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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..75a9380 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #61090 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/61090) diff --git a/old/61090-h.zip b/old/61090-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 9359826..0000000 --- a/old/61090-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/61090-h/61090-h.htm b/old/61090-h/61090-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index b9c52a5..0000000 --- a/old/61090-h/61090-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1961 +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 Call Him Nemesis, by Donald E. Westlake. - </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 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } -.ph1 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } - -.ph2 { text-align: right; text-indent: 0em; } -.ph2 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; } - -.ph3 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } -.ph3 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; } - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Call Him Nemesis, by Donald E. Westlake - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: Call Him Nemesis - -Author: Donald E. Westlake - -Release Date: January 3, 2020 [EBook #61090] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CALL HIM NEMESIS *** - - - - -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="359" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<h1>CALL HIM NEMESIS</h1> - -<h2>By DONALD E. WESTLAKE</h2> - -<p class="ph1">Criminals, beware; the Scorpion is on<br /> -your trail! Hoodlums fear his fury—and,<br /> -for that matter, so do the cops!</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1961.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>The man with the handkerchief mask said, "All right, everybody, keep -tight. This is a holdup."</p> - -<p>There were twelve people in the bank. There was Mr. Featherhall at -his desk, refusing to okay a personal check from a perfect stranger. -There was the perfect stranger, an itinerant garage mechanic named -Rodney (Rod) Strom, like the check said. There were Miss English and -Miss Philicoff, the girls in the gilded teller cages. There was Mister -Anderson, the guard, dozing by the door in his brown uniform. There was -Mrs. Elizabeth Clayhorn, depositing her husband's pay check in their -joint checking account, and with her was her ten-year-old son Edward -(Eddie) Clayhorn, Junior. There was Charlie Casale, getting ten dollars -dimes, six dollars nickels and four dollars pennies for his father -in the grocery store down the street. There was Mrs. Dolly Daniels, -withdrawing money from her savings account again. And there were three -bank robbers.</p> - -<p>The three bank robbers looked like triplets. From the ground up, they -all wore scuffy black shoes, baggy-kneed and unpressed khaki trousers, -brown cracked-leather jackets over flannel shirts, white handkerchiefs -over the lower half of their faces and gray-and-white check caps pulled -low over their eyes. The eyes themselves looked dangerous.</p> - -<p>The man who had spoken withdrew a small but mean-looking thirty-two -calibre pistol from his jacket pocket. He waved it menacingly. One of -the others took the pistol away from Mister Anderson, the guard, and -said to him in a low voice, "Think about retirement, my friend." The -third one, who carried a black satchel like a doctor's bag, walked -quickly around behind the teller's counter and started filling it with -money.</p> - -<p>It was just like the movies.</p> - -<p>The man who had first spoken herded the tellers, Mr. Featherhall and -the customers all over against the back wall, while the second man -stayed next to Mr. Anderson and the door. The third man stuffed money -into the black satchel.</p> - -<p>The man by the door said, "Hurry up."</p> - -<p>The man with the satchel said, "One more drawer."</p> - -<p>The man with the gun turned to say to the man at the door, "Keep your -shirt on."</p> - -<p>That was all Miss English needed. She kicked off her shoes and ran -pelting in her stocking feet for the door.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The man by the door spread his arms out and shouted, "Hey!" The man -with the gun swung violently back, cursing, and fired the gun. But he'd -been moving too fast, and so had Miss English, and all he hit was the -brass plate on Mr. Featherhall's desk.</p> - -<p>The man by the door caught Miss English in a bear hug. She promptly did -her best to scratch his eyes out. Meanwhile, Mr. Anderson went scooting -out the front door and running down the street toward the police -station in the next block, shouting, "Help! Help! Robbery!"</p> - -<p>The man with the gun cursed some more. The man with the satchel came -running around from behind the counter, and the man by the door tried -to keep Miss English from scratching his eyes out. Then the man with -the gun hit Miss English on the head. She fell unconscious to the -floor, and all three of them ran out of the bank to the car out front, -in which sat a very nervous-looking fourth man, gunning the engine.</p> - -<p>Everyone except Miss English ran out after the bandits, to watch.</p> - -<p>Things got very fast and very confused then. Two police cars came -driving down the block and a half from the precinct house to the bank, -and the car with the four robbers in it lurched away from the curb and -drove straight down the street toward the police station. The police -cars and the getaway car passed one another, with everybody shooting -like the ships in pirate movies.</p> - -<p>There was so much confusion that it looked as though the bank robbers -were going to get away after all. The police cars were aiming the wrong -way and, as they'd come down with sirens wailing, there was a clear -path behind them.</p> - -<p>Then, after the getaway car had gone more than two blocks, it suddenly -started jouncing around. It smacked into a parked car and stopped. And -all the police went running down there to clap handcuffs on the robbers -when they crawled dazedly out of their car.</p> - -<p>"Hey," said Eddie Clayhorn, ten years old. "Hey, that was something, -huh, Mom?"</p> - -<p>"Come along home," said his mother, grabbing his hand. "We don't want -to be involved."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"It was the nuttiest thing," said Detective-Sergeant Stevenson. "An -operation planned that well, you'd think they'd pay attention to their -getaway car, you know what I mean?"</p> - -<p>Detective-Sergeant Pauling shrugged. "They always slip up," he said. -"Sooner or later, on some minor detail, they always slip up."</p> - -<p>"Yes, but their <i>tires</i>."</p> - -<p>"Well," said Pauling, "it was a stolen car. I suppose they just grabbed -whatever was handiest."</p> - -<p>"What I can't figure out," said Stevenson, "is exactly what made those -tires do that. I mean, it was a hot day and all, but it wasn't <i>that</i> -hot. And they weren't going that fast. I don't think you could go fast -enough to melt your tires down."</p> - -<p>Pauling shrugged again. "We got them. That's the important thing."</p> - -<p>"Still and all, it's nutty. They're free and clear, barrelling out -Rockaway toward the Belt, and all at once their tires melt, the tubes -blow out and there they are." Stevenson shook his head. "I can't figure -it."</p> - -<p>"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth," suggested Pauling. "They picked -the wrong car to steal."</p> - -<p>"And <i>that</i> doesn't make sense, either," said Stevenson. "Why steal a -car that could be identified as easily as that one?"</p> - -<p>"Why? What was it, a foreign make?"</p> - -<p>"No, it was a Chevvy, two-tone, three years old, looked just like half -the cars on the streets. Except that in the trunk lid the owner had -burned in 'The Scorpion' in big black letters you could see half a -block away."</p> - -<p>"Maybe they didn't notice it when they stole the car," said Pauling.</p> - -<p>"For a well-planned operation like this one," said Stevenson, "they -made a couple of really idiotic boners. It doesn't make any sense."</p> - -<p>"What do they have to say about it?" Pauling demanded.</p> - -<p>"Nothing, what do you expect? They'll make no statement at all."</p> - -<p>The squad-room door opened, and a uniformed patrolman stuck his head -in. "The owner of that Chevvy's here," he said.</p> - -<p>"Right," said Stevenson. He followed the patrolman down the hall to the -front desk.</p> - -<p>The owner of the Chevvy was an angry-looking man of middle age, tall -and paunchy. "John Hastings," he said. "They say you have my car here."</p> - -<p>"I believe so, yes," said Stevenson. "I'm afraid it's in pretty bad -shape."</p> - -<p>"So I was told over the phone," said Hastings grimly. "I've contacted -my insurance company."</p> - -<p>"Good. The car's in the police garage, around the corner. If you'd come -with me?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>On the way around, Stevenson said, "I believe you reported the car -stolen almost immediately after it happened."</p> - -<p>"That's right," said Hastings. "I stepped into a bar on my route. I'm -a wine and liquor salesman. When I came out five minutes later, my car -was gone."</p> - -<p>"You left the keys in it?"</p> - -<p>"Well, why not?" demanded Hastings belligerently. "If I'm making just -a quick stop—I never spend more than five minutes with any one -customer—I always leave the keys in the car. Why not?"</p> - -<p>"The car was stolen," Stevenson reminded him.</p> - -<p>Hastings grumbled and glared. "It's always been perfectly safe up till -now."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir. In here."</p> - -<p>Hastings took one look at his car and hit the ceiling. "It's ruined!" -he cried. "What did you do to the tires?"</p> - -<p>"Not a thing, sir. That happened to them in the holdup."</p> - -<p>Hastings leaned down over one of the front tires. "Look at that! -There's melted rubber all over the rims. Those rims are ruined! What -did you use, incendiary bullets?"</p> - -<p>Stevenson shook his head. "No, sir. When that happened they were two -blocks away from the nearest policeman."</p> - -<p>"Hmph." Hastings moved on around the car, stopping short to exclaim, -"What in the name of God is that? You didn't tell me a bunch of <i>kids</i> -had stolen the car."</p> - -<p>"It wasn't a bunch of kids," Stevenson told him. "It was four -professional criminals, I thought you knew that. They were using it in -a bank holdup."</p> - -<p>"Then why did they do <i>that</i>?"</p> - -<p>Stevenson followed Hastings' pointing finger, and saw again the -crudely-lettered words, "The Scorpion" burned black into the paint of -the trunk lid. "I really don't know," he said. "It wasn't there before -the car was stolen?"</p> - -<p>"Of course not!"</p> - -<p>Stevenson frowned. "Now, why in the world did they do that?"</p> - -<p>"I suggest," said Hastings with heavy sarcasm, "you ask them that."</p> - -<p>Stevenson shook his head. "It wouldn't do any good. They aren't talking -about anything. I don't suppose they'll ever tell us." He looked at the -trunk lid again. "It's the nuttiest thing," he said thoughtfully....</p> - -<p>That was on Wednesday.</p> - -<p>The Friday afternoon mail delivery to the <i>Daily News</i> brought a crank -letter. It was in the crank letter's most obvious form; that is, -the address had been clipped, a letter or a word at a time, from a -newspaper and glued to the envelope. There was no return address.</p> - -<p>The letter itself was in the same format. It was brief and to the point:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>Dear Mr. Editor:</p> - -<p>The Scorpion has struck. The bank robbers were captured. The Scorpion -fights crime. Crooks and robbers are not safe from the avenging -Scorpion. WARN YOUR READERS!</p> - -<p class="ph2">Sincerely yours,<br /> -THE SCORPION</p> -</div> - -<p>The warning was duly noted, and the letter filed in the wastebasket. It -didn't rate a line in the paper.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph3">II</p> - -<p>The bank robbery occurred in late June. Early in August, a Brooklyn man -went berserk.</p> - -<p>It happened in Canarsie, a section in southeast Brooklyn near Jamaica -Bay. This particular area of Canarsie was a residential neighborhood, -composed of one and two family houses. The man who went berserk was a -Motor Vehicle Bureau clerk named Jerome Higgins.</p> - -<p>Two days before, he had flunked a Civil Service examination for the -third time. He reported himself sick and spent the two days at home, -brooding, a bottle of blended whiskey at all times in his hand.</p> - -<p>As the police reconstructed it later, Mrs. Higgins had attempted to -awaken him on the third morning at seven-thirty, suggesting that he -really ought to stop being so foolish, and go back to work. He then -allegedly poked her in the eye, and locked her out of the bedroom.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Higgins then apparently called her sister-in-law, a Mrs. Thelma -Stodbetter, who was Mr. Higgins' sister. Mrs. Stodbetter arrived at the -house at nine o'clock, and spent some time tapping at the still-locked -bedroom door, apparently requesting Mr. Higgins to unlock the door and -"stop acting like a child." Neighbors reported to the police that they -heard Mr. Higgins shout a number of times, "Go away! Can't you let a -man sleep?"</p> - -<p>At about ten-fifteen, neighbors heard shots from the Higgins residence, -a two-story one-family pink stucco affair in the middle of a block of -similar homes. Mr. Higgins, it was learned later, had suddenly erupted -from his bedroom, brandishing a .30-.30 hunting rifle and, being -annoyed at the shrieks of his wife and sister, had fired seven shells -at them, killing his wife on the spot and wounding his sister in the -hand and shoulder.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Stodbetter, wounded and scared out of her wits, raced screaming -out the front door of the house, crying for the police and shouting, -"Murder! Murder!" At this point, neighbors called the police. One -neighbor additionally phoned three newspapers and two television -stations, thereby earning forty dollars in "news-tips" rewards.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>By chance, a mobile television unit was at that moment on the Belt -Parkway, returning from having seen off a prime minister at Idlewild -Airport. This unit was at once diverted to Canarsie, where it took up a -position across the street from the scene of carnage and went to work -with a Zoomar lens.</p> - -<p>In the meantime, Mister Higgins had barricaded himself in his house, -firing at anything that moved.</p> - -<p>The two cameramen in the mobile unit worked their hearts out. One -concentrated on the movements of the police and firemen and neighbors -and ambulance attendants, while the other used the Zoomar lens to -search for Mr. Higgins. He found him occasionally, offering the at-home -audience brief glimpses of a stocky balding man in brown trousers and -undershirt, stalking from window to window on the second floor of the -house.</p> - -<p>The show lasted for nearly an hour. There were policemen everywhere, -and firemen everywhere, and neighbors milling around down at the -corner, where the police had roped the block off, and occasionally Mr. -Higgins would stick his rifle out a window and shoot at somebody. The -police used loudspeakers to tell Higgins he might as well give up, they -had the place surrounded and could eventually starve him out anyway. -Higgins used his own good lungs to shout obscenities back and challenge -anyone present to hand-to-hand combat.</p> - -<p>The police fired tear gas shells at the house, but it was a windy day -and all the windows in the Higgins house were either open or broken. -Higgins was able to throw all the shells back out of the house again.</p> - -<p>The show lasted for nearly an hour. Then it ended, suddenly and -dramatically.</p> - -<p>Higgins had showed himself to the Zoomar lens again, for the purpose of -shooting either the camera or its operator. All at once he yelped and -threw the rifle away. The rifle bounced onto the porch roof, slithered -down to the edge, hung for a second against the drain, and finally fell -barrel first onto the lawn.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, Higgins was running through the house, shouting like a -wounded bull. He thundered down the stairs and out, hollering, to fall -into the arms of the waiting police.</p> - -<p>They had trouble holding him. At first they thought he was actually -trying to get away, but then one of them heard what it was he was -shouting: "My hands! My hands!"</p> - -<p>They looked at his hands. The palms and the palm-side of the fingers -were red and blistering, from what looked like severe burns. There was -another burn on his right cheek and another one on his right shoulder.</p> - -<p>Higgins, thoroughly chastened and bewildered, was led away for burn -ointment and jail. The television crew went on back to Manhattan. The -neighbors went home and telephoned their friends.</p> - -<p>On-duty policemen had been called in from practically all of the -precincts in Brooklyn. Among them was Detective-Sergeant William -Stevenson. Stevenson frowned thoughtfully at Higgins as that unhappy -individual was led away, and then strolled over to look at the rifle. -He touched the stock, and it was somewhat warm but that was all.</p> - -<p>He picked it up and turned it around. There, on the other side of the -stock, burned into the wood, were the crudely-shaped letters, "The -Scorpion."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>You don't get to be Precinct Captain on nothing but political -connections. Those help, of course, but you need more than that. As -Captain Hanks was fond of pointing out, you needed as well to be both -more imaginative than most—"You gotta be able to second-guess the -smart boys"—and to be a complete realist—"You gotta have both feet -on the ground." If these were somewhat contradictory qualities, it was -best not to mention the fact to Captain Hanks.</p> - -<p>The realist side of the captain's nature was currently at the fore. -"Just what are you trying to say, Stevenson?" he demanded.</p> - -<p>"I'm not sure," admitted Stevenson. "But we've got these two things. -First, there's the getaway car from that bank job. The wheels melt for -no reason at all, and somebody burns 'The Scorpion' onto the trunk. -Then, yesterday, this guy Higgins out in Canarsie. He says the rifle -all of a sudden got too hot to hold, and he's got the burn marks to -prove it. And there on the rifle stock it is again. 'The Scorpion'."</p> - -<p>"He says he put that on there himself," said the captain.</p> - -<p>Stevenson shook his head. "His <i>lawyer</i> says he put it on there. -Higgins says he doesn't remember doing it. That's half the lawyer's -case. He's trying to build up an insanity defense."</p> - -<p>"He put it on there himself, Stevenson," said the captain with weary -patience. "What are you trying to prove?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know. All I know is it's the nuttiest thing I ever saw. And -what about the getaway car? What about those tires melting?"</p> - -<p>"They were defective," said Hanks promptly.</p> - -<p>"All four of them at once? And what about the thing written on the -trunk?"</p> - -<p>"How do I know?" demanded the captain. "Kids put it on before the car -was stolen, maybe. Or maybe the hoods did it themselves, who knows? -What do <i>they</i> say?"</p> - -<p>"They say they didn't do it," said Stevenson. "And they say they never -saw it before the robbery and they would have noticed it if it'd been -there."</p> - -<p>The captain shook his head. "I don't get it," he admitted. "What are -you trying to prove?"</p> - -<p>"I guess," said Stevenson slowly, thinking it out as he went along, "I -guess I'm trying to prove that somebody melted those tires, and made -that rifle too hot, and left his signature behind."</p> - -<p>"What? You mean like in the comic books? Come on, Stevenson! What are -you trying to hand me?"</p> - -<p>"All I know," insisted Stevenson, "is what I see."</p> - -<p>"And all <i>I</i> know," the captain told him, "is Higgins put that name on -his rifle himself. He says so."</p> - -<p>"And what made it so hot?"</p> - -<p>"Hell, man, he'd been firing that thing at people for an hour! What do -you <i>think</i> made it hot?"</p> - -<p>"All of a sudden?"</p> - -<p>"He noticed it all of a sudden, when it started to burn him."</p> - -<p>"How come the same name showed up each time, then?" Stevenson asked -desperately.</p> - -<p>"How should I know? And why not, anyway? You know as well as I do these -things happen. A bunch of teen-agers burgle a liquor store and they -write 'The Golden Avengers' on the plate glass in lipstick. It happens -all the time. Why not 'The Scorpion'? It couldn't occur to two people?"</p> - -<p>"But there's no explanation—" started Stevenson.</p> - -<p>"What do you mean, there's no explanation? I just <i>gave</i> you the -explanation. Look, Stevenson, I'm a busy man. You got a nutty -idea—like Wilcox a few years ago, remember him? Got the idea there -was a fiend around loose, stuffing all those kids into abandoned -refrigerators to starve. He went around trying to prove it, and getting -all upset, and pretty soon they had to put him away in the nut hatch. -Remember?"</p> - -<p>"I remember," said Stevenson.</p> - -<p>"Forget this silly stuff, Stevenson," the captain advised him.</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," said Stevenson....</p> - -<p>The day after Jerome Higgins went berserk, the afternoon mail brought a -crank letter to the <i>Daily News</i>:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>Dear Mr. Editor,</p> - -<p>You did not warn your readers. The man who shot all those people could -not escape the Scorpion. The Scorpion fights crime. No criminal is -safe from the Scorpion. WARN YOUR READERS.</p> - -<p class="ph2">Sincerely yours,<br /> -THE SCORPION</p> -</div> - -<p>Unfortunately, this letter was not read by the same individual who had -seen the first one, two months before. At any rate, it was filed in the -same place, and forgotten.</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph3">III</p> - -<p>Hallowe'en is a good time for a rumble. There's too many kids around -for the cops to keep track of all of them, and if you're picked up -carrying a knife or a length of tire chain or something, why, you're on -your way to a Hallowe'en party and you're in costume. You're going as a -JD.</p> - -<p>The problem was this schoolyard. It was a block wide, with entrances -on two streets. The street on the north was Challenger territory, and -the street on the south was Scarlet Raider territory, and both sides -claimed the schoolyard. There had been a few skirmishes, a few guys -from both gangs had been jumped and knocked around a little, but that -had been all. Finally, the War Lords from the two gangs had met, and -determined that the matter could only be settled in a war.</p> - -<p>The time was chosen: Hallowe'en. The place was chosen: the schoolyard. -The weapons were chosen: pocket knives and tire chains okay, but no -pistols or zip-guns. The time was fixed: eleven P.M. And the winner -would have undisputed territorial rights to the schoolyard, both -entrances.</p> - -<p>The night of the rumble, the gangs assembled in their separate -clubrooms for last-minute instructions. Debs were sent out to play -chicken at the intersections nearest the schoolyard, both to warn of -the approach of cops and to keep out any non-combatant kids who might -come wandering through.</p> - -<p>Judy Canzanetti was a Deb with the Scarlet Raiders. She was fifteen -years old, short and black-haired and pretty in a movie-magazine, -gum-chewing sort of way. She was proud of being in the Auxiliary of the -Scarlet Raiders, and proud also of the job that had been assigned to -her. She was to stand chicken on the southwest corner of the street.</p> - -<p>Judy took up her position at five minutes to eleven. The streets were -dark and quiet. Few people cared to walk this neighborhood after dark, -particularly on Hallowe'en. Judy leaned her back against the telephone -pole on the corner, stuck her hands in the pockets of her Scarlet -Raider jacket and waited.</p> - -<p>At eleven o'clock, she heard indistinct noises begin behind her. The -rumble had started.</p> - -<p>At five after eleven, a bunch of little kids came wandering down the -street. They were all about ten or eleven years old, and most of them -carried trick-or-treat shopping bags. Some of them had Hallowe'en masks -on.</p> - -<p>They started to make the turn toward the schoolyard. Judy said, "Hey, -you kids. Take off."</p> - -<p>One of them, wearing a red mask, turned to look at her. "Who, us?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, you! Stay out of that street. Go on down that way."</p> - -<p>"The subway's this way," objected the kid in the red mask.</p> - -<p>"Who cares? You go around the other way."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Listen, lady," said the kid in the red mask, aggrieved, "we got a long -way to go to get home."</p> - -<p>"Yeah," said another kid, in a black mask, "and we're late as it is."</p> - -<p>"I couldn't care less," Judy told them callously. "You can't go down -that street."</p> - -<p>"Why not?" demanded yet another kid. This one was in the most complete -and elaborate costume of them all, black leotards and a yellow shirt -and a flowing: black cape. He wore a black and gold mask and had a -black knit cap jammed down tight onto his head. "Why can't we go down -there?" this apparition demanded.</p> - -<p>"Because I said so," Judy told him. "Now, you kids get away from here. -Take off."</p> - -<p>"Hey!" cried the kid in the black-and-yellow costume. "Hey, they're -fighting down there!"</p> - -<p>"It's a rumble," said Judy proudly. "You twerps don't want to be -involved."</p> - -<p>"Hey!" cried the kid in the black-and-yellow costume again. And he went -running around Judy and dashing off down the street.</p> - -<p>"Hey, Eddie!" shouted one of the other kids. "Eddie, come back!"</p> - -<p>Judy wasn't sure what to do next. If she abandoned her post to chase -the one kid who'd gotten through, then maybe all the rest of them would -come running along after her. She didn't know what to do.</p> - -<p>A sudden siren and a distant flashing red light solved her problems. -"Cheez," said one of the kids. "The cops!"</p> - -<p>"Fuzz!" screamed Judy. She turned and raced down the block toward the -schoolyard, shouting, "Fuzz! Fuzz! Clear out, it's the fuzz!"</p> - -<p>But then she stopped, wide-eyed, when she saw what was going on in the -schoolyard.</p> - -<p>The guys from both gangs were dancing. They were jumping around, waving -their arms, throwing their weapons away. Then they all started pulling -off their gang jackets and throwing them away, whooping and hollering. -They were making such a racket themselves that they never heard Judy's -warning. They didn't even hear the police sirens. And all at once both -schoolyard entrances were full of cops, a cop had tight hold of Judy -and the rumble was over.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" width="328" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Judy was so baffled and terrified that everything was just one great -big blur. But in the middle of it all, she did see the little kid in -the yellow-and-black costume go scooting away down the street.</p> - -<p>And she had the craziest idea that it was all his fault.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Captain Hanks was still in his realistic cycle this morning, and he was -impatient as well. "All right, Stevenson," he said. "Make it fast, I've -got a lot to do this morning. And I hope it isn't this comic-book thing -of yours again."</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid it is, Captain," said Stevenson. "Did you see the morning -paper?"</p> - -<p>"So what?"</p> - -<p>"Did you see that thing about the gang fight up in Manhattan?"</p> - -<p>Captain Hanks sighed. "Stevenson," he said wearily, "are you going to -try to connect every single time the word 'scorpion' comes up? What's -the problem with this one? These kid gangs have names, so what?"</p> - -<p>"Neither one of them was called 'The Scorpions,'" Stevenson told -him. "One of them was the Scarlet Raiders and the other gang was the -Challengers."</p> - -<p>"So they changed their name," said Hanks.</p> - -<p>"Both gangs? Simultaneously? To the same name?"</p> - -<p>"Why not? Maybe that's what they were fighting over."</p> - -<p>"It was a territorial war," Stevenson reminded him. "They've admitted -that much. It says so in the paper. And it also says they all deny ever -seeing that word on their jackets until after the fight."</p> - -<p>"A bunch of juvenile delinquents," said Hanks in disgust. "You take -their word?"</p> - -<p>"Captain, did you read the article in the paper?"</p> - -<p>"I glanced through it."</p> - -<p>"All right. Here's what they say happened: They say they started -fighting at eleven o'clock. And they just got going when all at once -all the metal they were carrying—knives and tire chains and coins and -belt buckles and everything else—got freezing cold, too cold to touch. -And then their leather jackets got freezing cold, so cold they had to -pull them off and throw them away. And when the jackets were later -collected, across the name of the gang on the back of each one had been -branded 'The Scorpion.'"</p> - -<p>"Now, let <i>me</i> tell <i>you</i> something," said Hanks severely. "They heard -the police sirens, and they threw all their weapons away. Then they -threw their jackets away, to try to make believe they hadn't been -part of the gang that had been fighting. But they were caught before -they could get out of the schoolyard. If the squad cars had showed -up a minute later, the schoolyard wouldn't have had anything in it -but weapons and jackets, and the kids would have been all over the -neighborhood, nice as you please, minding their own business and not -bothering anybody. <i>That's</i> what happened. And all this talk about -freezing cold and branding names into jackets is just some smart-alec -punk's idea of a way to razz the police. Now, you just go back to -worrying about what's happening in this precinct and forget about kid -gangs up in Manhattan and comic book things like the Scorpion, or -you're going to wind up like Wilcox, with that refrigerator business. -Now, I don't want to hear any more about this nonsense, Stevenson."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," said Stevenson.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The reporter showed up two days later. He was ushered into the squad -room, where he showed his press card to Stevenson, smiled amiably and -said, "My editor sent me out on a wild-goose chase. Would you mind -chatting with me a couple minutes?"</p> - -<p>"Not at all," said Stevenson.</p> - -<p>The reporter, whose press card gave his name as Tom Roberts, settled -himself comfortably in the chair beside Stevenson's desk. "You were the -one handled that bank job down the street back in June, weren't you?"</p> - -<p>Stevenson nodded.</p> - -<p>Roberts gave an embarrassed chuckle and said, "Okay, I've got just -one question. You answer no, and then we can talk about football or -something. I mean, this is just a silly wild-goose chase, frankly. I'm -a little embarrassed about it."</p> - -<p>"Go ahead and ask," Stevenson told him.</p> - -<p>"Okay, I will. Was there the word 'scorpion' connected with that bank -job at all? In any way at all."</p> - -<p>Stevenson looked at the reporter and smiled. He said, "As a matter of -fact, Mr. Roberts, there was."</p> - -<p>Roberts blinked. "There was?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, indeedy. There certainly was." And Stevenson told him the full -story of the bank job.</p> - -<p>"I see," said Roberts dazedly when Stevenson was finished. "I see. Or, -I don't see. I don't see it at all."</p> - -<p>"Your turn," Stevenson told him. "Now you tell me what made you ask -that."</p> - -<p>"This," said Roberts. He reached into the inside pocket of his sport -jacket and withdrew a business-size envelope, which he handed over to -Stevenson.</p> - -<p>It was another crank letter, in the same newspaper clipping form as the -first two. It read:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>Dear Mr. Editor,</p> - -<p>The bad boys were captured. They could not escape the Scorpion. I left -the mark of the Scorpion on their jackets. Criminals fear the mark of -the Scorpion. They cannot escape. This is my third letter to you. You -should warn all criminals to leave the city. They cannot escape the -Scorpion. WARN YOUR READERS.</p> - -<p class="ph2">Sincerely yours,<br /> -THE SCORPION</p> -</div> - -<p>Stevenson read the letter. "Well, well," he said.</p> - -<p>"He says that's the third letter," Roberts pointed out. "We asked -around in the office, and we found out who got the first two. They were -both back a ways. The first one was early in the summer, and the guy -who read it remembered it said something about a bank robbery. So I was -sent out this morning to check up on bank robberies in June and July. -You're the third one I've talked to this morning. The first two figured -me for some kind of nut."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"My Captain figures me the same way," Stevenson told him. "What about -the second letter? Or, wait, don't tell me, I'll tell you. It's that -guy in August, the one who ran amok over in Canarsie."</p> - -<p>"Right you are," said Roberts. "How did you know?"</p> - -<p>"I was there. He left his mark on the rifle stock."</p> - -<p>"Okay," said Roberts. "So there's something in it, after all."</p> - -<p>"There's <i>something</i> in it," said Stevenson. "The question is, what?"</p> - -<p>"Well," said Roberts, "what have we got so far? Somebody—call it -person or persons unknown, for the fun of it—is stepping in every once -in a while when there's a crime being committed. He stops it. He calls -himself the Scorpion, and he uses some pretty dizzy methods. He melts -automobile tires, makes a rifle too hot to hold, makes knives and -leather jackets ice cold—how in heck does he do things like that?"</p> - -<p>"Yeah," said Stevenson. "And just incidentally, who is he?"</p> - -<p>"Well," said Roberts, "he's a kid, that much is obvious. That whole -letter <i>sounds</i> like a kid. Talking about 'the bad boys' and stuff like -that."</p> - -<p>"What do you figure, some scientist's kid maybe?"</p> - -<p>"Maybe," said Roberts. "His old man is working on something in his -little old laboratory in the cellar, and every once in a while the kid -sneaks in and makes off with the ray gun or whatever it is." Roberts -laughed. "I feel silly even talking about it," he said.</p> - -<p>"I'd feel silly, too," Stevenson told him, "if I hadn't seen what this -kid can do."</p> - -<p>"Can we work anything out from the timing?" Roberts asked him. "He -seems to show up once every couple of months."</p> - -<p>"Let me check."</p> - -<p>Stevenson went over to the filing cabinet and looked up the dates. "The -bank job," he said, "was on Wednesday, June 29th. At eleven o'clock in -the morning. That Higgins guy was on—here it is—Friday, August 5th, -around noon. And this last one was on Hallowe'en, Monday, October 31st, -at eleven o'clock at night."</p> - -<p>"If you can see a pattern in there," Roberts told him, "you're a -better man than I am."</p> - -<p>"Well, the first two," Stevenson said, "were in the daytime, during the -summer, when school was out. That's all I can figure."</p> - -<p>"Why just those three?" Roberts asked. "If he's out to fight crime, -he's pretty inefficient about it. He's only gone to work three times in -four months."</p> - -<p>"Well, he's a kid," said Stevenson. "I suppose he has to wait until he -stumbles across something."</p> - -<p>"And then rush home for Daddy's ray gun?"</p> - -<p>Stevenson shook his head. "It beats me. The only one that makes sense -is the second one. That one was televised. He probably saw it that way. -The other two times, he just happened to be around."</p> - -<p>"I don't know," said Roberts. "Does a kid happen to be around twice in -four months when there's crimes being committed? Now, the Hallowe'en -thing, I can see that. A kid is liable to be out wandering around, -maybe go off to a strange neighborhood after he's done with his -trick-or-treat stuff. Hallowe'en is a good time for a kid to see some -other kids breaking a law. And the thing in Canarsie, like you say, he -probably saw that on television. But what about the bank job?"</p> - -<p>"That was the first," said Stevenson thoughtfully. "That was what set -him off. He was there at the time. Just by accident. And he saw they -were getting away, so he zapped them. And right away he put the drama -into it, right on the spur of the moment he decided to be the Scorpion. -Then he sent the letter to your paper. But nothing else happened, and -the paper didn't print anything about his letter or what he'd done, and -he kind of forgot about it. Until he was watching television and saw -the Higgins thing. Pow, the Scorpion rides again. And then it died down -again until a couple of nights ago he saw the rumble, and pow all over -again."</p> - -<p>"What you're saying," Roberts told him, "is that this kid wanders -around with Daddy's zap gun all the time. That doesn't seem very -likely."</p> - -<p>"Face it," said Stevenson. "Daddy's zap gun isn't the likeliest thing -I ever heard of, either. I don't know how the kid does this. For that -matter, it's only an educated guess that it's a kid we're after."</p> - -<p>"Okay," said Roberts. "So what do we do now?"</p> - -<p>"Now," said Stevenson, "I think we talk to the captain. And then I have -a feeling we'll be talking to the FBI."</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph3">IV</p> - -<p>Judy Canzanetti was a frightened girl. First, there had been that crazy -thing in the schoolyard, and then being dragged in by the police, and -then being chewed out by Mom, and now here she was being dragged in by -the police again, for absolutely nothing at all.</p> - -<p>They were all there, in the big empty room like a gymnasium in the -police station, the guys and debs from both gangs, all milling around -and confused. And the cops were taking all the kids out one at a time -and questioning them.</p> - -<p>When the cop pointed at her and said, "Okay. You next," Judy almost -broke into tears.</p> - -<p>This wasn't like anything she knew or anything she could have expected. -This wasn't like after the rumble, with the guys wisecracking the cops, -and nothing to worry about but a chewing-out from Mom. This was scary. -They were taking people out one at a time to question them. And nobody -was coming back into the room, and who knew what happened to you when -it was your turn?</p> - -<p>"Come on," said the cop. "Step along."</p> - -<p>She stepped along, numb and miserable.</p> - -<p>There were four men in the room to which she was led. They were sitting -behind a long table, with notebooks and pencils and ashtrays on the -table. In front of them was a straight-backed armless chair. The cop -sat her down in the chair, and left the room.</p> - -<p>One of the men said, "Your name is Judy Canzanetti, is that right?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir." It came out a whisper. She cleared her throat and tried -again. "Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>"You don't have to be frightened, Judy," said the man. "You aren't -going to be accused of anything. My name is Marshall, Stephen Marshall. -This gentleman on my right is Stewart Lang. We're with the FBI. That -gentleman there is Mr. Stevenson, and he's a detective from Brooklyn. -And that there is Mr. Roberts, and he's a reporter. And we all simply -want to ask you one or two questions. All right?"</p> - -<p>The man was obviously trying to calm her down, make her relax. And he -succeeded to some extent. Judy said, "Yes, sir," in a small voice and -nodded, no longer quite so frightened.</p> - -<p>None of the four men were particularly frightening in appearance. The -two FBI men were long and lean, with bleak bony faces like cowboys. The -detective was a short worried-looking man with a paunch and thinning -black hair. And the reporter was a cheerful round-faced man in a loud -sport coat and a bow tie.</p> - -<p>"Now," said Marshall, "you were present at the time of the gang fight -on Hallowe'en, is that right?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir. Well, no, sir. Not exactly. I was down at the corner."</p> - -<p>Mister Marshall smiled briefly. "On lookout?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>"I see. And do you remember seeing anyone present at all aside from the -boys in the two gangs and the police?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"No, sir. That is, not except a bunch of little kids. They came along -just before the co—the police."</p> - -<p>"A bunch of little kids?"</p> - -<p>The detective named Stevenson said urgently, "Did you recognize any of -them?"</p> - -<p>"No, sir. They weren't from around the neighborhood."</p> - -<p>Marshall said, "You'd never seen them before?"</p> - -<p>"No, sir. They were just a bunch of little kids. Grade school kids. -They were out with costumes on and everything, playing trick-or-treat."</p> - -<p>"Did they go near the schoolyard at all?"</p> - -<p>"No, sir. Except for one of them. You see, I was supposed to keep -people away, tell them to go around the other way. And these kids came -along. I told them to go around the other way, but they said they had -to get to the subway."</p> - -<p>"The subway?" echoed Stevenson.</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir. They said they were out too late anyway and it was a long -way to go to get home."</p> - -<p>The man named Marshall said, "You said one of them <i>did</i> go down by the -schoolyard?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir. I told them all to go around the other way and the one kid -said, 'Hey, they're fighting,' or something like that, and he ran down -the street. I tried to stop him. But he got away from me."</p> - -<p>"And then what happened?" asked Stevenson.</p> - -<p>"Then I saw the fuzz—the police coming. I ran down to warn everybody. -And all the guys were jumping around throwing their coats away."</p> - -<p>"And the little boy?"</p> - -<p>"I didn't see him at all any more. Except after the police came. I saw -him go running around the corner."</p> - -<p>"What did this boy look like?" Stevenson asked.</p> - -<p>"Gee, I don't know, sir."</p> - -<p>"You don't know?"</p> - -<p>"No, sir. He was in his Hallowe'en costume."</p> - -<p>The four men looked at one another. "A costume," said the one named -Roberts, the reporter. "My God, a <i>costume</i>."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," said Judy. "It was all black and gold. Tight black pants -and a yellow shirt and a black cape and a funny kind of mask that -covered his face, black and gold. And a kind of cap like maybe a skull -cap on his head, black, only it was knit. Like the sailors wear in the -Merchant Marine."</p> - -<p>"Black and gold," said Roberts. He seemed awed by something.</p> - -<p>"So you can't identify this boy at all," said Stevenson forlornly.</p> - -<p>"One of the other kids called him Eddie," she said, suddenly -remembering.</p> - -<p>They spent fifteen minutes more with her, going over the same ground -again and again, but she just didn't have any more to tell them. And -finally they let her go.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Mr. Featherhall and Miss English were distant but courteous. It was, -after all, banking hours. On the other hand, these four men were police -and FBI, on official business.</p> - -<p>"It <i>has</i> been a rather long time," Featherhall objected gently. "Well -over four months."</p> - -<p>"It seemed to me," said Miss English, "that the police took the names -of all the people who'd been here at the time of the robbery."</p> - -<p>"There may have been other people present," suggested Marshall, "who -left before the confusion was over. There are any number of people in -this world who like to avoid being involved in things like this."</p> - -<p>"I can certainly appreciate their position," said Miss English, -reminiscently touching her fingertips to her head.</p> - -<p>"Miss English was very brave," Featherhall told the policemen. "She -created the diversion that spoiled their plans."</p> - -<p>"Yes, we know," said Marshall. "We've heard about what you did, Miss -English."</p> - -<p>"To tell you the truth," she said primly, "I was most concerned about -the boy. To be exposed to something like that at his tender—"</p> - -<p>"Boy?" interrupted Stevenson rudely. "Did you say <i>boy</i>?"</p> - -<p>"Why, yes," said Miss English. "There was a little boy in here at the -time, with his mother. Didn't you know?"</p> - -<p>"No, we didn't," said Marshall. "Could you describe this boy?"</p> - -<p>"Well, he was—well, not more than ten years old, if that. And -he—well, it has been a long time, as Mr. Featherhall said. He was just -a child, a normal average child."</p> - -<p>"Not exactly average," said Stevenson cryptically.</p> - -<p>"You said he was in here with his mother," said Marshall.</p> - -<p>"That's right. I've seen her in here a number of times."</p> - -<p>"Yes, of course," said Marshall.</p> - -<p>"Has she been here since the robbery?" asked Stevenson.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I believe she has."</p> - -<p>"So that you would recognize her if you saw her again."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I would. I'm sure I would. She almost always comes in with the -boy. Or, no, she doesn't, not any more. Not since school started. But -she did all summer."</p> - -<p>"She comes in often, then."</p> - -<p>"I believe so," said Miss English. "Fairly often."</p> - -<p>Marshall produced a small card, which he handed to Miss English. "The -next time she comes in," he said, "we'd appreciate it if you'd call us -at that number. Ask for me, Mr. Marshall."</p> - -<p>"I will," said Miss English. "I surely will."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The four of them sat talking in Marshall's office.</p> - -<p>Tom Roberts had his shoes off, his feet on the windowsill, his spine -curved into the chair and a cigarette dangling from the corner of his -mouth. He had one eye closed and was sighting between his socked feet -at the building across the way.</p> - -<p>"The thing that bothers me," he said, the cigarette waggling in his -mouth, "is just that I'm sure as I can be that I'll never get to -write a word of this story. You gimlet-eyed types will clamp down on -this kid, and that'll be the end of it. Security, by George. National -defense. I wonder whatever happened to freedom of the press."</p> - -<p>"The press overworked it," Marshall told him.</p> - -<p>"The thing is," said Lang, "whatever weapon or machine this boy is -using, it's something that the government knows absolutely nothing -about. We've sent up a report on the effects of this thing, whatever -it is, and there's been the damnedest complete survey of current -government research projects you can imagine. There is nothing at all -like it even on the drawing boards."</p> - -<p>"Whatever the boy is using," said Marshall, "and wherever he got it -from, it isn't a part of the government's arsenal of weapons."</p> - -<p>"Which it <i>has</i> to be," Lang added. "Can you imagine a weapon that -selectively increases or decreases the temperature of any specific -object or any specific <i>part</i> of an object? From a <i>distance</i>? I -wouldn't like to be sitting on a stockpile of hydrogen warheads with -somebody aiming that weapon at me. He simply presses the 'hot' button, -and blooey!"</p> - -<p>"You see a jet bomber coming," said Marshall. "You point the weapon, -press the 'cold' button, and flame-out. That pilot bought the farm."</p> - -<p>"What <i>I'd</i> like to know," said Lang, "is where he got his hands on -this thing in the first place. Not only is there no machine or weapon -we know of which can do this sort of thing, but our tame experts assure -us that no such machine or weapon is possible."</p> - -<p>"Great," said Stevenson. "We're looking for a ten-year-old kid armed -with a weapon that no adult in the country could even imagine as -possible."</p> - -<p>The phone rang at that point, and for a second no one moved. They all -sat and looked at the jangling phone. Then Marshall and Lang moved -simultaneously, but it was Marshall who answered. "Marshall here."</p> - -<p>The others watched him, heard him say, "Yes, Miss English. Right." And -reach forward on the desk for pad and pencil. "Right, got it. You're -sure that's the one? Right. Thank you very much."</p> - -<p>Marshall cradled the phone, and looked at the others. "The woman came -in. Her name is Mrs. Albert J. Clayhorn, and she lives on Newkirk -Avenue. Miss English said the number would be near East 17th."</p> - -<p>"Five blocks from the bank," said Stevenson.</p> - -<p>"And about eighty blocks from Higgins' house," said Roberts. "That's -why it took him so long to go to work that time. He saw what was -happening on television, grabbed his weapon and his trusty bike and -went riding out to Canarsie. The Scorpion rides again!"</p> - -<p>Marshall looked at his watch. "It's only a little after one," he said. -"We can talk to the mother before the boy comes home."</p> - -<p>"Right," said Stevenson, getting to his feet.</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph3">V</p> - -<p>Mrs. Elizabeth Clayhorn was a short, roundish, pleasant-faced woman -in a flower-pattern apron. She looked at the identification Marshall -showed her, and smiled uncertainly. "FBI? I don't under—Well, come -in."</p> - -<p>"Thank you."</p> - -<p>The living room was neat and airy. The four men settled themselves.</p> - -<p>Marshall, uncomfortably, was the spokesman. "I'm going to have to -explain this, Mrs. Clayhorn," he said, "and frankly, it isn't going -to be easy. You see—" He cleared his throat and tried again. "Well, -here's the situation. Someone in New York has a rather strange machine -of some sort—well, it's sort of a heat machine, I suppose you could -say—and we've traced it, through its use, to, uh—well, to your son."</p> - -<p>"To Eddie?" Mrs. Clayhorn was looking very blank. "Eddie?"</p> - -<p>"I take it," said Marshall, instead of answering, "that your son hasn't -told you about this machine."</p> - -<p>"Well, no. Well, of course not. I mean, he's just a little boy. I -mean, how could he have any sort of machine? What is it, a blowtorch, -something like that?"</p> - -<p>"Not exactly," said Marshall. "Could you tell me, Mrs. Clayhorn, what -your husband does for a living?"</p> - -<p>"Well, he runs a grocery store. The Bohack's up on Flatbush Avenue."</p> - -<p>"I see."</p> - -<p>Lang took over the questioning. "Are there any other persons living -here, Mrs. Clayhorn? Any boarders?"</p> - -<p>"No, there's only the three of us."</p> - -<p>"Well, is Eddie interested in anything of a, well, a scientific nature? -In school, perhaps?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, Lord, no. He hasn't had any real science subjects yet. He's only -in the fifth grade. His best subject is history, but that's because he -likes to read, and history is all reading. He got that from me, I read -all the time."</p> - -<p>"He doesn't have one of these junior chemistry sets, then, or anything -like that?"</p> - -<p>"No, not at all. He just isn't interested. We even got him an Erector -set last Christmas, and he played with it for a day or two and then -gave it up completely and went back to reading."</p> - -<p>"The thing is," said Stevenson, with ill-concealed desperation, "he -does have this machine."</p> - -<p>"Are you sure it's Eddie?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, mam, we're sure."</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Clayhorn," said Marshall, "the boy does have this machine. The -government is very interested in it, and—"</p> - -<p>"Well, I don't see how a ten-year-old boy—but if you say so, then I -suppose it's so. Of course, he'll be home from school at three-thirty. -You could ask <i>him</i>, if you want."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"We'd rather not, just yet," said Marshall. "We think it might not be -the best idea. As you say, Eddie is very interested in reading. He's -been using this machine, and, uh, well, he's been making a big secret -out of it, like the characters in comic books. We wouldn't want to -spoil that secret for him, at least not until we actually have the -machine in our own possession."</p> - -<p>"I see," said Mrs. Clayhorn doubtfully.</p> - -<p>"Mam," said Stevenson, "we don't have any sort of search warrant. But -we would like to take a look in Eddie's room, with your permission."</p> - -<p>"Well, if you really think it's important—"</p> - -<p>"It is," said Marshall.</p> - -<p>"Then, I suppose it's all right. It's the door on the right, at the end -of the hall."</p> - -<p>The three men, feeling large and cumbersome, searched the boy's room. -It was a boy's room, nothing less and nothing more. The closet floor -and shelves were stacked with comic books, there were baseball trading -cards in the top bureau drawer, there were pennants on the walls. There -was no heat machine, nor any hint of a heat machine.</p> - -<p>"I just don't know," said Marshall at last.</p> - -<p>"Unless he carries it all the time," said Lang.</p> - -<p>"Sure," said Stevenson. "That's why he had it with him in the bank that -day."</p> - -<p>"Maybe," said Marshall. "I just don't know. You know, I don't really -believe there <i>is</i> a machine."</p> - -<p>"Of course there is," said Stevenson. "We've seen what it can do."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I'm not denying the boy caused those things. But I just have the -completely insane conviction that there isn't any machine." Marshall -shrugged. "Ah, well, never mind. Let's go back and soothe the mother."</p> - -<p>They soothed her, which took some doing, not because she was at all -worried, but because she was so curious she could hardly sit still. But -Marshall, by looking very stern and official, and by speaking in round -long-syllabled sentences, finally convinced her that the welfare of the -nation was absolutely dependent upon her not mentioning anything at all -about this visit to Eddie, under any circumstances.</p> - -<p>"We'll be back to talk to the boy in a day or two," Marshall told her. -"In the meantime, we'd prefer him not to be forewarned."</p> - -<p>"If you say so," she said, frowning.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The school principal, a gray battleship named Miss Evita Dexter, was -irate. The idea that pornographic materials were being sold in <i>her</i> -schoolyard was absurd. It was ridiculous. It was unheard-of.</p> - -<p>Stevenson assured her that, adjectives notwithstanding, it was -happening. And they were going to have a shakedown of the student body -whether Miss Dexter liked it or not. Detective-Sergeant Stevenson and -his associates, Marshall and Lang, were going to go through the student -body with a fine tooth comb.</p> - -<p>Neither Marshall nor Lang had mentioned the fact that they were from -the FBI.</p> - -<p>The search began at nine forty-five in the morning, and ended at ten -past twelve.</p> - -<p>On the persons of three eighth-grade boys, they found pornographic -photos.</p> - -<p>On the person of Eddie Clayhorn, they found absolutely nothing....</p> - -<p>Abner Streitman Long was a government expert. He was more or less a -government expert in the ready reserve, since he had never once been -called upon to use his expertise for the government.</p> - -<p>Not until now.</p> - -<p>Abner Streitman Long was Resident Professor of Psychology at Mandar -University. He was also one of the world's foremost and best-known -experimenters in the area of parapsychology, also called Extra-Sensory -Perception, also called psionics.</p> - -<p>The government, as a matter of principle, didn't believe in psionics. -But the government, also as a matter of principle, kept a psionics -expert handy, just in case.</p> - -<p>The "just in case" had maybe happened.</p> - -<p>Professor Long sat in Marshall's office and listened stolidly to the -problem. The expert was a tall, barrel-chested man with a fantastic -shock of white hair exploding out in all directions from his head. -His nose was bulbous, his jaw out-thrust, his eyes deepset, his ears -hairy, his hands huge and his feet huger. He looked like a dressed-up -lumberjack, of the old school.</p> - -<p>He listened, and they talked, and every once in a while he nodded, and -said, "Huh." His voice was, predictably, basso profundo.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Then they were finished, and Professor Long summed it all up. "He -changes the temperature of objects. Yes?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Marshall.</p> - -<p>"You looked for a machine. Yes?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, and we didn't find it."</p> - -<p>"And your thermodynamics people said no such machine could exist -anyway, yes?"</p> - -<p>"That's right."</p> - -<p>"Then why did you look for it?"</p> - -<p>"Because," said Marshall desperately, "we'd seen it in action. That is, -we'd seen the result of its use."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said the professor. He sucked on his lower lip and abstractedly -watched his thumbs twiddle. "Pyrotic," he announced at last.</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon?" asked Marshall.</p> - -<p>"Pyrotic," repeated the professor. "Yes? Yes. Pyrotic. Do you know what -that is?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Marshall.</p> - -<p>"Good," said the professor. "Neither do I. But I have a theory. There -are more theories than there are phenomena. That always happens. -But listen to this theory. The mind reaches into the object on the -molecular level, and adjusts the molecules, <i>so</i>. The temperature -changes. Do you see?"</p> - -<p>"Not exactly," said Marshall doubtfully.</p> - -<p>"Neither do I. Never mind. I know lots of theories, none of them make -any sense. But they all try to explain."</p> - -<p>"If you say so," said Marshall.</p> - -<p>"Yes. I say so. <i>Now.</i> As a psychologist, I will tell you something -else. This boy has made this a secret, yes? The Scorpion, he calls -himself, and, like his heroes of the comic books, he uses his power for -good. Shazam, yes? Captain Marvel."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Stevenson, nodding emphatically.</p> - -<p>"Now, what happens if you go to this boy and tell him, 'We know you are -the Scorpion? Your secret is out.' What happens then?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know," said Marshall.</p> - -<p>"Think," suggested Professor Long. "Batman, let us say, or Superman. -Quite apart from fighting crime, what is the major task confronting -these heroes? That of maintaining the secrecy of their identity, yes?"</p> - -<p>The four men nodded.</p> - -<p>"Now," said Professor Long, "to the mind of a ten-year-old boy, what -is the implication? The implication is this: If the secret of the -identity is lost the power of the hero is also lost. This is the clear -implication. Yes?"</p> - -<p>"You mean this boy wouldn't be able to do it any more if we went and -talked to him?" asked Lang.</p> - -<p>"I don't say that," cautioned the professor. "I do say this: He will -<i>believe</i> that he has lost the power. And this belief may be sufficient -to destroy the power. Yes?"</p> - -<p>"In other words," said Marshall, "you're saying that we can't ask this -boy how he manages his stunt, because if we do then he probably won't -be able to manage it any more."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"A distinct possibility," said the professor. "But only a temporary -possibility. The drama of the Scorpion will not, I imagine, survive -puberty."</p> - -<p>"But will the <i>ability</i> survive puberty?"</p> - -<p>"No one can know. No one can even guess."</p> - -<p>"Now, here's the thing," said Marshall. "Not downgrading your theories -at all, Professor, they are nevertheless still only theories. Frankly, -given my choice between an impossible machine and a boy with the power -to <i>think</i> things hot and cold, I'll give the impossible machine the -edge. At this point, accepting the idea of the machine, our next move -is simple. We go ask the boy to give it to us. From what you say, we -can't even do that."</p> - -<p>"My best advice," said the professor, "would be to keep the boy under -careful surveillance for the next three or four years. Gradually get to -know him, carefully work out a long-range program involving his reading -habits, the attitudes of his teachers and parents, the sort of external -stimuli to which he is—"</p> - -<p>"Fellas," said Roberts suddenly. "Oh, fellas."</p> - -<p>They turned to look at him. He was in his favorite pose, shoes off, -feet up on the windowsill. He was now pointing at the window. "Do you -fellas see what I see?" he asked them.</p> - -<p>They saw. The window was frosting. It was a rainy, humid mid-November -day, and moisture was condensing on the window pane. It was condensing, -and then it was freezing.</p> - -<p>It didn't take long. No more than a minute passed from the time Roberts -noticed the thing beginning until the time it was complete. And then -they watched various specific sections of the window defrost again.</p> - -<p>It was a very strange looking window. It was covered with frost, but -there were lines of bare window, as though the frost had been scraped -away. The lines formed letters, and the letters formed words, and the -words were:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>POO. MOM TOLD ME.</p></div> - -<p>"My God," said Marshall.</p> - -<p>"Well, well, well, well, well," said Stevenson.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Professor Long. He nodded, and turned away from the window -to look at the door. "You may come in now, Eddie," he called.</p> - -<p>The door opened, and Eddie Clayhorn stood there, in civilian clothes. -He beamed at the window. "That was tricky," he said.</p> - -<p>"So," said Professor Long. "I was mistaken, eh? Exposure does not spoil -things, is that it?"</p> - -<p>"Sometimes," said Eddie Clayhorn, "the hero has one or two trusted -friends on the police force who know who he is and give him tips about -criminals. But they never tell anybody."</p> - -<p>"Of course!" said Professor Long. "And we are <i>your</i> trusted friends. -Yes?"</p> - -<p>"Sure. But you can't tell my parents or anybody."</p> - -<p>Roberts leaned forward and gingerly touched the frosted window. It was -cold, very cold. He turned and looked with awed eyes at Eddie Clayhorn.</p> - -<p>Slowly, he smiled. "Scorp old boy," he said, "you can just call me -Tonto. Kimosabe!"</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Call Him Nemesis, by Donald E. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - - -</pre> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/old/61090-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/61090-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index e6ff0fe..0000000 --- a/old/61090-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/61090-h/images/illus.jpg b/old/61090-h/images/illus.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index d5307b1..0000000 --- a/old/61090-h/images/illus.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/61090.txt b/old/61090.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e1b72dd..0000000 --- a/old/61090.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1825 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Call Him Nemesis, by Donald E. Westlake - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: Call Him Nemesis - -Author: Donald E. Westlake - -Release Date: January 3, 2020 [EBook #61090] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CALL HIM NEMESIS *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - CALL HIM NEMESIS - - By DONALD E. WESTLAKE - - Criminals, beware; the Scorpion is on - your trail! Hoodlums fear his fury--and, - for that matter, so do the cops! - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1961. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -The man with the handkerchief mask said, "All right, everybody, keep -tight. This is a holdup." - -There were twelve people in the bank. There was Mr. Featherhall at -his desk, refusing to okay a personal check from a perfect stranger. -There was the perfect stranger, an itinerant garage mechanic named -Rodney (Rod) Strom, like the check said. There were Miss English and -Miss Philicoff, the girls in the gilded teller cages. There was Mister -Anderson, the guard, dozing by the door in his brown uniform. There was -Mrs. Elizabeth Clayhorn, depositing her husband's pay check in their -joint checking account, and with her was her ten-year-old son Edward -(Eddie) Clayhorn, Junior. There was Charlie Casale, getting ten dollars -dimes, six dollars nickels and four dollars pennies for his father -in the grocery store down the street. There was Mrs. Dolly Daniels, -withdrawing money from her savings account again. And there were three -bank robbers. - -The three bank robbers looked like triplets. From the ground up, they -all wore scuffy black shoes, baggy-kneed and unpressed khaki trousers, -brown cracked-leather jackets over flannel shirts, white handkerchiefs -over the lower half of their faces and gray-and-white check caps pulled -low over their eyes. The eyes themselves looked dangerous. - -The man who had spoken withdrew a small but mean-looking thirty-two -calibre pistol from his jacket pocket. He waved it menacingly. One of -the others took the pistol away from Mister Anderson, the guard, and -said to him in a low voice, "Think about retirement, my friend." The -third one, who carried a black satchel like a doctor's bag, walked -quickly around behind the teller's counter and started filling it with -money. - -It was just like the movies. - -The man who had first spoken herded the tellers, Mr. Featherhall and -the customers all over against the back wall, while the second man -stayed next to Mr. Anderson and the door. The third man stuffed money -into the black satchel. - -The man by the door said, "Hurry up." - -The man with the satchel said, "One more drawer." - -The man with the gun turned to say to the man at the door, "Keep your -shirt on." - -That was all Miss English needed. She kicked off her shoes and ran -pelting in her stocking feet for the door. - - * * * * * - -The man by the door spread his arms out and shouted, "Hey!" The man -with the gun swung violently back, cursing, and fired the gun. But he'd -been moving too fast, and so had Miss English, and all he hit was the -brass plate on Mr. Featherhall's desk. - -The man by the door caught Miss English in a bear hug. She promptly did -her best to scratch his eyes out. Meanwhile, Mr. Anderson went scooting -out the front door and running down the street toward the police -station in the next block, shouting, "Help! Help! Robbery!" - -The man with the gun cursed some more. The man with the satchel came -running around from behind the counter, and the man by the door tried -to keep Miss English from scratching his eyes out. Then the man with -the gun hit Miss English on the head. She fell unconscious to the -floor, and all three of them ran out of the bank to the car out front, -in which sat a very nervous-looking fourth man, gunning the engine. - -Everyone except Miss English ran out after the bandits, to watch. - -Things got very fast and very confused then. Two police cars came -driving down the block and a half from the precinct house to the bank, -and the car with the four robbers in it lurched away from the curb and -drove straight down the street toward the police station. The police -cars and the getaway car passed one another, with everybody shooting -like the ships in pirate movies. - -There was so much confusion that it looked as though the bank robbers -were going to get away after all. The police cars were aiming the wrong -way and, as they'd come down with sirens wailing, there was a clear -path behind them. - -Then, after the getaway car had gone more than two blocks, it suddenly -started jouncing around. It smacked into a parked car and stopped. And -all the police went running down there to clap handcuffs on the robbers -when they crawled dazedly out of their car. - -"Hey," said Eddie Clayhorn, ten years old. "Hey, that was something, -huh, Mom?" - -"Come along home," said his mother, grabbing his hand. "We don't want -to be involved." - - * * * * * - -"It was the nuttiest thing," said Detective-Sergeant Stevenson. "An -operation planned that well, you'd think they'd pay attention to their -getaway car, you know what I mean?" - -Detective-Sergeant Pauling shrugged. "They always slip up," he said. -"Sooner or later, on some minor detail, they always slip up." - -"Yes, but their _tires_." - -"Well," said Pauling, "it was a stolen car. I suppose they just grabbed -whatever was handiest." - -"What I can't figure out," said Stevenson, "is exactly what made those -tires do that. I mean, it was a hot day and all, but it wasn't _that_ -hot. And they weren't going that fast. I don't think you could go fast -enough to melt your tires down." - -Pauling shrugged again. "We got them. That's the important thing." - -"Still and all, it's nutty. They're free and clear, barrelling out -Rockaway toward the Belt, and all at once their tires melt, the tubes -blow out and there they are." Stevenson shook his head. "I can't figure -it." - -"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth," suggested Pauling. "They picked -the wrong car to steal." - -"And _that_ doesn't make sense, either," said Stevenson. "Why steal a -car that could be identified as easily as that one?" - -"Why? What was it, a foreign make?" - -"No, it was a Chevvy, two-tone, three years old, looked just like half -the cars on the streets. Except that in the trunk lid the owner had -burned in 'The Scorpion' in big black letters you could see half a -block away." - -"Maybe they didn't notice it when they stole the car," said Pauling. - -"For a well-planned operation like this one," said Stevenson, "they -made a couple of really idiotic boners. It doesn't make any sense." - -"What do they have to say about it?" Pauling demanded. - -"Nothing, what do you expect? They'll make no statement at all." - -The squad-room door opened, and a uniformed patrolman stuck his head -in. "The owner of that Chevvy's here," he said. - -"Right," said Stevenson. He followed the patrolman down the hall to the -front desk. - -The owner of the Chevvy was an angry-looking man of middle age, tall -and paunchy. "John Hastings," he said. "They say you have my car here." - -"I believe so, yes," said Stevenson. "I'm afraid it's in pretty bad -shape." - -"So I was told over the phone," said Hastings grimly. "I've contacted -my insurance company." - -"Good. The car's in the police garage, around the corner. If you'd come -with me?" - - * * * * * - -On the way around, Stevenson said, "I believe you reported the car -stolen almost immediately after it happened." - -"That's right," said Hastings. "I stepped into a bar on my route. I'm -a wine and liquor salesman. When I came out five minutes later, my car -was gone." - -"You left the keys in it?" - -"Well, why not?" demanded Hastings belligerently. "If I'm making just -a quick stop--I never spend more than five minutes with any one -customer--I always leave the keys in the car. Why not?" - -"The car was stolen," Stevenson reminded him. - -Hastings grumbled and glared. "It's always been perfectly safe up till -now." - -"Yes, sir. In here." - -Hastings took one look at his car and hit the ceiling. "It's ruined!" -he cried. "What did you do to the tires?" - -"Not a thing, sir. That happened to them in the holdup." - -Hastings leaned down over one of the front tires. "Look at that! -There's melted rubber all over the rims. Those rims are ruined! What -did you use, incendiary bullets?" - -Stevenson shook his head. "No, sir. When that happened they were two -blocks away from the nearest policeman." - -"Hmph." Hastings moved on around the car, stopping short to exclaim, -"What in the name of God is that? You didn't tell me a bunch of _kids_ -had stolen the car." - -"It wasn't a bunch of kids," Stevenson told him. "It was four -professional criminals, I thought you knew that. They were using it in -a bank holdup." - -"Then why did they do _that_?" - -Stevenson followed Hastings' pointing finger, and saw again the -crudely-lettered words, "The Scorpion" burned black into the paint of -the trunk lid. "I really don't know," he said. "It wasn't there before -the car was stolen?" - -"Of course not!" - -Stevenson frowned. "Now, why in the world did they do that?" - -"I suggest," said Hastings with heavy sarcasm, "you ask them that." - -Stevenson shook his head. "It wouldn't do any good. They aren't talking -about anything. I don't suppose they'll ever tell us." He looked at the -trunk lid again. "It's the nuttiest thing," he said thoughtfully.... - -That was on Wednesday. - -The Friday afternoon mail delivery to the _Daily News_ brought a crank -letter. It was in the crank letter's most obvious form; that is, -the address had been clipped, a letter or a word at a time, from a -newspaper and glued to the envelope. There was no return address. - -The letter itself was in the same format. It was brief and to the point: - - Dear Mr. Editor: - - The Scorpion has struck. The bank robbers were captured. The - Scorpion fights crime. Crooks and robbers are not safe from - the avenging Scorpion. WARN YOUR READERS! - - Sincerely yours, - THE SCORPION - -The warning was duly noted, and the letter filed in the wastebasket. It -didn't rate a line in the paper. - - - II - -The bank robbery occurred in late June. Early in August, a Brooklyn man -went berserk. - -It happened in Canarsie, a section in southeast Brooklyn near Jamaica -Bay. This particular area of Canarsie was a residential neighborhood, -composed of one and two family houses. The man who went berserk was a -Motor Vehicle Bureau clerk named Jerome Higgins. - -Two days before, he had flunked a Civil Service examination for the -third time. He reported himself sick and spent the two days at home, -brooding, a bottle of blended whiskey at all times in his hand. - -As the police reconstructed it later, Mrs. Higgins had attempted to -awaken him on the third morning at seven-thirty, suggesting that he -really ought to stop being so foolish, and go back to work. He then -allegedly poked her in the eye, and locked her out of the bedroom. - -Mrs. Higgins then apparently called her sister-in-law, a Mrs. Thelma -Stodbetter, who was Mr. Higgins' sister. Mrs. Stodbetter arrived at the -house at nine o'clock, and spent some time tapping at the still-locked -bedroom door, apparently requesting Mr. Higgins to unlock the door and -"stop acting like a child." Neighbors reported to the police that they -heard Mr. Higgins shout a number of times, "Go away! Can't you let a -man sleep?" - -At about ten-fifteen, neighbors heard shots from the Higgins residence, -a two-story one-family pink stucco affair in the middle of a block of -similar homes. Mr. Higgins, it was learned later, had suddenly erupted -from his bedroom, brandishing a .30-.30 hunting rifle and, being -annoyed at the shrieks of his wife and sister, had fired seven shells -at them, killing his wife on the spot and wounding his sister in the -hand and shoulder. - -Mrs. Stodbetter, wounded and scared out of her wits, raced screaming -out the front door of the house, crying for the police and shouting, -"Murder! Murder!" At this point, neighbors called the police. One -neighbor additionally phoned three newspapers and two television -stations, thereby earning forty dollars in "news-tips" rewards. - - * * * * * - -By chance, a mobile television unit was at that moment on the Belt -Parkway, returning from having seen off a prime minister at Idlewild -Airport. This unit was at once diverted to Canarsie, where it took up a -position across the street from the scene of carnage and went to work -with a Zoomar lens. - -In the meantime, Mister Higgins had barricaded himself in his house, -firing at anything that moved. - -The two cameramen in the mobile unit worked their hearts out. One -concentrated on the movements of the police and firemen and neighbors -and ambulance attendants, while the other used the Zoomar lens to -search for Mr. Higgins. He found him occasionally, offering the at-home -audience brief glimpses of a stocky balding man in brown trousers and -undershirt, stalking from window to window on the second floor of the -house. - -The show lasted for nearly an hour. There were policemen everywhere, -and firemen everywhere, and neighbors milling around down at the -corner, where the police had roped the block off, and occasionally Mr. -Higgins would stick his rifle out a window and shoot at somebody. The -police used loudspeakers to tell Higgins he might as well give up, they -had the place surrounded and could eventually starve him out anyway. -Higgins used his own good lungs to shout obscenities back and challenge -anyone present to hand-to-hand combat. - -The police fired tear gas shells at the house, but it was a windy day -and all the windows in the Higgins house were either open or broken. -Higgins was able to throw all the shells back out of the house again. - -The show lasted for nearly an hour. Then it ended, suddenly and -dramatically. - -Higgins had showed himself to the Zoomar lens again, for the purpose of -shooting either the camera or its operator. All at once he yelped and -threw the rifle away. The rifle bounced onto the porch roof, slithered -down to the edge, hung for a second against the drain, and finally fell -barrel first onto the lawn. - -Meanwhile, Higgins was running through the house, shouting like a -wounded bull. He thundered down the stairs and out, hollering, to fall -into the arms of the waiting police. - -They had trouble holding him. At first they thought he was actually -trying to get away, but then one of them heard what it was he was -shouting: "My hands! My hands!" - -They looked at his hands. The palms and the palm-side of the fingers -were red and blistering, from what looked like severe burns. There was -another burn on his right cheek and another one on his right shoulder. - -Higgins, thoroughly chastened and bewildered, was led away for burn -ointment and jail. The television crew went on back to Manhattan. The -neighbors went home and telephoned their friends. - -On-duty policemen had been called in from practically all of the -precincts in Brooklyn. Among them was Detective-Sergeant William -Stevenson. Stevenson frowned thoughtfully at Higgins as that unhappy -individual was led away, and then strolled over to look at the rifle. -He touched the stock, and it was somewhat warm but that was all. - -He picked it up and turned it around. There, on the other side of the -stock, burned into the wood, were the crudely-shaped letters, "The -Scorpion." - - * * * * * - -You don't get to be Precinct Captain on nothing but political -connections. Those help, of course, but you need more than that. As -Captain Hanks was fond of pointing out, you needed as well to be both -more imaginative than most--"You gotta be able to second-guess the -smart boys"--and to be a complete realist--"You gotta have both feet -on the ground." If these were somewhat contradictory qualities, it was -best not to mention the fact to Captain Hanks. - -The realist side of the captain's nature was currently at the fore. -"Just what are you trying to say, Stevenson?" he demanded. - -"I'm not sure," admitted Stevenson. "But we've got these two things. -First, there's the getaway car from that bank job. The wheels melt for -no reason at all, and somebody burns 'The Scorpion' onto the trunk. -Then, yesterday, this guy Higgins out in Canarsie. He says the rifle -all of a sudden got too hot to hold, and he's got the burn marks to -prove it. And there on the rifle stock it is again. 'The Scorpion'." - -"He says he put that on there himself," said the captain. - -Stevenson shook his head. "His _lawyer_ says he put it on there. -Higgins says he doesn't remember doing it. That's half the lawyer's -case. He's trying to build up an insanity defense." - -"He put it on there himself, Stevenson," said the captain with weary -patience. "What are you trying to prove?" - -"I don't know. All I know is it's the nuttiest thing I ever saw. And -what about the getaway car? What about those tires melting?" - -"They were defective," said Hanks promptly. - -"All four of them at once? And what about the thing written on the -trunk?" - -"How do I know?" demanded the captain. "Kids put it on before the car -was stolen, maybe. Or maybe the hoods did it themselves, who knows? -What do _they_ say?" - -"They say they didn't do it," said Stevenson. "And they say they never -saw it before the robbery and they would have noticed it if it'd been -there." - -The captain shook his head. "I don't get it," he admitted. "What are -you trying to prove?" - -"I guess," said Stevenson slowly, thinking it out as he went along, "I -guess I'm trying to prove that somebody melted those tires, and made -that rifle too hot, and left his signature behind." - -"What? You mean like in the comic books? Come on, Stevenson! What are -you trying to hand me?" - -"All I know," insisted Stevenson, "is what I see." - -"And all _I_ know," the captain told him, "is Higgins put that name on -his rifle himself. He says so." - -"And what made it so hot?" - -"Hell, man, he'd been firing that thing at people for an hour! What do -you _think_ made it hot?" - -"All of a sudden?" - -"He noticed it all of a sudden, when it started to burn him." - -"How come the same name showed up each time, then?" Stevenson asked -desperately. - -"How should I know? And why not, anyway? You know as well as I do these -things happen. A bunch of teen-agers burgle a liquor store and they -write 'The Golden Avengers' on the plate glass in lipstick. It happens -all the time. Why not 'The Scorpion'? It couldn't occur to two people?" - -"But there's no explanation--" started Stevenson. - -"What do you mean, there's no explanation? I just _gave_ you the -explanation. Look, Stevenson, I'm a busy man. You got a nutty -idea--like Wilcox a few years ago, remember him? Got the idea there -was a fiend around loose, stuffing all those kids into abandoned -refrigerators to starve. He went around trying to prove it, and getting -all upset, and pretty soon they had to put him away in the nut hatch. -Remember?" - -"I remember," said Stevenson. - -"Forget this silly stuff, Stevenson," the captain advised him. - -"Yes, sir," said Stevenson.... - -The day after Jerome Higgins went berserk, the afternoon mail brought a -crank letter to the _Daily News_: - - Dear Mr. Editor, - - You did not warn your readers. The man who shot all those people - could not escape the Scorpion. The Scorpion fights crime. No - criminal is safe from the Scorpion. WARN YOUR READERS. - - Sincerely yours, - THE SCORPION - -Unfortunately, this letter was not read by the same individual who had -seen the first one, two months before. At any rate, it was filed in the -same place, and forgotten. - - - III - -Hallowe'en is a good time for a rumble. There's too many kids around -for the cops to keep track of all of them, and if you're picked up -carrying a knife or a length of tire chain or something, why, you're on -your way to a Hallowe'en party and you're in costume. You're going as a -JD. - -The problem was this schoolyard. It was a block wide, with entrances -on two streets. The street on the north was Challenger territory, and -the street on the south was Scarlet Raider territory, and both sides -claimed the schoolyard. There had been a few skirmishes, a few guys -from both gangs had been jumped and knocked around a little, but that -had been all. Finally, the War Lords from the two gangs had met, and -determined that the matter could only be settled in a war. - -The time was chosen: Hallowe'en. The place was chosen: the schoolyard. -The weapons were chosen: pocket knives and tire chains okay, but no -pistols or zip-guns. The time was fixed: eleven P.M. And the winner -would have undisputed territorial rights to the schoolyard, both -entrances. - -The night of the rumble, the gangs assembled in their separate -clubrooms for last-minute instructions. Debs were sent out to play -chicken at the intersections nearest the schoolyard, both to warn of -the approach of cops and to keep out any non-combatant kids who might -come wandering through. - -Judy Canzanetti was a Deb with the Scarlet Raiders. She was fifteen -years old, short and black-haired and pretty in a movie-magazine, -gum-chewing sort of way. She was proud of being in the Auxiliary of the -Scarlet Raiders, and proud also of the job that had been assigned to -her. She was to stand chicken on the southwest corner of the street. - -Judy took up her position at five minutes to eleven. The streets were -dark and quiet. Few people cared to walk this neighborhood after dark, -particularly on Hallowe'en. Judy leaned her back against the telephone -pole on the corner, stuck her hands in the pockets of her Scarlet -Raider jacket and waited. - -At eleven o'clock, she heard indistinct noises begin behind her. The -rumble had started. - -At five after eleven, a bunch of little kids came wandering down the -street. They were all about ten or eleven years old, and most of them -carried trick-or-treat shopping bags. Some of them had Hallowe'en masks -on. - -They started to make the turn toward the schoolyard. Judy said, "Hey, -you kids. Take off." - -One of them, wearing a red mask, turned to look at her. "Who, us?" - -"Yes, you! Stay out of that street. Go on down that way." - -"The subway's this way," objected the kid in the red mask. - -"Who cares? You go around the other way." - - * * * * * - -"Listen, lady," said the kid in the red mask, aggrieved, "we got a long -way to go to get home." - -"Yeah," said another kid, in a black mask, "and we're late as it is." - -"I couldn't care less," Judy told them callously. "You can't go down -that street." - -"Why not?" demanded yet another kid. This one was in the most complete -and elaborate costume of them all, black leotards and a yellow shirt -and a flowing: black cape. He wore a black and gold mask and had a -black knit cap jammed down tight onto his head. "Why can't we go down -there?" this apparition demanded. - -"Because I said so," Judy told him. "Now, you kids get away from here. -Take off." - -"Hey!" cried the kid in the black-and-yellow costume. "Hey, they're -fighting down there!" - -"It's a rumble," said Judy proudly. "You twerps don't want to be -involved." - -"Hey!" cried the kid in the black-and-yellow costume again. And he went -running around Judy and dashing off down the street. - -"Hey, Eddie!" shouted one of the other kids. "Eddie, come back!" - -Judy wasn't sure what to do next. If she abandoned her post to chase -the one kid who'd gotten through, then maybe all the rest of them would -come running along after her. She didn't know what to do. - -A sudden siren and a distant flashing red light solved her problems. -"Cheez," said one of the kids. "The cops!" - -"Fuzz!" screamed Judy. She turned and raced down the block toward the -schoolyard, shouting, "Fuzz! Fuzz! Clear out, it's the fuzz!" - -But then she stopped, wide-eyed, when she saw what was going on in the -schoolyard. - -The guys from both gangs were dancing. They were jumping around, waving -their arms, throwing their weapons away. Then they all started pulling -off their gang jackets and throwing them away, whooping and hollering. -They were making such a racket themselves that they never heard Judy's -warning. They didn't even hear the police sirens. And all at once both -schoolyard entrances were full of cops, a cop had tight hold of Judy -and the rumble was over. - -Judy was so baffled and terrified that everything was just one great -big blur. But in the middle of it all, she did see the little kid in -the yellow-and-black costume go scooting away down the street. - -And she had the craziest idea that it was all his fault. - - * * * * * - -Captain Hanks was still in his realistic cycle this morning, and he was -impatient as well. "All right, Stevenson," he said. "Make it fast, I've -got a lot to do this morning. And I hope it isn't this comic-book thing -of yours again." - -"I'm afraid it is, Captain," said Stevenson. "Did you see the morning -paper?" - -"So what?" - -"Did you see that thing about the gang fight up in Manhattan?" - -Captain Hanks sighed. "Stevenson," he said wearily, "are you going to -try to connect every single time the word 'scorpion' comes up? What's -the problem with this one? These kid gangs have names, so what?" - -"Neither one of them was called 'The Scorpions,'" Stevenson told -him. "One of them was the Scarlet Raiders and the other gang was the -Challengers." - -"So they changed their name," said Hanks. - -"Both gangs? Simultaneously? To the same name?" - -"Why not? Maybe that's what they were fighting over." - -"It was a territorial war," Stevenson reminded him. "They've admitted -that much. It says so in the paper. And it also says they all deny ever -seeing that word on their jackets until after the fight." - -"A bunch of juvenile delinquents," said Hanks in disgust. "You take -their word?" - -"Captain, did you read the article in the paper?" - -"I glanced through it." - -"All right. Here's what they say happened: They say they started -fighting at eleven o'clock. And they just got going when all at once -all the metal they were carrying--knives and tire chains and coins and -belt buckles and everything else--got freezing cold, too cold to touch. -And then their leather jackets got freezing cold, so cold they had to -pull them off and throw them away. And when the jackets were later -collected, across the name of the gang on the back of each one had been -branded 'The Scorpion.'" - -"Now, let _me_ tell _you_ something," said Hanks severely. "They heard -the police sirens, and they threw all their weapons away. Then they -threw their jackets away, to try to make believe they hadn't been -part of the gang that had been fighting. But they were caught before -they could get out of the schoolyard. If the squad cars had showed -up a minute later, the schoolyard wouldn't have had anything in it -but weapons and jackets, and the kids would have been all over the -neighborhood, nice as you please, minding their own business and not -bothering anybody. _That's_ what happened. And all this talk about -freezing cold and branding names into jackets is just some smart-alec -punk's idea of a way to razz the police. Now, you just go back to -worrying about what's happening in this precinct and forget about kid -gangs up in Manhattan and comic book things like the Scorpion, or -you're going to wind up like Wilcox, with that refrigerator business. -Now, I don't want to hear any more about this nonsense, Stevenson." - -"Yes, sir," said Stevenson. - - * * * * * - -The reporter showed up two days later. He was ushered into the squad -room, where he showed his press card to Stevenson, smiled amiably and -said, "My editor sent me out on a wild-goose chase. Would you mind -chatting with me a couple minutes?" - -"Not at all," said Stevenson. - -The reporter, whose press card gave his name as Tom Roberts, settled -himself comfortably in the chair beside Stevenson's desk. "You were the -one handled that bank job down the street back in June, weren't you?" - -Stevenson nodded. - -Roberts gave an embarrassed chuckle and said, "Okay, I've got just -one question. You answer no, and then we can talk about football or -something. I mean, this is just a silly wild-goose chase, frankly. I'm -a little embarrassed about it." - -"Go ahead and ask," Stevenson told him. - -"Okay, I will. Was there the word 'scorpion' connected with that bank -job at all? In any way at all." - -Stevenson looked at the reporter and smiled. He said, "As a matter of -fact, Mr. Roberts, there was." - -Roberts blinked. "There was?" - -"Yes, indeedy. There certainly was." And Stevenson told him the full -story of the bank job. - -"I see," said Roberts dazedly when Stevenson was finished. "I see. Or, -I don't see. I don't see it at all." - -"Your turn," Stevenson told him. "Now you tell me what made you ask -that." - -"This," said Roberts. He reached into the inside pocket of his sport -jacket and withdrew a business-size envelope, which he handed over to -Stevenson. - -It was another crank letter, in the same newspaper clipping form as the -first two. It read: - - Dear Mr. Editor, - - The bad boys were captured. They could not escape the Scorpion. I - left the mark of the Scorpion on their jackets. Criminals fear the - mark of the Scorpion. They cannot escape. This is my third letter - to you. You should warn all criminals to leave the city. They - cannot escape the Scorpion. WARN YOUR READERS. - - Sincerely yours, - THE SCORPION - -Stevenson read the letter. "Well, well," he said. - -"He says that's the third letter," Roberts pointed out. "We asked -around in the office, and we found out who got the first two. They were -both back a ways. The first one was early in the summer, and the guy -who read it remembered it said something about a bank robbery. So I was -sent out this morning to check up on bank robberies in June and July. -You're the third one I've talked to this morning. The first two figured -me for some kind of nut." - - * * * * * - -"My Captain figures me the same way," Stevenson told him. "What about -the second letter? Or, wait, don't tell me, I'll tell you. It's that -guy in August, the one who ran amok over in Canarsie." - -"Right you are," said Roberts. "How did you know?" - -"I was there. He left his mark on the rifle stock." - -"Okay," said Roberts. "So there's something in it, after all." - -"There's _something_ in it," said Stevenson. "The question is, what?" - -"Well," said Roberts, "what have we got so far? Somebody--call it -person or persons unknown, for the fun of it--is stepping in every once -in a while when there's a crime being committed. He stops it. He calls -himself the Scorpion, and he uses some pretty dizzy methods. He melts -automobile tires, makes a rifle too hot to hold, makes knives and -leather jackets ice cold--how in heck does he do things like that?" - -"Yeah," said Stevenson. "And just incidentally, who is he?" - -"Well," said Roberts, "he's a kid, that much is obvious. That whole -letter _sounds_ like a kid. Talking about 'the bad boys' and stuff like -that." - -"What do you figure, some scientist's kid maybe?" - -"Maybe," said Roberts. "His old man is working on something in his -little old laboratory in the cellar, and every once in a while the kid -sneaks in and makes off with the ray gun or whatever it is." Roberts -laughed. "I feel silly even talking about it," he said. - -"I'd feel silly, too," Stevenson told him, "if I hadn't seen what this -kid can do." - -"Can we work anything out from the timing?" Roberts asked him. "He -seems to show up once every couple of months." - -"Let me check." - -Stevenson went over to the filing cabinet and looked up the dates. "The -bank job," he said, "was on Wednesday, June 29th. At eleven o'clock in -the morning. That Higgins guy was on--here it is--Friday, August 5th, -around noon. And this last one was on Hallowe'en, Monday, October 31st, -at eleven o'clock at night." - -"If you can see a pattern in there," Roberts told him, "you're a -better man than I am." - -"Well, the first two," Stevenson said, "were in the daytime, during the -summer, when school was out. That's all I can figure." - -"Why just those three?" Roberts asked. "If he's out to fight crime, -he's pretty inefficient about it. He's only gone to work three times in -four months." - -"Well, he's a kid," said Stevenson. "I suppose he has to wait until he -stumbles across something." - -"And then rush home for Daddy's ray gun?" - -Stevenson shook his head. "It beats me. The only one that makes sense -is the second one. That one was televised. He probably saw it that way. -The other two times, he just happened to be around." - -"I don't know," said Roberts. "Does a kid happen to be around twice in -four months when there's crimes being committed? Now, the Hallowe'en -thing, I can see that. A kid is liable to be out wandering around, -maybe go off to a strange neighborhood after he's done with his -trick-or-treat stuff. Hallowe'en is a good time for a kid to see some -other kids breaking a law. And the thing in Canarsie, like you say, he -probably saw that on television. But what about the bank job?" - -"That was the first," said Stevenson thoughtfully. "That was what set -him off. He was there at the time. Just by accident. And he saw they -were getting away, so he zapped them. And right away he put the drama -into it, right on the spur of the moment he decided to be the Scorpion. -Then he sent the letter to your paper. But nothing else happened, and -the paper didn't print anything about his letter or what he'd done, and -he kind of forgot about it. Until he was watching television and saw -the Higgins thing. Pow, the Scorpion rides again. And then it died down -again until a couple of nights ago he saw the rumble, and pow all over -again." - -"What you're saying," Roberts told him, "is that this kid wanders -around with Daddy's zap gun all the time. That doesn't seem very -likely." - -"Face it," said Stevenson. "Daddy's zap gun isn't the likeliest thing -I ever heard of, either. I don't know how the kid does this. For that -matter, it's only an educated guess that it's a kid we're after." - -"Okay," said Roberts. "So what do we do now?" - -"Now," said Stevenson, "I think we talk to the captain. And then I have -a feeling we'll be talking to the FBI." - - - IV - -Judy Canzanetti was a frightened girl. First, there had been that crazy -thing in the schoolyard, and then being dragged in by the police, and -then being chewed out by Mom, and now here she was being dragged in by -the police again, for absolutely nothing at all. - -They were all there, in the big empty room like a gymnasium in the -police station, the guys and debs from both gangs, all milling around -and confused. And the cops were taking all the kids out one at a time -and questioning them. - -When the cop pointed at her and said, "Okay. You next," Judy almost -broke into tears. - -This wasn't like anything she knew or anything she could have expected. -This wasn't like after the rumble, with the guys wisecracking the cops, -and nothing to worry about but a chewing-out from Mom. This was scary. -They were taking people out one at a time to question them. And nobody -was coming back into the room, and who knew what happened to you when -it was your turn? - -"Come on," said the cop. "Step along." - -She stepped along, numb and miserable. - -There were four men in the room to which she was led. They were sitting -behind a long table, with notebooks and pencils and ashtrays on the -table. In front of them was a straight-backed armless chair. The cop -sat her down in the chair, and left the room. - -One of the men said, "Your name is Judy Canzanetti, is that right?" - -"Yes, sir." It came out a whisper. She cleared her throat and tried -again. "Yes, sir." - -"You don't have to be frightened, Judy," said the man. "You aren't -going to be accused of anything. My name is Marshall, Stephen Marshall. -This gentleman on my right is Stewart Lang. We're with the FBI. That -gentleman there is Mr. Stevenson, and he's a detective from Brooklyn. -And that there is Mr. Roberts, and he's a reporter. And we all simply -want to ask you one or two questions. All right?" - -The man was obviously trying to calm her down, make her relax. And he -succeeded to some extent. Judy said, "Yes, sir," in a small voice and -nodded, no longer quite so frightened. - -None of the four men were particularly frightening in appearance. The -two FBI men were long and lean, with bleak bony faces like cowboys. The -detective was a short worried-looking man with a paunch and thinning -black hair. And the reporter was a cheerful round-faced man in a loud -sport coat and a bow tie. - -"Now," said Marshall, "you were present at the time of the gang fight -on Hallowe'en, is that right?" - -"Yes, sir. Well, no, sir. Not exactly. I was down at the corner." - -Mister Marshall smiled briefly. "On lookout?" he asked. - -"Yes, sir." - -"I see. And do you remember seeing anyone present at all aside from the -boys in the two gangs and the police?" - - * * * * * - -"No, sir. That is, not except a bunch of little kids. They came along -just before the co--the police." - -"A bunch of little kids?" - -The detective named Stevenson said urgently, "Did you recognize any of -them?" - -"No, sir. They weren't from around the neighborhood." - -Marshall said, "You'd never seen them before?" - -"No, sir. They were just a bunch of little kids. Grade school kids. -They were out with costumes on and everything, playing trick-or-treat." - -"Did they go near the schoolyard at all?" - -"No, sir. Except for one of them. You see, I was supposed to keep -people away, tell them to go around the other way. And these kids came -along. I told them to go around the other way, but they said they had -to get to the subway." - -"The subway?" echoed Stevenson. - -"Yes, sir. They said they were out too late anyway and it was a long -way to go to get home." - -The man named Marshall said, "You said one of them _did_ go down by the -schoolyard?" - -"Yes, sir. I told them all to go around the other way and the one kid -said, 'Hey, they're fighting,' or something like that, and he ran down -the street. I tried to stop him. But he got away from me." - -"And then what happened?" asked Stevenson. - -"Then I saw the fuzz--the police coming. I ran down to warn everybody. -And all the guys were jumping around throwing their coats away." - -"And the little boy?" - -"I didn't see him at all any more. Except after the police came. I saw -him go running around the corner." - -"What did this boy look like?" Stevenson asked. - -"Gee, I don't know, sir." - -"You don't know?" - -"No, sir. He was in his Hallowe'en costume." - -The four men looked at one another. "A costume," said the one named -Roberts, the reporter. "My God, a _costume_." - -"Yes, sir," said Judy. "It was all black and gold. Tight black pants -and a yellow shirt and a black cape and a funny kind of mask that -covered his face, black and gold. And a kind of cap like maybe a skull -cap on his head, black, only it was knit. Like the sailors wear in the -Merchant Marine." - -"Black and gold," said Roberts. He seemed awed by something. - -"So you can't identify this boy at all," said Stevenson forlornly. - -"One of the other kids called him Eddie," she said, suddenly -remembering. - -They spent fifteen minutes more with her, going over the same ground -again and again, but she just didn't have any more to tell them. And -finally they let her go. - - * * * * * - -Mr. Featherhall and Miss English were distant but courteous. It was, -after all, banking hours. On the other hand, these four men were police -and FBI, on official business. - -"It _has_ been a rather long time," Featherhall objected gently. "Well -over four months." - -"It seemed to me," said Miss English, "that the police took the names -of all the people who'd been here at the time of the robbery." - -"There may have been other people present," suggested Marshall, "who -left before the confusion was over. There are any number of people in -this world who like to avoid being involved in things like this." - -"I can certainly appreciate their position," said Miss English, -reminiscently touching her fingertips to her head. - -"Miss English was very brave," Featherhall told the policemen. "She -created the diversion that spoiled their plans." - -"Yes, we know," said Marshall. "We've heard about what you did, Miss -English." - -"To tell you the truth," she said primly, "I was most concerned about -the boy. To be exposed to something like that at his tender--" - -"Boy?" interrupted Stevenson rudely. "Did you say _boy_?" - -"Why, yes," said Miss English. "There was a little boy in here at the -time, with his mother. Didn't you know?" - -"No, we didn't," said Marshall. "Could you describe this boy?" - -"Well, he was--well, not more than ten years old, if that. And -he--well, it has been a long time, as Mr. Featherhall said. He was just -a child, a normal average child." - -"Not exactly average," said Stevenson cryptically. - -"You said he was in here with his mother," said Marshall. - -"That's right. I've seen her in here a number of times." - -"Yes, of course," said Marshall. - -"Has she been here since the robbery?" asked Stevenson. - -"Yes, I believe she has." - -"So that you would recognize her if you saw her again." - -"Yes, I would. I'm sure I would. She almost always comes in with the -boy. Or, no, she doesn't, not any more. Not since school started. But -she did all summer." - -"She comes in often, then." - -"I believe so," said Miss English. "Fairly often." - -Marshall produced a small card, which he handed to Miss English. "The -next time she comes in," he said, "we'd appreciate it if you'd call us -at that number. Ask for me, Mr. Marshall." - -"I will," said Miss English. "I surely will." - - * * * * * - -The four of them sat talking in Marshall's office. - -Tom Roberts had his shoes off, his feet on the windowsill, his spine -curved into the chair and a cigarette dangling from the corner of his -mouth. He had one eye closed and was sighting between his socked feet -at the building across the way. - -"The thing that bothers me," he said, the cigarette waggling in his -mouth, "is just that I'm sure as I can be that I'll never get to -write a word of this story. You gimlet-eyed types will clamp down on -this kid, and that'll be the end of it. Security, by George. National -defense. I wonder whatever happened to freedom of the press." - -"The press overworked it," Marshall told him. - -"The thing is," said Lang, "whatever weapon or machine this boy is -using, it's something that the government knows absolutely nothing -about. We've sent up a report on the effects of this thing, whatever -it is, and there's been the damnedest complete survey of current -government research projects you can imagine. There is nothing at all -like it even on the drawing boards." - -"Whatever the boy is using," said Marshall, "and wherever he got it -from, it isn't a part of the government's arsenal of weapons." - -"Which it _has_ to be," Lang added. "Can you imagine a weapon that -selectively increases or decreases the temperature of any specific -object or any specific _part_ of an object? From a _distance_? I -wouldn't like to be sitting on a stockpile of hydrogen warheads with -somebody aiming that weapon at me. He simply presses the 'hot' button, -and blooey!" - -"You see a jet bomber coming," said Marshall. "You point the weapon, -press the 'cold' button, and flame-out. That pilot bought the farm." - -"What _I'd_ like to know," said Lang, "is where he got his hands on -this thing in the first place. Not only is there no machine or weapon -we know of which can do this sort of thing, but our tame experts assure -us that no such machine or weapon is possible." - -"Great," said Stevenson. "We're looking for a ten-year-old kid armed -with a weapon that no adult in the country could even imagine as -possible." - -The phone rang at that point, and for a second no one moved. They all -sat and looked at the jangling phone. Then Marshall and Lang moved -simultaneously, but it was Marshall who answered. "Marshall here." - -The others watched him, heard him say, "Yes, Miss English. Right." And -reach forward on the desk for pad and pencil. "Right, got it. You're -sure that's the one? Right. Thank you very much." - -Marshall cradled the phone, and looked at the others. "The woman came -in. Her name is Mrs. Albert J. Clayhorn, and she lives on Newkirk -Avenue. Miss English said the number would be near East 17th." - -"Five blocks from the bank," said Stevenson. - -"And about eighty blocks from Higgins' house," said Roberts. "That's -why it took him so long to go to work that time. He saw what was -happening on television, grabbed his weapon and his trusty bike and -went riding out to Canarsie. The Scorpion rides again!" - -Marshall looked at his watch. "It's only a little after one," he said. -"We can talk to the mother before the boy comes home." - -"Right," said Stevenson, getting to his feet. - - - V - -Mrs. Elizabeth Clayhorn was a short, roundish, pleasant-faced woman -in a flower-pattern apron. She looked at the identification Marshall -showed her, and smiled uncertainly. "FBI? I don't under--Well, come -in." - -"Thank you." - -The living room was neat and airy. The four men settled themselves. - -Marshall, uncomfortably, was the spokesman. "I'm going to have to -explain this, Mrs. Clayhorn," he said, "and frankly, it isn't going -to be easy. You see--" He cleared his throat and tried again. "Well, -here's the situation. Someone in New York has a rather strange machine -of some sort--well, it's sort of a heat machine, I suppose you could -say--and we've traced it, through its use, to, uh--well, to your son." - -"To Eddie?" Mrs. Clayhorn was looking very blank. "Eddie?" - -"I take it," said Marshall, instead of answering, "that your son hasn't -told you about this machine." - -"Well, no. Well, of course not. I mean, he's just a little boy. I -mean, how could he have any sort of machine? What is it, a blowtorch, -something like that?" - -"Not exactly," said Marshall. "Could you tell me, Mrs. Clayhorn, what -your husband does for a living?" - -"Well, he runs a grocery store. The Bohack's up on Flatbush Avenue." - -"I see." - -Lang took over the questioning. "Are there any other persons living -here, Mrs. Clayhorn? Any boarders?" - -"No, there's only the three of us." - -"Well, is Eddie interested in anything of a, well, a scientific nature? -In school, perhaps?" - -"Oh, Lord, no. He hasn't had any real science subjects yet. He's only -in the fifth grade. His best subject is history, but that's because he -likes to read, and history is all reading. He got that from me, I read -all the time." - -"He doesn't have one of these junior chemistry sets, then, or anything -like that?" - -"No, not at all. He just isn't interested. We even got him an Erector -set last Christmas, and he played with it for a day or two and then -gave it up completely and went back to reading." - -"The thing is," said Stevenson, with ill-concealed desperation, "he -does have this machine." - -"Are you sure it's Eddie?" - -"Yes, mam, we're sure." - -"Mrs. Clayhorn," said Marshall, "the boy does have this machine. The -government is very interested in it, and--" - -"Well, I don't see how a ten-year-old boy--but if you say so, then I -suppose it's so. Of course, he'll be home from school at three-thirty. -You could ask _him_, if you want." - - * * * * * - -"We'd rather not, just yet," said Marshall. "We think it might not be -the best idea. As you say, Eddie is very interested in reading. He's -been using this machine, and, uh, well, he's been making a big secret -out of it, like the characters in comic books. We wouldn't want to -spoil that secret for him, at least not until we actually have the -machine in our own possession." - -"I see," said Mrs. Clayhorn doubtfully. - -"Mam," said Stevenson, "we don't have any sort of search warrant. But -we would like to take a look in Eddie's room, with your permission." - -"Well, if you really think it's important--" - -"It is," said Marshall. - -"Then, I suppose it's all right. It's the door on the right, at the end -of the hall." - -The three men, feeling large and cumbersome, searched the boy's room. -It was a boy's room, nothing less and nothing more. The closet floor -and shelves were stacked with comic books, there were baseball trading -cards in the top bureau drawer, there were pennants on the walls. There -was no heat machine, nor any hint of a heat machine. - -"I just don't know," said Marshall at last. - -"Unless he carries it all the time," said Lang. - -"Sure," said Stevenson. "That's why he had it with him in the bank that -day." - -"Maybe," said Marshall. "I just don't know. You know, I don't really -believe there _is_ a machine." - -"Of course there is," said Stevenson. "We've seen what it can do." - -"Oh, I'm not denying the boy caused those things. But I just have the -completely insane conviction that there isn't any machine." Marshall -shrugged. "Ah, well, never mind. Let's go back and soothe the mother." - -They soothed her, which took some doing, not because she was at all -worried, but because she was so curious she could hardly sit still. But -Marshall, by looking very stern and official, and by speaking in round -long-syllabled sentences, finally convinced her that the welfare of the -nation was absolutely dependent upon her not mentioning anything at all -about this visit to Eddie, under any circumstances. - -"We'll be back to talk to the boy in a day or two," Marshall told her. -"In the meantime, we'd prefer him not to be forewarned." - -"If you say so," she said, frowning. - - * * * * * - -The school principal, a gray battleship named Miss Evita Dexter, was -irate. The idea that pornographic materials were being sold in _her_ -schoolyard was absurd. It was ridiculous. It was unheard-of. - -Stevenson assured her that, adjectives notwithstanding, it was -happening. And they were going to have a shakedown of the student body -whether Miss Dexter liked it or not. Detective-Sergeant Stevenson and -his associates, Marshall and Lang, were going to go through the student -body with a fine tooth comb. - -Neither Marshall nor Lang had mentioned the fact that they were from -the FBI. - -The search began at nine forty-five in the morning, and ended at ten -past twelve. - -On the persons of three eighth-grade boys, they found pornographic -photos. - -On the person of Eddie Clayhorn, they found absolutely nothing.... - -Abner Streitman Long was a government expert. He was more or less a -government expert in the ready reserve, since he had never once been -called upon to use his expertise for the government. - -Not until now. - -Abner Streitman Long was Resident Professor of Psychology at Mandar -University. He was also one of the world's foremost and best-known -experimenters in the area of parapsychology, also called Extra-Sensory -Perception, also called psionics. - -The government, as a matter of principle, didn't believe in psionics. -But the government, also as a matter of principle, kept a psionics -expert handy, just in case. - -The "just in case" had maybe happened. - -Professor Long sat in Marshall's office and listened stolidly to the -problem. The expert was a tall, barrel-chested man with a fantastic -shock of white hair exploding out in all directions from his head. -His nose was bulbous, his jaw out-thrust, his eyes deepset, his ears -hairy, his hands huge and his feet huger. He looked like a dressed-up -lumberjack, of the old school. - -He listened, and they talked, and every once in a while he nodded, and -said, "Huh." His voice was, predictably, basso profundo. - - * * * * * - -Then they were finished, and Professor Long summed it all up. "He -changes the temperature of objects. Yes?" - -"Yes," said Marshall. - -"You looked for a machine. Yes?" - -"Yes, and we didn't find it." - -"And your thermodynamics people said no such machine could exist -anyway, yes?" - -"That's right." - -"Then why did you look for it?" - -"Because," said Marshall desperately, "we'd seen it in action. That is, -we'd seen the result of its use." - -"Yes," said the professor. He sucked on his lower lip and abstractedly -watched his thumbs twiddle. "Pyrotic," he announced at last. - -"I beg your pardon?" asked Marshall. - -"Pyrotic," repeated the professor. "Yes? Yes. Pyrotic. Do you know what -that is?" - -"No," said Marshall. - -"Good," said the professor. "Neither do I. But I have a theory. There -are more theories than there are phenomena. That always happens. -But listen to this theory. The mind reaches into the object on the -molecular level, and adjusts the molecules, _so_. The temperature -changes. Do you see?" - -"Not exactly," said Marshall doubtfully. - -"Neither do I. Never mind. I know lots of theories, none of them make -any sense. But they all try to explain." - -"If you say so," said Marshall. - -"Yes. I say so. _Now._ As a psychologist, I will tell you something -else. This boy has made this a secret, yes? The Scorpion, he calls -himself, and, like his heroes of the comic books, he uses his power for -good. Shazam, yes? Captain Marvel." - -"Yes," said Stevenson, nodding emphatically. - -"Now, what happens if you go to this boy and tell him, 'We know you are -the Scorpion? Your secret is out.' What happens then?" - -"I don't know," said Marshall. - -"Think," suggested Professor Long. "Batman, let us say, or Superman. -Quite apart from fighting crime, what is the major task confronting -these heroes? That of maintaining the secrecy of their identity, yes?" - -The four men nodded. - -"Now," said Professor Long, "to the mind of a ten-year-old boy, what -is the implication? The implication is this: If the secret of the -identity is lost the power of the hero is also lost. This is the clear -implication. Yes?" - -"You mean this boy wouldn't be able to do it any more if we went and -talked to him?" asked Lang. - -"I don't say that," cautioned the professor. "I do say this: He will -_believe_ that he has lost the power. And this belief may be sufficient -to destroy the power. Yes?" - -"In other words," said Marshall, "you're saying that we can't ask this -boy how he manages his stunt, because if we do then he probably won't -be able to manage it any more." - - * * * * * - -"A distinct possibility," said the professor. "But only a temporary -possibility. The drama of the Scorpion will not, I imagine, survive -puberty." - -"But will the _ability_ survive puberty?" - -"No one can know. No one can even guess." - -"Now, here's the thing," said Marshall. "Not downgrading your theories -at all, Professor, they are nevertheless still only theories. Frankly, -given my choice between an impossible machine and a boy with the power -to _think_ things hot and cold, I'll give the impossible machine the -edge. At this point, accepting the idea of the machine, our next move -is simple. We go ask the boy to give it to us. From what you say, we -can't even do that." - -"My best advice," said the professor, "would be to keep the boy under -careful surveillance for the next three or four years. Gradually get to -know him, carefully work out a long-range program involving his reading -habits, the attitudes of his teachers and parents, the sort of external -stimuli to which he is--" - -"Fellas," said Roberts suddenly. "Oh, fellas." - -They turned to look at him. He was in his favorite pose, shoes off, -feet up on the windowsill. He was now pointing at the window. "Do you -fellas see what I see?" he asked them. - -They saw. The window was frosting. It was a rainy, humid mid-November -day, and moisture was condensing on the window pane. It was condensing, -and then it was freezing. - -It didn't take long. No more than a minute passed from the time Roberts -noticed the thing beginning until the time it was complete. And then -they watched various specific sections of the window defrost again. - -It was a very strange looking window. It was covered with frost, but -there were lines of bare window, as though the frost had been scraped -away. The lines formed letters, and the letters formed words, and the -words were: - - POO. MOM TOLD ME. - -"My God," said Marshall. - -"Well, well, well, well, well," said Stevenson. - -"Yes," said Professor Long. He nodded, and turned away from the window -to look at the door. "You may come in now, Eddie," he called. - -The door opened, and Eddie Clayhorn stood there, in civilian clothes. -He beamed at the window. "That was tricky," he said. - -"So," said Professor Long. "I was mistaken, eh? Exposure does not spoil -things, is that it?" - -"Sometimes," said Eddie Clayhorn, "the hero has one or two trusted -friends on the police force who know who he is and give him tips about -criminals. But they never tell anybody." - -"Of course!" said Professor Long. "And we are _your_ trusted friends. -Yes?" - -"Sure. But you can't tell my parents or anybody." - -Roberts leaned forward and gingerly touched the frosted window. It was -cold, very cold. He turned and looked with awed eyes at Eddie Clayhorn. - -Slowly, he smiled. "Scorp old boy," he said, "you can just call me -Tonto. Kimosabe!" - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Call Him Nemesis, by Donald E. 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