up a telephone is not polite, but in this case hanging up did -not snap the link of communication.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph4">V</p> - -<p>An angry man is a poor fighter. I sat shuffling papers on my desk, half -of my intellect raging helplessly. Finally I forced myself to sit and -read the papers on the desk, even though I knew every word on every one -of them.</p> - -<p>One reported that Wood had been one of the less conspicuous partners -in a very successful personnel-placement agency. I could have added a -penciled note that a telepath should make a very successful personnel -manager.</p> - -<p>Another said that Florence Wood was employed as a safety deposit vault -clerk in the Third National Bank. This didn't bother me. What the -standard human gets out of staring at a solid phalanx of safety deposit -boxes is a headache, not perceptive-gained information.</p> - -<p>There was a medical report that Wood had undergone a mild coronary -occlusion some months ago which had hastened his retirement. I wondered -whether his retirement had been hastened by a real coronary occlusion -or whether he'd used his extra-sensory power to fake the symptoms and -control the doctor's instruments.</p> - -<p>Among the papers was a complete dissertation on the stab-wound in -Gordon Andrews' chest. There was no trace of any foreign body; the -wound did not go all the way through the chest cavity. It was not clean -cut, as if made by a sharpened weapon, but more like the semi-rounded -end of an umbrella or a blunt, heavy spike. In the opinion of the -medical examiner, the wound had been made with a rapid thrust, but it -looked as if there had been no withdrawal. An inspection of the wound -for traces of excess water (icicles) or carbon dioxide (dry ice) had -failed to disclose any plausible weapon or projectile that could have -evaporated or sublimed out of existence.</p> - -<p>I longed to suggest that a test be made for air. If a kinematic can -create pyrotic effects by agitation of the molecules in something to -be ignited, a good kinematic could make Maxwell's Demon go to work for -him. Like compressing a volume of air into a .38 slug and projecting it -at revolver velocity.</p> - -<p>And in the end I was not leafing the reports or reading them. I was -really staring at the wall. Specifically, I was staring at the -calendar without paying much attention to it, and as I came out of my -reverie I realized that I'd been absorbed in a little red smudge on one -of the dates.</p> - -<p>Association is a funny process. The combination of calendar and red -blob stared at hazily had finally brought my mind around to thinking of -February the fourteenth, which honors a patron saint who has absolutely -nothing to do with Jimmy Valentine, who was reputed to have been a very -fast man with the combination of a safe, especially the type of safe -that Gordon Andrews kept his money in because he did not trust banks, -which may have been a good idea considering that Florence Wood worked -in a bank vault, and her father....</p> - -<p>I jumped out of my office chair just as it tilted over backward. If I -hadn't jumped, I'd have split my skull on the radiator under the window -behind me.</p> - -<p>A heavy brass-edged ruler came up from the desk and swung in a -whistling saber swipe at my face. I ducked in time to let the cut -pass over my head; it clipped a few upstanding hairs. When it reached -the end of its stroke, I wrested it out of Wood's control just to -prove that an alert local force could exert more power than a distant -kinematic force. Naturally I could. Leverage, of course.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Next came a metal-to-metal clicking sound; it was the police positive -in the upper left-hand corner of my desk. I thought strongly, "Psi-man, -you lift that gun and fire it at me through the desk drawer, and the -angle and everything will be enough evidence to change Weston's opinion -from angry rejection of all Psionics to a cold, calculated, vengeful -agreement with everything I've suggested."</p> - -<p>The clicking stopped coming from the desk drawer and resumed in smaller -kind from the little desk lock in the tray drawer of the desk.</p> - -<p>These desk locks can be picked with a bent hairpin, but picking takes -time. Everything takes <i>time</i>. At any rate, it did indeed take Edward -Hazlett Wood a finite time to juggle the little brass tumblers, turn -the main cylinder, retract the sliding bolt, withdraw the desk tray -to unlatch the side drawers, pull open the upper left-hand drawer and -extract my police positive from its holster with its mechanism entering -the firing cycle—which itself takes <i>time</i>.</p> - -<p>By which time I'd vacated my office and was starting across the outer -office floor in the brisk, stiff-legged walk of a man in a hurry to go -a long way fast.</p> - -<p>Wood was stalled. I thought: "Make like a poltergeist, Psi-man—and -convince everybody that you exist!"</p> - -<p>The outer office was a bustle of the usual police activity. But Wood -did not have the ability to invade another mind and take over. At -least, not one of the men in the office suddenly had a fit of homicidal -mania with Captain Schnell listed as the first victim.</p> - -<p>And so I made Weston's office and shoved my head in through the outer -door and yelled: "Weston—Third National Bank—and make it fast!"</p> - -<p>I turned and headed outside as Weston started the usual top-brass -routine of wanting to know all of the infinitely variable reasons why -he should leave his office at all, let alone right now. With no one to -fire delaying questions at, and with a growing realization that he was -not going to learn a thing by sitting there in fulmination, he followed.</p> - -<p>I paid no more attention to him once I knew he was on his way.</p> - -<p>I had my own hands full.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Considering the general reliability of the average internal combustion -engine in the face of neglect, abuse and the natural ravages of -weather, the automobile engine is a brute-force mechanism completely -unable to support a psychosis. I was, however, appalled to discover -just how many little thumb-valves, levers, wires, doo-dads, cams, -gizmos and kadodies there are, each of which must be adjusted within -ridiculously narrow limits before the so-called brute-force mechanism -will deign to turn a gear. But again, and luckily, making adjustments -and maladjustments takes time. And by the logical rules of classical -mechanics, the simple maladjusting turn of a screw valve takes no -longer to return to adjustment provided the restorer is as bright and -as quick as the wrecker.</p> - -<p>We worked our way through it like a pair of fencers or ju jitsu -professionals going through the formal ritual of opening their -engagement.</p> - -<p>He fastened on the starting system, but I licked him cold on that one -because the ignition key controls the starter relay switch and I could -handle both with one hand.</p> - -<p>He tried to block the starting relay, but the armature had started -before he arrived with his kinematic barrier and the solid -mechanico-electrical power carried the armature home.</p> - -<p>He made a futile attempt to flummox up the laws of Mr. Ohm, but he did -not have the power to prevent amperes from flowing from the battery -into the starting motor. By the time he thought of gumming up the -bendix, the gear had meshed against the flywheel and the engine was -turning over.</p> - -<p>He tried to flood the engine, but I held the choke valve just as I -wanted it. He fiddled with the breaker-points and I blocked that until -one of the cylinders fired. That kicked the whole engine into life -and made the engine far too rapid to control, moving member by moving -member. This caused his attention to turn to the needle valves, but as -fast as he turned them out, I turned them back in again. He hit the -choke again and I parried his thrust.</p> - -<p>The engine kicked over, caught, spluttered and backfired, and then -went into an erratic running that smoothed out slightly as it warmed. -I wasted no time; I kicked her into gear and took off in a jack-rabbit -start with my siren wailing.</p> - -<p>Exultantly, I thought: "Can you hit a moving target, Psi-man?"</p> - -<p>Yes, you can stop an internal combustion engine turning at three -thousand revolutions per minute by yanking off the ignition system. But -not when your opponent is doing everything in his power to prevent you, -and not when both of you are traveling at sixty or more miles per hour -and you have a rougher driving course than he.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>My own siren was clearing my way, driving motorists to the shelter of -the side streets and parking places, and causing my fellow policemen -to take charge blocks ahead to clear the path for the vehicle that had -the right to exceed the city speed limit. My worthy opponent drove at -sixty miles per hour at his own risk, trying to race me to the Third -National Bank.</p> - -<p>Wood's extra-sensory driving was no better than mine. The traffic -pattern was clear to both of us. But who should know better than a -policeman what the average motorist will do in the face of an emergency?</p> - -<p>He took the time now and then to hurl something at me, but this was not -very effective. If you think not, figure how many things you can see -and use as weapons while driving at sixty.</p> - -<p>And, too, he was also fighting the unfavorable end of a missile-problem -called "terminal control," which simply states that any guided missile -approaching its target is subject to greater and greater interference -by the enemy as it gets closer. Wood's near-misses I ignored with a -disdain calculated to make him furious, and his near-hits I blocked -with an ease that proved my ability to outguess and outmaneuver him.</p> - -<p>I chuckled to myself, for Edward Hazlett Wood had been played -off-balance. He'd committed the hysterical mistake of fighting me on -my ground instead of his. He had thrust and I'd parried and advanced, -forcing him to thrust again before he could recover. He'd been fighting -in the very odd position of conducting a vigorous offensive while -back-stepping in inexorable retreat. He should have run and run until -he was clear enough to prepare a single telling blow.</p> - -<p>And so ultimately I came to the front of the Third National Bank in a -screeching halt. I stepped under a falling cornice, neatly avoided a -revolving door that tried to slice me, and side-stepped the bronze bust -of Salmon P. Chase that toppled from its niche of honor above the door. -I evaded the erratic rolling of a pencil, and I trod with unerring step -on a circular patch of invisible stuff that was as slippery as the -proverbial frictionless lubricant. The slick flowed forward and down -over the stairs as I hurried below; I held myself erect above it by -sheer will power.</p> - -<p>As I strode toward the safe-deposit vault, I thought exultantly: -"You're outpointed, Psi-man!"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph4">VI</p> - -<p>Florence Wood looked up from her little desk and cried, "Why, Captain -Schnell! How nice to see you!"</p> - -<p>"Hello," I said with a smile. "I hope you won't mind my company for a -while."</p> - -<p>"I'm not likely to go for a stroll in—Captain Schnell! Don't—"</p> - -<p>Seven and one-half tons of finely wrought and polished tool-steel -alloy swung on delicately balanced hinges, coming to rest with the -metal-to-metal sound of machined surfaces sliding into a perfect fit -with its precision-matched receptacle. Its piston-fit made a pressure -on our eardrums. Then the automatic switches took over and motors -whirred in solid muffled harmony as the massive bars slid out of their -nests into the polished slots.</p> - -<p>The ponderous operation that sealed the two of us off from the outside -world behind a barrier of drill-proof and burglar-proof and blast-proof -solidity concluded not with the mechanical fanfare it deserved, but -with a gentle little <i>click</i> that was as final as the Word of God.</p> - -<p>"—do that!" gasped Florence Wood, weakly finishing her admonition.</p> - -<p>She stared at me.</p> - -<p>The knowledge that this bank vault door was equipped with a time-lock -that would not permit it to be opened except in the interval between -nine-fifteen and nine-thirty in the morning of any working weekday -ceased to be mere information and became vitally important to Florence -Wood.</p> - -<p>So did the secondary knowledge that the bank vault was also contrived -in available volume to limit the breathable air. There was not enough -to support the average human adult overnight until opening time -tomorrow morning. Now there were two of them entombed in it—<i>and she -was one of them</i>!</p> - -<p>"We'll die!" she screamed.</p> - -<p>"Trust me, Florence?"</p> - -<p>She looked dubious. She was not at all willing to regard anyone as -competent who was so foolish as to lock himself into a bank vault—and -her with him.</p> - -<p>Florence was still struggling through her sea of mixed thoughts when -the telephone rang. It was Chief Weston and he bellowed almost loud -enough to hear through the yards of concrete and steel that separated -us.</p> - -<p>"Schnell—what in the bloody hell have you done?"</p> - -<p>"I've shut the vault," I said.</p> - -<p>"You'll die!"</p> - -<p>"I doubt it."</p> - -<p>"How do you propose to get out?" he demanded with heavy sarcasm.</p> - -<p>"Just ask Edward Hazlett Wood—the Psi-man in our midst."</p> - -<p>"Schnell, if you get out of there alive, I'm going to ask for your -resig—"</p> - -<p>"If I get out of here alive, you'll need every faculty I have to keep -our Psi-man jugged for good."</p> - -<p>"You and your extra-sensory—"</p> - -<p>"Chief, get it through your thick skull that I am so convinced I'm -right that I am betting my life on it!"</p> - -<p>"And can you tell me why he is going to give himself away to rescue -you?"</p> - -<p>"Because I have his daughter right here beside me."</p> - -<p>"Schnell—"</p> - -<p>"Stop yacking, Chief. Call me when Wood arrives. I have an emotional -problem on my hands down here."</p> - -<p>"How do you know Wood's coming?"</p> - -<p>"He's been following my every move by telepathy," I said. "And he's -been trying to block me all the way. Oh, he knows all right."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Then I hung up to stop a lot of senseless gab. I turned to Florence, -who was just beginning to understand what I had said and what it meant -to both her and her father. She stood there with shocked eyes regarding -me, and with one hand pressed back against her teeth. She said, "I -don't believe it," in a barely audible voice.</p> - -<p>"It's true, and I'm sorry it's true," I told her.</p> - -<p>"It can't be true."</p> - -<p>"That's what you'd like to believe," I said softly. "But the fact -remains that your father is a killer."</p> - -<p>"I'd rather die."</p> - -<p>"Florence, the choice between death and dishonor is not yours to make. -Whether you live or die is up to your father, who is guilty of placing -you in this awkward position by turning his talents to evil."</p> - -<p>She stared at me. "But—how could you—?"</p> - -<p>"There was no other way but to bait this trap emotionally."</p> - -<p>"So cold and cruel—"</p> - -<p>I nodded. "So were the pioneers who saved one last bullet for their -wives."</p> - -<p>How could I tell this hurt girl that I had looked time and again into -the minds of killers and found them far worse than the deeds they -committed? When the official record states that upon such and such a -date, so and so was punished for his crime, how is he punished for the -harm he did to those who placed their trust in him? I hate them because -they force me to reveal them for what they are, making me an agent of -their betrayal.</p> - -<p>The phone rang again. "Yeah, Chief?"</p> - -<p>"Schnell, Wood's just arrived. What shall I tell him?"</p> - -<p>"Don't bother. He knows it all."</p> - -<p>"Schnell, granting that you are right, why should he show his hand -when he knows—or could easily find out—that the time-lock setting -mechanism is on your side of that vault door?"</p> - -<p>"Sure it is," I replied. "But it's covered by a sheet of five-ply -safety glass."</p> - -<p>"Use your revolver!"</p> - -<p>"Chief, reprimand me for a violation of regulations if you must, but -let me point out that only an idiot would wear a gun when he's pitting -himself against a Psi-man."</p> - -<p>"Got everything figured out, haven't you, Schnell?"</p> - -<p>"Chief," I said, "this affair started in a sealed room, and now it's -going to end in one."</p> - -<p>I yanked on the telephone and pulled it out of its connection block, -snapping that link of communication. Then, to satisfy Edward Hazlett -Wood, I hurled the instrument as hard as I could against the safety -glass. The telephone bounced as if I had thrown it against six solid -feet of battleship plate armor.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I thought: "<i>Psi-man, you are trapped!</i>"</p> - -<p>He thought: "<i>I've killed before, Schnell. Why shouldn't I profess -helplessness and innocence, and accuse you and the whole Police -Department of the stupid and wanton death of my beloved daughter?</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>Because you've erred, Psi-man Wood.</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>Ah, now I have proof! You're a Psi-man, too!</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>Who—me?</i>" I thought without a visible change in my expression for -Florence Wood to see. "<i>You're the one who erred, Wood. You neglected -the rules.</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>Bah—the law! Stupid law</i>—"</p> - -<p>"<i>Not so stupid, Wood. The law is really very sensible. It's strong, -Wood, and it fosters the strength that comes of following it. So you -see, Psi-man Wood, by never, never making any overt use of my talent, -by never admitting that I know more than any clever man can see and -deduce from what he knows—it has now become quite obvious to Chief -Weston that if any such shenanigans as extra-sensory manipulation of -this bank-vault door take place—you're the only one suspected of -parapsychic power!</i>"</p> - -<p>And then the time-lock setting dials clicked around, their tiny noise -muted by the glass door. They came around until they pointed to the -present time. Then came the louder manipulation of outside dial lock, -the heavy click of massive tumblers, and then the solid turning sound -of wheel and mighty lever. The vault door swung open.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus3.jpg" width="600" height="283" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Outside, a pale and speechless man faced me, looking at his daughter. -Weston was shaking his head, but the confusion was clearing. Weston -was a good man, quite willing to operate without a full explanation, -so long as there was a reasonable probability that some reasonable -explanation would come later. The president and four vice-presidents -of the bank stared at their vault door in dismay, wondering how -anyone could from now on rely on any protection if the best of the -vault-maker's art could be opened with such ease.</p> - -<p>And Florence. She started forward with a glad cry, but stopped in -mid-stride as she realized the full truth. In those fractions of a -second, she became the full, mature adult who had been hurt, and who -knew that hurt and pain are not the end.</p> - -<p>She stopped a full yard from him and whispered, "Daddy—you did—it!"</p> - -<p>He looked at her out of frantic eyes. "I didn't! I didn't!"</p> - -<p>Chief Weston took a pair of handcuffs from one of the uniformed cops -and held them up in front of Edward Hazlett Wood's eyes. "Coming -quietly, Wood, or must I weld them on you?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Stunned, knowing that any move he made I would block, the murderer -turned to go.</p> - -<p>I was going to have quite an interesting intellectual problem to solve. -I was going to have to testify that I was clever enough to trap an -extra-sensory criminal without displaying my own extra-sensory talent. -It wasn't just a matter of putting a possible ending to my official -usefulness to the forces of law and order if the facts became known. -One word of suspicion against Captain Howard Schnell and some clever -defense attorney would raise a wholly reasonable doubt as to which -Psi-man opened that vault door.</p> - -<p>And being sworn to uphold the law, and enforce the law within the -framework of the law itself, I'd have to tell the truth, the whole -truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God!</p> - -<p>But, according to the same sensible law, not unless I was specifically -asked.</p> - -<p>And to answer Edward Hazlett Wood's question: The perfect answer to -the perfect crime committed by the perfect criminal is <i>a perfect -retribution</i>.</p> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Undetected, by George O. 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Smith - -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/license - - -Title: The Undetected - -Author: George O. Smith - -Release Date: April 20, 2016 [EBook #51810] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE UNDETECTED *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - The Undetected - - By GEORGE O. SMITH - - Illustrated by FINLAY - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Galaxy Science Fiction December 1959. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - - - - Nothing can possibly be more baffling than - a crime in a sealed room ... but what if the - investigator happens to have an open mind? - - -I - -I took a quick look around the apartment, even though I already knew -what I had to know. - -Gordon Andrews had been slain in his sleep by the quick thrust of some -rapierlike instrument. There was no sign of any struggle. The wall -safe stood with its door open and its contents missing. Every door and -window was closed, locked, burglar-bugged, and non-openable from the -inside; the front door had been forced by the police. Furthermore, it -had been raining in wind-whipped torrents for hours, yet there was no -trace of moisture on any of the floors. - -Of course no one had heard a sound, and naturally there were no -fingerprints. - -Police Chief Weston spied me and snapped, "What do you make of it, -Schnell?" - -I shrugged and said, "Completely sealed room." - -"Got any ideas?" he demanded. - -I had a lot of ideas, but I was not going to express myself without -a lot of stark evidence. I do not yearn to have the prefix "ex-" -installed in front of my title of Captain of Detectives. I'm much too -young to be retired. So instead of trying to explain, I said, "The -_modus operandi_ is--" - -Chief Weston snorted, "Schnell, there isn't a clue in the whole damned -building, and yet you stand there and yap about _modus operandi_?" - -"That's the point, Chief. The cluelessness is itself the _modus -operandi_ that points to--" - -"You talk as if we had a whole file of unsolved, clueless, sealed-room -homicides!" - -"Chief," I said, "a true 'perfect crime' would be one in which no clue -existed, including the fact of the crime itself--except those clues -that were deliberately planned by the perpetrator for some purpose of -his own." - - * * * * * - -He glowered at me. "What are you driving at, Schnell?" - -"I'm trying to convince you that we are faced with a very clever -criminal mind," I said. "A man with a fine talent. One who plans his -crimes so well that they aren't even recognized as criminal." - -"Nonsense. You can't conceal any crime forever." - -"Forever isn't necessary, Chief. Just long enough to cover up -completely, to remove all connection. We don't know how many bank -tellers have been running on reduced salary because they somehow paid -out a hundred in cashing a ten-dollar check. We couldn't demand an -audit of all the big financial accounts in town, to know the why and -wherefore of the transfer of any sum of money larger than the limit of -petty larceny." - -"But now you are talking about a sly, clever operator, Schnell. This is -a plain case of homicide and burglary." - -_Plain?_ Was he kidding himself? - -I smiled crookedly. "Chief, there is no doubt in my mind that our crook -intended to clean out Gordon Andrews' safe without disturbing a soul. -But the imminent awakening of Andrews presented a physical threat that -had to be silenced immediately." - -"So that is the work of your sly thief?" - -"Chief, just remember that Gordon Andrews was an eccentric old sourpuss -who hated to do business with bankers. Now let's suppose that Andrews -had awakened in the morning to find his safe cleaned out. He screeches -for the cops. We come a-roaring in with the fingerprint detail and the -safe specialists and the break-in experts. We find," I said with a -wave of my hand, "everything just as we found it here and now. So we -look Gordon Andrews in the eye and tell him that no one _could_ get -in, no one _had_ gotten in, and that we suspect him of cleaning out -his own safe and yelling 'Copper' to make trouble for the Mayor and -the Commissioner, who refused to appoint him a special detail of city -employees for bodyguards last year." - -"Go on, Schnell," said Chief Weston with deadly patience. - -"The homicide was a spur-of-the-moment necessity. Had it been planned, -the crook would have plugged Andrews with the old man's personal -Banker's Special, which he kept on the bedside table, and made it look -like suicide." - -"Know a lot about Andrews, don't you, Schnell?" - -"What do you mean, Chief?" - -"About the Banker's Special." - -"I have an excellent memory," I said. "Andrews had a license for the -thing. The serial number is 233,467,819 and the gun and license were -acquired on August seventh, 1951." - - * * * * * - -The Chief sarcastically grunted, "Has it been fired since?" - -"It was fired six times at the date of delivery by the police -laboratory for the land-mark records," I said. - -"Let's not try being funny, Schnell. This is a serious business. -Andrews was an eccentric old curmudgeon, but he was also a -philanthropist, and the papers will be after our throats if we don't -come up with this super-criminal." - -"He's going to be damned tough, Chief." - -"Okay, this is your project. Nothing else matters until he's caught and -convicted--of homicide committed during the course of grand robbery, -meaning automatic hot seat." - -I nodded slowly. - -"Just remember, Schnell--the whole department's behind you," Chief -Weston assured me. - -I continued to nod, but his assurance didn't reassure me in the least. -With about ninety-eight per cent of the general public still not -quite willing to accept rockets, missiles and space travel, I had a -fat chance of convincing anybody that a telepath had kept guard over -the slumbering mind of Gordon Andrews, while a perceptive solved the -combination to the wall safe, so that a kinematic could twirl the -dial; that the imminent awakening of Gordon Andrews had indeed been an -imminent physical threat to a delicate extra-sensory undertaking, and -that therefore he had been silenced by the kinematic, with a weapon -located by the perceptive, after warning from the telepath; after which -the crime had continued, with the loot being floated by a levitator -along a freeway explored by the perceptive and scouted by the telepath -and cleared of barriers by the kinematic who opened and debugged them -as he went along--and that the real topper for this whopper was that -this operation was not the integrated effort of a clever gang of -extra-sensory specialists, but rather the single-handed accomplishment -of one highly talented Psi-man! - -A Psi-man ruthless enough to kill before he would permit his victim to -watch the turning dial, the floating loot, the opening portal, simply -because there stood a probability that one of the two billion persons -on Earth might suspect the phenomena as parapsychical activity, instead -of the hallucinatory ravings of a rich old eccentric who hated the -incumbent political party! - -How best to keep a secret? - -Let no one suspect that any secret exists! - - -II - -The rain was still coming down in wind-whipped torrents that slatted -along the avenue in drenching sheets. Huddled in the scant cover of the -apartment door was a girl of about eighteen. The raincoat she wore was -no protection; the wind drove the rain up under it. Womanlike, she was -struggling with the ruins of a fashionable little umbrella instead of -abandoning it for the tangled mess that it was. - -She looked at me as I opened the door. She was without guile. She was -wet and miserable and determined to take whatever help was proffered, -and hope afterward that no unfair advantage would be taken of the -situation. - -I showed her my I.D. card and she read: "Howard Schnell, Captain, -Special Detail." Her face changed from cautious immobility to a sort -of wet animation, and she added as if it were important under the -circumstances to be completely open, "I'm Florence Wood." - -I took the ruined umbrella from her unresisting hand and stood it in -the foyer for the janitor to dispose of, and pointed out across the -rain-ponded sidewalk to the police car. It was almost high noon, but -the rain was so heavy that the identity of the car was by no means -conspicuous from the apartment door. Florence Wood nodded as she caught -sight of it. - -I said, "Now, I'll make a run for it and open the door, and get in -first so that I'll be on the driver's side. As soon as I'm out of your -way, just dive in and don't worry about closing the door until you're -out of this rain. Catch?" - -She nodded. - -"I'd play Sir Galahad and give you my foul-weather gear to wear," I -said, "but you're already so wet that it wouldn't do more than keep the -water _in_." - -She smiled at me understandingly. - -Then she looked at me with curiosity because I was standing there -waiting instead of making my dash immediately. I thought of how my -Psi-man could have floated the loot out of an open window and kept the -rain from soaking the floor at the same time. - -So, to make conversation, I said, "I'm waiting until my will power -builds up enough to overcome the forces of gravity, barometric -pressure, and the rest of whatever goes into the making of a howling -downpour like this. Considering that nature is dissipating energy equal -to a couple of hundred atom bombs per second, it takes a bit of time to -collect the necessary amount of mental power." - -Florence Wood laughed. In mere instants she'd changed from -weather-drenched misery to a cheerful sort of discomfort no worse than -many a human has endured for hours at a football game. She said with -amusement, "Captain Schnell, why don't you start the car and drive it -over here? Seems to me it would take less power than stopping this -storm." - -"The law says that it is considered unlawful to operate a motor vehicle -from any position other than the driver's seat," I replied. - - * * * * * - -When the slack in the storm I'd been anticipating finally arrived, I -took advantage of it to make my run across the sidewalk. Miss Wood -followed: her timing was perfect. Everything happened in a continuous -sequence without a stoppage at any point. The door opened and I went -in, landing hard and bouncing deliberately on the seat springs to hunch -myself over; Miss Wood landed and whirled in a flurry of wet skirt and -clammy raincoat, hauling one rain-booted ankle out of the way as the -door swung closed with a solid and satisfying _thunk_. - -I started the car and let the engine idle to warm it up and dry it off. -Then I said, "Part of my duty to the citizen includes protection of his -health and comfort as well as protection from unlawful behavior. So, -where do you wish to be taken?" - -She regarded me out of clear gray eyes. "Don't you know?" she asked -with a quirk at the corner of her mouth. - -"Do I look like a mind reader?" - -"Well, you did slow down the storm." - -I laughed. "Miss Wood, King Canute would have been a hero instead of a -bum if he'd waited until high water before he told the tide to stop. -Now, what gave you any reason to suppose that I am endowed with special -talents?" - -"Well," she said, fumbling through her handbag for the comb, which -naturally was at the bottom, "you did come along when I needed help, -and you did identify yourself when I so much wanted to know--" - -"And since I also remembered that storms as violent as this always have -lulls, you put two and two together? Well, it doesn't require telepathy -to conclude that you are soaked to the skin, that you need and want -help, and that you'd prefer to know just whom you are driving off in a -car with. Any other ideas about my talents?" - -"Well, I should think--" - -"Address first, Miss Wood." - -She gave me an address in a residential district that was the maximum -distance one could get from City Hall and still enjoy the privilege of -paying city taxes. I started the car and headed in that direction. Then -I said, "Now, Miss Wood, let's go on with your little fancy." - -"Fancy?" - -"You've been moonbeaming about a little courtroom drama where twelve -good telepaths and true are reading the mental testimony of a witness -who had located some vital bit of evidence by perception and brought it -to light by kinematic power." - -"Well, it does seem that any truly gifted person would work for the -good of humanity." - -"I doubt that being gifted with a sense of perception would -automatically endow a man with a sense of honor." - -"But doesn't it seem just _awful_ to think of anything as miraculous as -telepathy being used for--for--" - -She was trying to avoid the word "immoral" because she was of an age -and experience that felt sensitive about its use. Unfortunately the -only substitute was the word "sin." - -I came to her rescue. "It's deplorable but true that nothing was ever -developed for the benefit of mankind without a few sharpshooters -quickly figuring out some way to make it pay them a dishonest buck." - -"But it would be frightfully hard to bamboozle a telepathic policeman, -wouldn't it?" she asked hopefully. - - * * * * * - -I thought of my PSI-man, whose only mistake in the sealed room murder -of Gordon Andrews had been in being _so_ good that he'd actually -disclosed the existence of a criminal who employed Psi faculties. - -"Wouldn't that depend upon whether the policeman or the criminal was -the more talented?" I parried. "But that supposes that the police force -would have a corps of Psi policemen." - -"Wouldn't they?" - -"Honey-chile," I said, "at the first thin hint that the Commissioner -was even interested in the possibility of hiring someone who knew -what the term 'parapsychic phenomena' really meant, there would be a -universal howl against 'Thought Police' so loud that it would shatter -the polar icecaps." - -"But why?" she asked, bewildered. - -"They'd start screaming about 'invasion of privacy,' and cite the Bill -of Rights, and that would be that." - -"You mean that the law has laws against telepathy?" - -"No, it doesn't say anything about telepathy," I admitted, knowing what -was to come next. - -"Well, then?" - -"Don't sound so superior, Miss Wood. At the first attempt, the law -would discover that it had a hell of a lot to say about telepathy and -perception, since they'd definitely affect the interpretation of the -Fourth and Fifth Amendments." - -"I know the Fifth," she said, "but how about the Fourth?" - -"Unreasonable and unwarranted search," I told her. - -"But isn't a man guilty when he's guilty?" - -"I wish it were as simple as that." - -"But why isn't it?" - -"Little Miss Wood, you are now asking me to solve an ethical question -that's been unanswered for more than ten thousand years." I smiled -wistfully. "I am not--repeat not--big enough to answer the following -question: 'Shall a killer in the confessional, who has been given -absolution by his God, subsequently be punished by his fellow man?'" - -"But what has that to do with it?" - -"Let's have _you_ answer one: 'Could you truly bare your secret soul -to God if you suspected that some prying human being was taking it all -down on a tape recorder?'" - -"No, I suppose not." - -"Then our 'Thought Police' would be standing as a human barrier between -any man and his God." - -"I suppose so--but couldn't I _tell_?" - -"Tell?" - -"Tell whether someone was listening to my thoughts?" - -That was another stumper. Does the sign wear out any faster if it's -read? Can the radio transmitter be measured to tell whether the -broadcast has any audience? Does the tree that falls in the forest -barren of animal life generate the same wave-motion as it would if all -the leaves were replaced by active eardrums? There are lots of analogs, -but are any of them valid? - -I said, "If I cry out, how can I know whether I am being heard?" - -And in my mind I made my own reply. I thought in deep concentration: -"_How do you read me, Psi-man?_" - -The response was zero-zero. And it meant--nothing. My Psi-man could -have been following my every thought from the moment that my ringing -telephone summoned me to Gordon Andrews' apartment to the present -instant, so far as I could tell. There was no feeling of intrusion, no -feeling of _presence_. - - -III - -Florence Wood giggled. "Going to stop the rain again, Captain Schnell?" - -The storm was still howling. In the near suburbs, the rain came in -more gracefully draped sheets and the wind was not whirlpooled by the -fluelike canyons between the buildings, but residential rainwater is -just as wet per cubic centimeter as the metropolitan variety. - -"Maybe I should drive up over the lawn," I suggested. - -"Daddy would blow a fuse." - -"We might wait for it to let up." - -"I'd rather not," she said soberly. "It's one thing to be driven home -in a strange car during a cloudburst, but it's something else to sit -out here making it look as if I were paying off by making out." - -It came as a pleasant surprise that she did not consider me a -superannuated gaffer, and it was her youth that allowed her to discuss -parapsychic phenomena without the tongue-in-cheek attitude of the older -know-it-alls. I considered Florence Wood and realized that she was at -least old enough so that I wouldn't be jugged for cradle-robbing so -long as I had a parental acceptance. And I did want someone to talk out -the business of psionics without having someone wind me in a sheet and -ship me to a shrinker. - -And so I said, "If it will smooth things a bit, I'll umbrella you to -the door and make official explanation to the stern and anxious parent." - -"That we'll enjoy," she giggled. "Daddy always says that he doesn't -have to be a mind reader to advise against what my boy friends have in -mind. It'll be fun to face him with a--policeman." - -Darkly, I said, "Most folks don't look upon me as the fun-loving type. -Policemen aren't always welcome, you know." - -"Oh, Daddy will enjoy it. He writes a bit. He'll never be another -Ellery Queen, but he will enjoy talking to a real live captain of -detectives." - -At this point a lot of favorable things took place at once, such as -the arrival of another convenient letup in the storm, the mad rush and -the ringing of the doorbell, the opening of the door and some gasped -introductions as we stood in a little hallway dripping puddles of -rainwater on a small rug. - -"Police Captain--?" - -"Howard Schnell." - -"But Florence isn't--?" - -I laughed at Mrs. Wood. "Not at all. This is just the rescue of a very -wet maiden in distress. When we're not shooting bank robbers, we also -help little old ladies--and lovely young girls--across streets. All in -the day's work, you know." - -Mrs. Wood hauled Florence off, saying something about hot showers and -dry clothing, while Mr. Wood regarded me with interest. - - * * * * * - -He beat all the way around the bush, trying to ascertain without -actually asking pointblank whether I could spend a few moments, and, if -so, would I like a drink. - -One must not anticipate, so I waited until he'd made his meaning clear. -Then I accepted his offer of some bourbon, refused his offer of a cigar -and settled myself into the chair he waved at. - -I tasted the highball, smiled in approval, and opened the conversation -by saying, "Your daughter tells me that you write, Mr. Wood." - -He smiled wistfully. "Well, I'm not at the stage where the mere -announcement that I am working on a novel causes an immediate -pre-publication sale of seventy thousand copies. You see, I'm still -trying to work out a good association gimmick." - -"A what?" - -"An association gimmick. The name Erle Stanley Gardner, for instance, -always means a story about Perry Mason and the inevitable courtroom -scene full of legal fireworks. Rex Stout has his Nero Wolf, the -fabulous detective who lets his secretary do all the work." - -"And," I added, "John Dickson Carr writes about Gideon Fell, who is an -expert at solving sealed-room mysteries." - -"Exactly!" he said. "I've a series of gimmicks all planned, but I -really need a strong, out-of-the-ordinary character to go along with -them. You see, I propose to write a series of stories about 'perfect -crimes.'" - -"I'm not smart," I said. "I've always assumed that the so-called -'perfect crime' would be one in which the criminal walks off scot-free -with the loot under one arm and the girl on the other." - -He said, "From your point of view, a true 'perfect crime' would -be one in which no clue existed, including the fact of the crime -itself--except those clues that were deliberately planned by the -perpetrator for some purpose of his own. That is your own angle, isn't -it?" - -I nodded. Indeed it was, and it had been expressed in precisely the -same words that I had used in speaking to Chief Weston. - -"However," he went on blandly, "you'll agree that a clue is usually the -result of a mistake, or failure to plan completely, or the result of -some accidental circumstance." - -"Right." - -"But in a 'perfect crime' there would be no error, no mistake." - -"Yes, but aren't you backing yourself into a hole that you've lined -with fish hooks yourself?" - -"Not at all," he replied. "Clues must be cleverly contrived, created, -and established in such a way that the episode is ultimately known -to be crime and not labeled misadventure, suicide, or the like. -Otherwise," he said with a genial smile, "we're writing about a -'perfectly justifiable homicide' instead of a 'perfect crime.'" - -I nodded again. - -"And, of course," he finished, "these clues must also provide precisely -the correct amount of information so that the motive of the criminal is -not only fulfilled, but exposed--if not to one of the characters in the -book, at least to the reader." - - * * * * * - -Mr. Wood relaxed and sipped his own drink. From somewhere aloft, -a number of individually insignificant traces added up to fairly -reliable evidence that Florence and Mrs. Wood were about to return. I -gathered that the cross-questioning had allayed any parental suspicion. - -I said, "One thing you haven't mentioned," and paused for effect. "To -the Hindu, 'perfection' means the inclusion of an almost imperceptible -flaw so that its maker cannot be accused of presuming to be as good as -God. Is your 'perfect crime' to be perfect in the eyes of the criminal, -or in the eyes of the police?" - -He said, "Ah, Captain Schnell, that is indeed one of my bothersome -problems." - -Mrs. Wood came into the room, followed by Florence. The girl had lost -the soaked-gamin look. She was transformed by modern alchemy into -a poised young woman who forced me to revise my estimated eighteen -several years upward. She nodded affably at her father, smiled at me -and then came over because she noticed that my highball glass was empty. - -I thanked her, and she smiled wide and bright as she asked, "Has Daddy -been giving you the details of his impossible bandit?" - -"Well, in a way." - -Mr. Wood said, "I'm sort of like the standard television -father--incapable of adding two and two without the close supervision -of the female members of my family." - -"I--that is, we--keep telling Daddy he should hire Superman for a hero." - -"You've changed," chuckled Mr. Wood. - -"Changed?" - -"Yesterday you advocated that I hire a detective with telepathy and a -sense of perception." - -"We discussed it on the way home," said Florence. - -"Superman?" I asked. - -"No, this extra-sensory business," said Florence. - -Mr. Wood inquired, "Are you interested in parapsychology, Captain -Schnell?" - -"I've been interested in the subject for a good many years," I answered. - -"Would the public accept it, I wonder," he mused. - -Mrs. Wood said, "A lot of people read psychic books." - -Mr. Wood said plaintively, "I don't want to write psychic books. I want -to write whodunits. But it would solve my problem, wouldn't it? My -series would consist of crimes that would be perfect, except for the -introduction of a Master of Psionics who tells the story in the first -person singular, and who solves the crime by parapsychic power." - -"It might read better if you made your extra-sensory character the -criminal," I suggested. - -He shook his head. "Wouldn't do at all. A criminal with extra-sensory -talent would always win out over the police. There have been only a -very few successful stories written in which the criminal got away." - -"Maybe he wouldn't," I said. - -"But how could he possibly fail?" - -"He might get sloppy." - -"Sloppy! Mind reading every anticipated move?" - -"Or bored." - -"Bored!" - -"One often leads to the other," I told him with a smile. "Which is just -my policeman's way of thinking. From the policeman's point of view, -you're overlooking one rather important angle." - -"Indeed? Well, you must tell me all about it." - - * * * * * - -"Okay," I said. "My point is that you should not view this as a single -incident in the life of an extra-sensory who has turned his talent to -crime, but rather take the overall view. For instance, we can write -the life history of our Psi-man in broad terms. As a schoolboy, he -was considered extraordinarily lucky at games of chance and skilled -in games of manual dexterity; he stood high in schoolwork and at the -same time managed to do it without working very hard. By the time he -enters high school, he realizes that his success is due to some sort of -'sensing' of when things will be right. This increases the efficiency -of his talent and he surges forward and would have become top-of-class -if he hadn't discovered that brilliance in recitation made up for a -lack of handed-in homework. - -"In other words, nothing stands as a real challenge to him. His talents -surmount the obstacles that confront his fellow man. He could collect -corporations or be a labor leader, President or bum. Anything he wants -can be gotten without much fuss. Our Psi-man is primarily interested in -a statistical income sufficient to support him to the dictates of his -ambition. The trick is to achieve, say, twenty grand per annum, in such -a way that the manipulation is never discovered. - -"At first our Psi-man plans meticulously. But soon this process seems -unnecessary because the poor ignorant homo saps don't even know they're -being conned. He has no hard surface against which to whet his nervous -edge, and so he begins to play games. He leaves clues, at first to -ascertain the true level of his fellow man's intelligence and ability. -Next he leaves conflicting clues to see which way the poor dopes will -jump. In a world that scoffs at parapsychic phenomena, he leaves clues -to support the theory that only an extra-sensory criminal could have -done the dastardly deed. Will one of the ignorant apes recognize the -truth? If he does, will he be in a high position, or will he be one of -the diligent ones who fetch coffee for the guy in the upper office? If -the work of a Psi-man is recognized, how will our bright policeman go -about it, and what will he do with the evidence after it's been shown -to him? - -"And so, Mr. Wood, our Psi-man criminal has become bored because there -is no one in the world to challenge him, and he gets sloppy through his -growing contempt for the antlike activities of his fellow creatures. -At last he shows himself, deliberately taunting them to take action -against him. And that," I concluded, with a nod at him, "might be the -'perfect crime' in which your extra-sensory criminal finally exposes -himself." - -"But why," Mrs. Wood asked in perplexity, "would such a talented person -turn to crime--or do you think that all extra-sensory people--" - -I turned to smile at her. "Mrs. Wood, I was not speaking of -extra-sensory people as a statistical body. I was referring to one -particular character." - -"I find him hard to believe in." - -"On the contrary, my dear," said Mr. Wood, "Captain Schnell has drawn -an amazingly accurate thumbnail sketch of our Psi-man, and I daresay -that he could go on and on, filling in more minute details." - -"Oh, yes, indeed," I said. "But I must leave it up to the professional -writer to tell what the brilliant policeman does when he recognizes the -work as that of an extra-sensory. For instance, does he become bold -enough to mention it to Chief Weston, or to Commissioner Stone? Or will -he confine his discussion to the company of a rain-soaked young woman -so circumstantially available and coincidentally willing to discuss -Psionics?" - -"Captain Schnell," breathed Florence Wood, "what on Earth are you -talking about?" - -"Your father," I said. - -Mr. Wood stepped into the breach. "Captain Schnell was dramatizing for -your benefit, I'm sure. Because Captain Schnell knows very well how -impossible it is to surprise a telepath into revealing himself." - -Florence Wood's expression changed to a mildly bothered smile. "It -certainly sounded as if he were accusing you of something." - -"You mean--like--_mind reading_?" he asked with a big belly laugh that -closed the subject. - - -IV - -By most of the rules of society, both Mr. Wood and I were guilty of -gross gentility. He greeted me overtly as the welcome guest and needled -me with a show of patronizing tolerance as he implied that my basic -interest was in Florence. - -To match him, I accepted his hospitality and made use of the proximity -to spy on him and his family. - -There are ways and means of making a pretended deaf-mute reveal -himself--the human being does not live who will not leap halfway out -of his skin at the shock of an unexpected revolver shot, no matter how -well trained he is at feigning deafness. - -As for surprising a telepath, I knew it wouldn't work, but I had to -try it anyway. I put both Mrs. Wood and Florence through a number of -mental hurdles. To this, Mr. Wood took a quietly tolerant attitude. He -understood and was prepared to accept as healthily normal a certain -amount of lust and carnal conjecture in the minds of males who were -interested in his daughter. He forgave me for mentally insulting his -wife because he knew that my mental peregrinations were only aimed at -determining whether his wife was telepathic. Finally he came out flatly -and told me to stop wasting my effort, because neither Florence nor -Mrs. Wood had a trace of extra-sensory power. Their lack of shocked or -outraged response was not a case of the well-trained telepath divining -my intention and planning a blank response. - -Furthermore, Mr. Wood asserted that neither of them knew of his -extra-sensory faculty, that he fully intended to keep it that way, and -that I should know damned well that such stunts wouldn't work in the -first place. - -And so I continued to enjoy a dinner now and then, and occasionally the -company of Florence. - -Ultimately the lack of progress brought Chief Weston's nervous system -to the blowup point. He called me in and I went, knowing that trouble -cannot always be avoided, and when it can't, it's just plain sense to -kick out the props and have done with it. - -He plowed right in: "And what in hell have you been doing?" - -"Chief, I've been--" - -"You put a make-team on some half-baked writer named Wood." - -"Edward Hazlett--" - -"Because," he yelled, "the first person you saw when you stuck your -nose outside of Gordon Andrews' apartment was Florence Wood!" - -"Well, Chief, you see--" - -"You perhaps suspected that she'd just walked through the wall of -that apartment? And naturally you pulled out your hip-pocket crime -laboratory and checked that umbrella tip for bloodstains before you -threw it aside." - -"Well, you see--" - -"Schnell, would you have been so damned gallant if she'd been an ugly -old hag in a ratty dress carrying a dead halibut wrapped in an old -newspaper?" - -"But you see--" - -"So you leap into gallant action, and after you've rescued the fair -maiden from her watery grave, you suddenly find it desirable to use a -department automobile to deliver the damsel home." - -"But--" - -"Schnell, I'll bet that Wood girl wasn't any wetter than you were. And -that's how you put the long arm of coincidence to work?" - - * * * * * - -It was more than coincidence. Florence Wood had been in that soaking -rain and whipping wind for more than an hour. Any housewife would have -corroborated my statement that only a prolonged soaking can achieve -a truly wet-through-the-seams condition. Oh, Daddy Wood was just the -guy to think of a stunt like saturating the seams and fibers of his -daughter's clothing by agitating the water supersonically at high -amplitude, but, let's face it, that would have beaten hell out of her -soft white skin. - -As for the umbrella, the wound could indeed have been made by a -rapierlike thrust. But a comparison between the depth of the wound -and the length of the tip showed that the bottom of the wound could -not have been reached without forcing part of the umbrella itself -into the victim's body. The face of the wound showed no such outsize -penetration, hence the umbrella was not the sought-for weapon. - -At this point, Chief Weston's telephone interrupted him and he snatched -it up, bellowed his name, and then listened. Finally he snarled that it -was for me and fairly hurled the handset at me. - -I caught it at the end of its cord and said: "Captain Schnell, Special -Detail--" - -"Oh, I know it is you, Captain Schnell," said the suave voice of -Edward Hazlett Wood. "I just wanted to tell you that your analysis of -the umbrella's uselessness as evidence was quite brilliant. Also your -logic in the matter of my daughter's rain-soaked clothing was clever. I -really don't regret the chewing out you are getting. You deserve it. I -was hoping to find you bright enough to avoid it. Anyway, can we expect -you for dinner this evening?" - -"Yes," I snapped, and hung up, thinking a few things that would have -called for a terse reprimand about foul and abusive language if -telepathy were administered by the Federal Communications Commission. - -"Wood?" snapped Chief Weston. - -"Yes." - -"Date?" he snarled. - -I groaned. Wood did have the nasty telepath's ability to maneuver me -into a situation that I could not conveniently avoid. - -"When they start calling the office to pester you for dates--" - -"I know what I'm doing!" - -"So do I!" he yelled. "You're doing nothing!" - -"Listen, Chief, I'll admit the long arm of coincidence, but you'll have -to admit that when there's trouble, I'm usually the first one to smell -it." - -"So how do you connect them up?" - -"Chief, I walk out of that apartment with your own words ringing in my -ears. 'Looks like the classical setup for a "perfect crime,"' you said. -And then I meet this girl who just happens to have a father who writes -whodunits and is planning a series of books based upon the 'perfect -crime.'" - -"Maybe," sneered Chief Weston, "the guy is a mind reader." - -"I've given even that some consideration." - -"So I hear tell." - -"Any objections?" I asked. - - * * * * * - -"Objections? I've got a lot of objections!" he howled. "This is a -police department, not a soothsayers' convention! We're subject to -enough criticism as it is. You needn't have added the act that makes us -look like a bunch of damned fools." - -"But, Chief, I--" - -"So what do I hear tell?" He hauled the tray drawer of his desk -open and pulled out one of the tabloids, opened to one of its -hate-everything columnists. "Listen! 'In recent years the legality of -the famous witchcraft trials of the past has been subject to debate, -with the result that these past convictions have now been declared -"miscarriages of justice." Posthumously, I must unhappily add. However, -there has been little or no amendment to the laws against witchcraft, -wizardry, charms, amulets and spells. - -"'But brace yourselves, citizens. One of our younger and more brilliant -captains of detectives has shown an interest recently in parapsychics -and may be training to track down criminals by the application of -extra-sensory detection. If this be true, the laws will have to be -ruptured to permit him to secure evidence, since it is a tenet of the -law that evidence must be secured through legal methods and processes. - -"'Fortune Tellers of the World, Arise! You have nothing to lose but -your crystal balls!'" - -Chief Weston slapped the paper down. "What do you think of that?" - -I said, "He's just making noise. Telepathy has nothing in common with--" - -"I wish I could stop you from even _thinking_ about telepathy!" - -"If you could," I said calmly, "you'd have to be telepathic to -determine when I had violated your dictum--and if you were telepathic, -Chief, you'd have been on my side from the beginning." - -He merely glared at me. At this moment I should have been expecting the -worst, and prepared to meet it. But please remember that there's always -that mental block against prying, especially when the United States -mail is concerned. But now Edward Hazlett Wood was about to show me how -a real extra-sensory sharpshooter clobbers his enemies. - - * * * * * - -Weston's secretary entered, carrying a package. - -I saw it, knew at once what it was, and groaned with despair. The only -chance I saw of getting out of this was the forlorn hope that Weston -would believe the package was a dig, probably mailed by the sniping -columnist. - -It was cleverly contrived. The addressee's name had been blurred and -half-obliterated so that it couldn't have been quietly dropped on my -desk where I could have disposed of its damning contents quietly. It -had, of course, come special delivery, urgent, immediate handling. If -I were a believer in amulets, witches and spells, I'd have been of the -opinion that an _aura_ of urgency had been created about the box. - -Chief Weston's secretary handed it to him with a mumbled suggestion -that it seemed to be important, and perhaps it should be opened in -hopes that the contents would convey information as to the identity -of the owner. - -I said nothing. - - * * * * * - -Inside the package was a fine crystal ball, a set of tarot cards with -a thick book of explanations, and a second deck of cards the like of -which most people have heard but few have actually seen. These were the -square, circle, wiggly line cards used in parapsychic research. - -There was the damning evidence of a packing slip with my name clearly -printed on it, and a rubber stamp notation that the merchandise order -had been accompanied by a prepaid postal note. - -The timing was perfect. The problem of keeping that package on schedule -all the way from its point of origin to its devastating delivery must -have taxed Wood's faculties, but he'd done it. - -Chief Weston's choler rose visibly, and in a voice loud enough to be -heard in Asbury Park, he yelled: "Schnell, did you--buy--this?" - -I was trapped. No matter what I said, it was calculated to get me into -trouble. For in the petty cash box in the secretary's desk was a petty -cash slip made out in the amount of thirty-nine dollars and seventeen -cents for a postal money order payable to the Aladdin Novelty Company -of Bayonne, New Jersey. The signature was good enough for me to accept -it myself. All along the line it had been nicely legal--or would have -been if I'd really signed that petty cash slip. - -If it came to an argument, I'd have to perform miracles to prove my -innocence. - -"Schnell," said Weston in a cold, level voice, "you'll get me a lead on -the Gordon Andrews murder by tomorrow night or hand me your badge." - -I fumed in silence because there was nothing to say. - -"Get out!" - -As I closed the door behind me, I heard the crash of the crystal ball -hitting the wall. Luckily he hadn't hurled it at the glass panel in his -office door. - -My own phone was ringing as I approached my desk. I picked it up -wearily and said, "Very clever, Mr. Wood. Very damned clever." - -He said, "Your basic difficulty, Captain Schnell, is that you have -sworn to uphold the law and are compelled to employ legal methods. You -must always work within the framework of the law. You would not think -of tampering with the United States mails, even to save yourself from -an unjust charge." - -"Wood, if I make a single move outside of the law, you'll use it -against me, won't you?" - -"I'm afraid that's the way it has to be. You play according to your -rules and I'll play according to mine." - -"Well, now, Mr. Wood, in our philosophy there may be strength. -Remember, upon the day that the forces of law and order must violate -their own concepts in order to effect their own ends, on that day law -and order ceases to be the goal of honest men." - -"Spoken like an idealist!" - -Hanging up a telephone is not polite, but in this case hanging up did -not snap the link of communication. - - -V - -An angry man is a poor fighter. I sat shuffling papers on my desk, half -of my intellect raging helplessly. Finally I forced myself to sit and -read the papers on the desk, even though I knew every word on every one -of them. - -One reported that Wood had been one of the less conspicuous partners -in a very successful personnel-placement agency. I could have added a -penciled note that a telepath should make a very successful personnel -manager. - -Another said that Florence Wood was employed as a safety deposit vault -clerk in the Third National Bank. This didn't bother me. What the -standard human gets out of staring at a solid phalanx of safety deposit -boxes is a headache, not perceptive-gained information. - -There was a medical report that Wood had undergone a mild coronary -occlusion some months ago which had hastened his retirement. I wondered -whether his retirement had been hastened by a real coronary occlusion -or whether he'd used his extra-sensory power to fake the symptoms and -control the doctor's instruments. - -Among the papers was a complete dissertation on the stab-wound in -Gordon Andrews' chest. There was no trace of any foreign body; the -wound did not go all the way through the chest cavity. It was not clean -cut, as if made by a sharpened weapon, but more like the semi-rounded -end of an umbrella or a blunt, heavy spike. In the opinion of the -medical examiner, the wound had been made with a rapid thrust, but it -looked as if there had been no withdrawal. An inspection of the wound -for traces of excess water (icicles) or carbon dioxide (dry ice) had -failed to disclose any plausible weapon or projectile that could have -evaporated or sublimed out of existence. - -I longed to suggest that a test be made for air. If a kinematic can -create pyrotic effects by agitation of the molecules in something to -be ignited, a good kinematic could make Maxwell's Demon go to work for -him. Like compressing a volume of air into a .38 slug and projecting it -at revolver velocity. - -And in the end I was not leafing the reports or reading them. I was -really staring at the wall. Specifically, I was staring at the -calendar without paying much attention to it, and as I came out of my -reverie I realized that I'd been absorbed in a little red smudge on one -of the dates. - -Association is a funny process. The combination of calendar and red -blob stared at hazily had finally brought my mind around to thinking of -February the fourteenth, which honors a patron saint who has absolutely -nothing to do with Jimmy Valentine, who was reputed to have been a very -fast man with the combination of a safe, especially the type of safe -that Gordon Andrews kept his money in because he did not trust banks, -which may have been a good idea considering that Florence Wood worked -in a bank vault, and her father.... - -I jumped out of my office chair just as it tilted over backward. If I -hadn't jumped, I'd have split my skull on the radiator under the window -behind me. - -A heavy brass-edged ruler came up from the desk and swung in a -whistling saber swipe at my face. I ducked in time to let the cut -pass over my head; it clipped a few upstanding hairs. When it reached -the end of its stroke, I wrested it out of Wood's control just to -prove that an alert local force could exert more power than a distant -kinematic force. Naturally I could. Leverage, of course. - - * * * * * - -Next came a metal-to-metal clicking sound; it was the police positive -in the upper left-hand corner of my desk. I thought strongly, "Psi-man, -you lift that gun and fire it at me through the desk drawer, and the -angle and everything will be enough evidence to change Weston's opinion -from angry rejection of all Psionics to a cold, calculated, vengeful -agreement with everything I've suggested." - -The clicking stopped coming from the desk drawer and resumed in smaller -kind from the little desk lock in the tray drawer of the desk. - -These desk locks can be picked with a bent hairpin, but picking takes -time. Everything takes _time_. At any rate, it did indeed take Edward -Hazlett Wood a finite time to juggle the little brass tumblers, turn -the main cylinder, retract the sliding bolt, withdraw the desk tray -to unlatch the side drawers, pull open the upper left-hand drawer and -extract my police positive from its holster with its mechanism entering -the firing cycle--which itself takes _time_. - -By which time I'd vacated my office and was starting across the outer -office floor in the brisk, stiff-legged walk of a man in a hurry to go -a long way fast. - -Wood was stalled. I thought: "Make like a poltergeist, Psi-man--and -convince everybody that you exist!" - -The outer office was a bustle of the usual police activity. But Wood -did not have the ability to invade another mind and take over. At -least, not one of the men in the office suddenly had a fit of homicidal -mania with Captain Schnell listed as the first victim. - -And so I made Weston's office and shoved my head in through the outer -door and yelled: "Weston--Third National Bank--and make it fast!" - -I turned and headed outside as Weston started the usual top-brass -routine of wanting to know all of the infinitely variable reasons why -he should leave his office at all, let alone right now. With no one to -fire delaying questions at, and with a growing realization that he was -not going to learn a thing by sitting there in fulmination, he followed. - -I paid no more attention to him once I knew he was on his way. - -I had my own hands full. - - * * * * * - -Considering the general reliability of the average internal combustion -engine in the face of neglect, abuse and the natural ravages of -weather, the automobile engine is a brute-force mechanism completely -unable to support a psychosis. I was, however, appalled to discover -just how many little thumb-valves, levers, wires, doo-dads, cams, -gizmos and kadodies there are, each of which must be adjusted within -ridiculously narrow limits before the so-called brute-force mechanism -will deign to turn a gear. But again, and luckily, making adjustments -and maladjustments takes time. And by the logical rules of classical -mechanics, the simple maladjusting turn of a screw valve takes no -longer to return to adjustment provided the restorer is as bright and -as quick as the wrecker. - -We worked our way through it like a pair of fencers or ju jitsu -professionals going through the formal ritual of opening their -engagement. - -He fastened on the starting system, but I licked him cold on that one -because the ignition key controls the starter relay switch and I could -handle both with one hand. - -He tried to block the starting relay, but the armature had started -before he arrived with his kinematic barrier and the solid -mechanico-electrical power carried the armature home. - -He made a futile attempt to flummox up the laws of Mr. Ohm, but he did -not have the power to prevent amperes from flowing from the battery -into the starting motor. By the time he thought of gumming up the -bendix, the gear had meshed against the flywheel and the engine was -turning over. - -He tried to flood the engine, but I held the choke valve just as I -wanted it. He fiddled with the breaker-points and I blocked that until -one of the cylinders fired. That kicked the whole engine into life -and made the engine far too rapid to control, moving member by moving -member. This caused his attention to turn to the needle valves, but as -fast as he turned them out, I turned them back in again. He hit the -choke again and I parried his thrust. - -The engine kicked over, caught, spluttered and backfired, and then -went into an erratic running that smoothed out slightly as it warmed. -I wasted no time; I kicked her into gear and took off in a jack-rabbit -start with my siren wailing. - -Exultantly, I thought: "Can you hit a moving target, Psi-man?" - -Yes, you can stop an internal combustion engine turning at three -thousand revolutions per minute by yanking off the ignition system. But -not when your opponent is doing everything in his power to prevent you, -and not when both of you are traveling at sixty or more miles per hour -and you have a rougher driving course than he. - - * * * * * - -My own siren was clearing my way, driving motorists to the shelter of -the side streets and parking places, and causing my fellow policemen -to take charge blocks ahead to clear the path for the vehicle that had -the right to exceed the city speed limit. My worthy opponent drove at -sixty miles per hour at his own risk, trying to race me to the Third -National Bank. - -Wood's extra-sensory driving was no better than mine. The traffic -pattern was clear to both of us. But who should know better than a -policeman what the average motorist will do in the face of an emergency? - -He took the time now and then to hurl something at me, but this was not -very effective. If you think not, figure how many things you can see -and use as weapons while driving at sixty. - -And, too, he was also fighting the unfavorable end of a missile-problem -called "terminal control," which simply states that any guided missile -approaching its target is subject to greater and greater interference -by the enemy as it gets closer. Wood's near-misses I ignored with a -disdain calculated to make him furious, and his near-hits I blocked -with an ease that proved my ability to outguess and outmaneuver him. - -I chuckled to myself, for Edward Hazlett Wood had been played -off-balance. He'd committed the hysterical mistake of fighting me on -my ground instead of his. He had thrust and I'd parried and advanced, -forcing him to thrust again before he could recover. He'd been fighting -in the very odd position of conducting a vigorous offensive while -back-stepping in inexorable retreat. He should have run and run until -he was clear enough to prepare a single telling blow. - -And so ultimately I came to the front of the Third National Bank in a -screeching halt. I stepped under a falling cornice, neatly avoided a -revolving door that tried to slice me, and side-stepped the bronze bust -of Salmon P. Chase that toppled from its niche of honor above the door. -I evaded the erratic rolling of a pencil, and I trod with unerring step -on a circular patch of invisible stuff that was as slippery as the -proverbial frictionless lubricant. The slick flowed forward and down -over the stairs as I hurried below; I held myself erect above it by -sheer will power. - -As I strode toward the safe-deposit vault, I thought exultantly: -"You're outpointed, Psi-man!" - - -VI - -Florence Wood looked up from her little desk and cried, "Why, Captain -Schnell! How nice to see you!" - -"Hello," I said with a smile. "I hope you won't mind my company for a -while." - -"I'm not likely to go for a stroll in--Captain Schnell! Don't--" - -Seven and one-half tons of finely wrought and polished tool-steel -alloy swung on delicately balanced hinges, coming to rest with the -metal-to-metal sound of machined surfaces sliding into a perfect fit -with its precision-matched receptacle. Its piston-fit made a pressure -on our eardrums. Then the automatic switches took over and motors -whirred in solid muffled harmony as the massive bars slid out of their -nests into the polished slots. - -The ponderous operation that sealed the two of us off from the outside -world behind a barrier of drill-proof and burglar-proof and blast-proof -solidity concluded not with the mechanical fanfare it deserved, but -with a gentle little _click_ that was as final as the Word of God. - -"--do that!" gasped Florence Wood, weakly finishing her admonition. - -She stared at me. - -The knowledge that this bank vault door was equipped with a time-lock -that would not permit it to be opened except in the interval between -nine-fifteen and nine-thirty in the morning of any working weekday -ceased to be mere information and became vitally important to Florence -Wood. - -So did the secondary knowledge that the bank vault was also contrived -in available volume to limit the breathable air. There was not enough -to support the average human adult overnight until opening time -tomorrow morning. Now there were two of them entombed in it--_and she -was one of them_! - -"We'll die!" she screamed. - -"Trust me, Florence?" - -She looked dubious. She was not at all willing to regard anyone as -competent who was so foolish as to lock himself into a bank vault--and -her with him. - -Florence was still struggling through her sea of mixed thoughts when -the telephone rang. It was Chief Weston and he bellowed almost loud -enough to hear through the yards of concrete and steel that separated -us. - -"Schnell--what in the bloody hell have you done?" - -"I've shut the vault," I said. - -"You'll die!" - -"I doubt it." - -"How do you propose to get out?" he demanded with heavy sarcasm. - -"Just ask Edward Hazlett Wood--the Psi-man in our midst." - -"Schnell, if you get out of there alive, I'm going to ask for your -resig--" - -"If I get out of here alive, you'll need every faculty I have to keep -our Psi-man jugged for good." - -"You and your extra-sensory--" - -"Chief, get it through your thick skull that I am so convinced I'm -right that I am betting my life on it!" - -"And can you tell me why he is going to give himself away to rescue -you?" - -"Because I have his daughter right here beside me." - -"Schnell--" - -"Stop yacking, Chief. Call me when Wood arrives. I have an emotional -problem on my hands down here." - -"How do you know Wood's coming?" - -"He's been following my every move by telepathy," I said. "And he's -been trying to block me all the way. Oh, he knows all right." - - * * * * * - -Then I hung up to stop a lot of senseless gab. I turned to Florence, -who was just beginning to understand what I had said and what it meant -to both her and her father. She stood there with shocked eyes regarding -me, and with one hand pressed back against her teeth. She said, "I -don't believe it," in a barely audible voice. - -"It's true, and I'm sorry it's true," I told her. - -"It can't be true." - -"That's what you'd like to believe," I said softly. "But the fact -remains that your father is a killer." - -"I'd rather die." - -"Florence, the choice between death and dishonor is not yours to make. -Whether you live or die is up to your father, who is guilty of placing -you in this awkward position by turning his talents to evil." - -She stared at me. "But--how could you--?" - -"There was no other way but to bait this trap emotionally." - -"So cold and cruel--" - -I nodded. "So were the pioneers who saved one last bullet for their -wives." - -How could I tell this hurt girl that I had looked time and again into -the minds of killers and found them far worse than the deeds they -committed? When the official record states that upon such and such a -date, so and so was punished for his crime, how is he punished for the -harm he did to those who placed their trust in him? I hate them because -they force me to reveal them for what they are, making me an agent of -their betrayal. - -The phone rang again. "Yeah, Chief?" - -"Schnell, Wood's just arrived. What shall I tell him?" - -"Don't bother. He knows it all." - -"Schnell, granting that you are right, why should he show his hand -when he knows--or could easily find out--that the time-lock setting -mechanism is on your side of that vault door?" - -"Sure it is," I replied. "But it's covered by a sheet of five-ply -safety glass." - -"Use your revolver!" - -"Chief, reprimand me for a violation of regulations if you must, but -let me point out that only an idiot would wear a gun when he's pitting -himself against a Psi-man." - -"Got everything figured out, haven't you, Schnell?" - -"Chief," I said, "this affair started in a sealed room, and now it's -going to end in one." - -I yanked on the telephone and pulled it out of its connection block, -snapping that link of communication. Then, to satisfy Edward Hazlett -Wood, I hurled the instrument as hard as I could against the safety -glass. The telephone bounced as if I had thrown it against six solid -feet of battleship plate armor. - - * * * * * - -I thought: "_Psi-man, you are trapped!_" - -He thought: "_I've killed before, Schnell. Why shouldn't I profess -helplessness and innocence, and accuse you and the whole Police -Department of the stupid and wanton death of my beloved daughter?_" - -"_Because you've erred, Psi-man Wood._" - -"_Ah, now I have proof! You're a Psi-man, too!_" - -"_Who--me?_" I thought without a visible change in my expression for -Florence Wood to see. "_You're the one who erred, Wood. You neglected -the rules._" - -"_Bah--the law! Stupid law_--" - -"_Not so stupid, Wood. The law is really very sensible. It's strong, -Wood, and it fosters the strength that comes of following it. So you -see, Psi-man Wood, by never, never making any overt use of my talent, -by never admitting that I know more than any clever man can see and -deduce from what he knows--it has now become quite obvious to Chief -Weston that if any such shenanigans as extra-sensory manipulation of -this bank-vault door take place--you're the only one suspected of -parapsychic power!_" - -And then the time-lock setting dials clicked around, their tiny noise -muted by the glass door. They came around until they pointed to the -present time. Then came the louder manipulation of outside dial lock, -the heavy click of massive tumblers, and then the solid turning sound -of wheel and mighty lever. The vault door swung open. - -Outside, a pale and speechless man faced me, looking at his daughter. -Weston was shaking his head, but the confusion was clearing. Weston -was a good man, quite willing to operate without a full explanation, -so long as there was a reasonable probability that some reasonable -explanation would come later. The president and four vice-presidents -of the bank stared at their vault door in dismay, wondering how -anyone could from now on rely on any protection if the best of the -vault-maker's art could be opened with such ease. - -And Florence. She started forward with a glad cry, but stopped in -mid-stride as she realized the full truth. In those fractions of a -second, she became the full, mature adult who had been hurt, and who -knew that hurt and pain are not the end. - -She stopped a full yard from him and whispered, "Daddy--you did--it!" - -He looked at her out of frantic eyes. "I didn't! I didn't!" - -Chief Weston took a pair of handcuffs from one of the uniformed cops -and held them up in front of Edward Hazlett Wood's eyes. "Coming -quietly, Wood, or must I weld them on you?" - - * * * * * - -Stunned, knowing that any move he made I would block, the murderer -turned to go. - -I was going to have quite an interesting intellectual problem to solve. -I was going to have to testify that I was clever enough to trap an -extra-sensory criminal without displaying my own extra-sensory talent. -It wasn't just a matter of putting a possible ending to my official -usefulness to the forces of law and order if the facts became known. -One word of suspicion against Captain Howard Schnell and some clever -defense attorney would raise a wholly reasonable doubt as to which -Psi-man opened that vault door. - -And being sworn to uphold the law, and enforce the law within the -framework of the law itself, I'd have to tell the truth, the whole -truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God! - -But, according to the same sensible law, not unless I was specifically -asked. - -And to answer Edward Hazlett Wood's question: The perfect answer to -the perfect crime committed by the perfect criminal is _a perfect -retribution_. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Undetected, by George O. 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