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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..e7f2832 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #65792 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/65792) diff --git a/old/65792-0.txt b/old/65792-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6c971b4..0000000 --- a/old/65792-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5706 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Worlds of the Imperium, by Keith -Laumer - -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 -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Worlds of the Imperium - -Author: Keith Laumer - -Release Date: July 7, 2021 [eBook #65792] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLDS OF THE IMPERIUM *** - - - - - - WORLDS of the IMPERIUM - - By KEITH LAUMER - - ACE BOOKS, INC. - 23 West 47th Street, New York 36, N.Y. - - Copyright, 1962, by Ace Books, Inc. - - All Rights Reserved - - Printed in U.S.A. - - [Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any - evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - - - - DOUBLE TROUBLE FOR A DUPLICATE DICTATOR - - -For Brion Bayard, the discovery of an alternate world to Earth -where history took a different turn in the road was not a pleasant -experience. His kidnapping brought him some startling revelations. -Here was a world in which appeared identical doubles of famous -personages--including a dangerous and hated dictator named Brion Bayard! - -His assignment seemed simple enough. Dressed as his double, Brion was -to enter the enemy stronghold, kill the dictator, and take his place -until law and order could be maintained. - -But once having seen his mirror-image brother, Brion had as little -inclination to murder him as some other people had to let him live. - - - - - CAST OF CHARACTERS - - -Brion Bayard: How much of his double was himself? - -Chief Inspector Bale: In alternate worlds, he still meant double -trouble. - -Hermann Goering: The same name, the same body, yet not the same man. - -Barbro Lundane: A Swedish lass with a sweetish air. - -Gaston: In a second world, he still had but one life to give for the -cause. - -Brion Bayard (2): His arch-enemy was his only friend. - - - - - Chapter 1 - - -I stopped in front of a shop with a small wooden sign which hung from a -wrought-iron spear projecting from the weathered stone wall. On it the -word Antikvariat was lettered in spidery gold against dull black. The -sign creaked as it swung in the night wind. Below it a metal grating -covered a dusty window with a display of yellowed etchings, woodcuts, -and lithographs, and a faded mezzotint. Some of the buildings in the -pictures looked familiar, but here they stood in open fields, or -perched on hills overlooking a harbor crowded with sails. The ladies -in the pictures wore great bell-like skirts and bonnets with ribbons, -and carried tiny parasols, while dainty-footed horses pranced before -carriages in the background. - -It wasn't the prints that interested me though, or even the heavy -gilt frame embracing a tarnished mirror at one side; it was the man -whose reflection I studied in the yellowed glass, a dark man wearing a -tightly-belted grey trench coat that was six inches too long. He stood -with his hands thrust deep in his pockets and stared into a darkened -window fifty feet from me. - -He had been following me all day. - -At first I thought it was coincidence when I noticed the man on the bus -from Bromma, then studying theatre announcements in the hotel lobby -while I registered, and half an hour later sitting three tables away -sipping coffee while I ate a hearty dinner. - -I had discarded the coincidence theory a long time ago. Five hours -had passed and he was still with me as I walked through the Old Town, -medieval Stockholm still preserved on an island in the middle of the -city. I had walked past shabby windows crammed with copper pots, ornate -silver, dueling pistols, and worn cavalry sabres; they were all very -quaint in the afternoon sun, but grim reminders of a ruder day of -violence after midnight. Over the echo of my footsteps in the silent -narrow streets the other steps came quietly behind, hurrying when I -hurried, stopping when I stopped. Now the man stared into the dark -window and waited. The next move was up to me. - -I was lost. Twenty years is a long time to remember the tortuous -turnings of the streets of the Old Town. I took my guide book from my -pocket and turned to the map in the back. My fingers were clumsy. - -I craned my neck up at the stone tablet set in the corner of the -building; it was barely legible: Master Samuelsgatan. I found the name -on the folding map and saw that it ran for three short blocks, ending -at Gamla Storgatan; a dead end. In the dim light it was difficult to -see the fine detail on the map. I twisted the book around and got a -clearer view; there appeared to be another tiny street, marked with -cross-lines, and labeled Guldsmedstrappan. - -I tried to remember my Swedish; _trappan_ meant stair. The Goldsmith's -Stairs, running from Master Samuelsgatan to Hundgatan, another tiny -street. It seemed to lead to the lighted area near the palace; it -looked like my only route out. I dropped the book back into my pocket -and moved off casually toward the stairs of the Goldsmith. I hoped -there was no gate across the entrance. - -My shadow waited a moment, then followed. As I was ambling, I slowly -gained a little on him. He seemed in no hurry at all. I passed more -tiny shops, with iron-bound doors and worn stone sills, and then saw -that the next doorway was an open arch with littered granite steps -ascending abruptly. I paused idly, then turned in. Once past the -portal, I bounded up the steps at top speed. Six leaps, eight, and I -was at the top, darting to the left toward a deep doorway. There was -just a chance I'd cleared the top of the stair before the dark man -had reached the bottom. I stood and listened. I heard the scrape of -shoes, then heavy breathing from the direction of the stairs a few feet -away. I waited, breathing with my mouth wide open, trying not to pant -audibly. After a moment the steps moved away. The proper move for my -silent companion would be to cast about quickly for my hiding place, on -the assumption that I had concealed myself close by. He would be back -this way soon. - -I risked a glance. He was moving quickly along, looking sharply about, -with his back to me. I pulled off my shoes and without taking time to -think about it, stepped out. I made it to the stairs in three paces, -and faded out of sight as the man stopped to turn back. I leaped down -three steps at a time; I was halfway down when my foot hit a loose -stone, and I flew the rest of the way. - -I hit the cobblestones shoulder first, and followed up with my head. I -rolled over and scrambled to my feet, my head ringing. I clung to the -wall by the foot of the steps as the pain started. Now I was getting -mad. I heard the soft-shod feet coming down the stairs, and gathered -myself to jump him as he came out. The footsteps hesitated just before -the arch, then the dark round head with the uncut hair peeped out. I -swung a haymaker--and missed. - -He darted into the street and turned, fumbling in his overcoat. -I assumed he was trying to get a gun, and aimed a kick at his -mid-section. I had better luck this time; I connected solidly, and had -the satisfaction of hearing him gasp in agony. I hoped he hurt as badly -as I did. Whatever he was fumbling for came free then, and he backed -away, holding the thing in his mouth. - -"One-oh-nine, where in bloody blazes are you?" he said in a harsh -voice, glaring at me. He had an odd accent. I realized the thing was -some sort of microphone. "Come in, one-oh-nine, this job's going to -pieces...." He backed away, talking, eyes on me. I leaned against the -wall; I was hurt too badly to be very aggressive. There was no one else -in sight. His soft shoes made whispering sounds on the paving stones. -Mine lay in the middle of the street where I had dropped them when I -fell. - -Then there was a sound behind me. I whirled, and saw the narrow street -almost blocked by a huge van. I let my breath out with a sigh of -relief. Here was help. - -Two men jumped down from the van, and without hesitation stepped up to -me, took my arms and escorted me toward the rear of the van. They wore -tight white uniforms, and said nothing. - -"I'm all right," I said. "Grab that man." About that time I realized he -was following along, talking excitedly to the man in white, and that -the grip on my arms was more of a restraint than a support. I dug in my -heels and tried to pull away. I remembered suddenly that the Stockholm -police don't wear white uniforms. - -I might as well not have bothered. One of them unclipped a thing like -a tiny aerosol bomb from his belt and sprayed it into my face. I felt -myself go limp. - - - - - Chapter 2 - - -There was a scratching sound which irritated me. I tried unsuccessfully -to weave it into a couple of dreams before my subconscious gave up. -I was lying on my back, eyes closed. I couldn't think where I was. -I remembered a frightening dream about being followed, and then as I -became aware of pain in my shoulder and head, my eyes snapped open. I -was lying on a cot at the side of a small office; the scratching came -from the desk where a dapper man in a white uniform sat writing. There -was a humming sound and a feeling of motion. - -I sat up. At once the man behind the desk looked up, rose, and walked -over to me. He drew up a chair and sat down. - -"Please don't be alarmed," he said in a clipped British accent. "I'm -Chief Captain Winter. You need merely to assist in giving me some -routine information, after which you will be assigned comfortable -quarters." He said all this in a smooth lifeless way, as though he'd -been through it before. Then he looked directly at me for the first -time. - -"I must apologize for the callousness with which you were handled; it -was not my intention. However," his tone changed, "you must excuse the -operative; he was uninformed." - -Chief Captain Winter opened a notebook and lolled back in his chair -with pencil poised. "Where were you born, Mr. Bayard?" - -They must have been through my pockets, I thought; they know my name. - -"Who the hell are you?" I said. - -The chief captain raised an eyebrow. His uniform was immaculate, and -brilliantly jewelled decorations sparkled on his chest. - -"Of course you are confused at this moment, Mr. Bayard, but everything -will be explained to you carefully in due course. I am an Imperial -officer, duly authorized to interrogate subjects under detention." He -smiled soothingly. "Now please state your birthplace." - -I said nothing. I didn't feel like answering any questions; I had too -many of my own to ask first. I couldn't place the fellow's accent. He -was an Englishman all right, but I couldn't have said from what part -of England. I glanced at the medals. Most of them were strange but I -recognized the scarlet ribbon of the Victoria Cross, with three palms, -ornamented with gems. There was something extremely phoney about Chief -Captain Winter. - -"Come along now, old chap," Winter said sharply. "Kindly cooperate. It -will save a great deal of unpleasantness." - -I looked at him grimly. "I find being chased, grabbed, gassed, stuffed -in a cell, and quizzed about my personal life pretty damned unpleasant -already, so don't bother trying to keep it all on a high plane. I'm not -answering any questions." I reached in my pocket for my passport; it -wasn't there. - -"Since you've already stolen my passport, you know by now that I'm an -American diplomat, and enjoy diplomatic immunity to any form of arrest, -detention, interrogation and what have you. So I'm leaving as soon as -you return my property, including my shoes." - -Winter's face had stiffened up. I could see my act hadn't had much -impression on him. He signalled, and two fellows I hadn't seen before -moved around into view. They were bigger than he was. - -"Mr. Bayard, you must answer my questions, under duress, if necessary. -Kindly begin by stating your birthplace." - -"You'll find it in my passport," I said. I was looking at the two -reinforcements; they were as easy to ignore as a couple of bulldozers -in the living room. I decided on a change of tactics. I'd play along in -the hope they'd relax a bit, and then make a break for it. - -One of the men, at a signal, handed Winter my passport from his desk. -He glanced through it, made a number of notes, and passed the booklet -back to me. - -"Thank you, Mr. Bayard," he said pleasantly. "Now let's get on to -particulars. Where did you attend school?" - -I tried hard now to give the impression of one eager to please. -I regretted my earlier truculence; it made my present pose of -co-operativeness a little less plausible. Winter must have been -accustomed to the job though, and to subjects who were abject. After -a few minutes he waved an arm at the two bouncers, who left the room -silently. - -Winter had gotten on to the subject of international relations and -geopolitics now, and seem to be fascinated by my commonplace replies. I -attempted once or twice to ask why it was necessary to quiz me closely -on matters of general information, but was firmly guided back to the -answering of the questions. - -He covered geography and recent history thoroughly with emphasis on -the period 1879-1910, and then started in on a biographic list; all I -knew about one name after another. Most of them I'd never heard of, a -few were minor public figures. He quizzed me in detail on two Italians, -Cocino and Maxoni. He could hardly believe I'd never heard of them. He -seemed fascinated by many of my replies. - -"Niven an actor?" he said incredulously. "Never heard of Crane Talbot?" -and when I described Churchill's role in recent affairs, he laughed -uproariously. - -After forty minutes of this one-sided discussion, a buzzer sounded -faintly, and another uniformed man entered, placed a good-sized box on -the corner of the desk, and left. Winter ignored the interruption. - -Another twenty minutes of questions went by. Who was the present -monarch of Anglo-Germany? Winter asked. What was the composition of the -royal family, the ages of the children? I exhausted my knowledge of the -subject. What was the status of the Viceroyalty of India? Explain the -working of the Dominion arrangements of Australia, Northern America, -Cabotsland...? I was appalled at the questions; the author of them -must have been insane. It was almost impossible to link the garbled -reference to non-existent political subdivisions and institutions to -reality. I answered as matter-of-factly as possible. At least Winter -did not seem to be much disturbed by my revision of his distorted -version of affairs. - -At last Winter rose, moved over to his desk, and motioned me to a chair -beside it. As I pulled the chair out, I glanced into the box on the -desk. I saw magazines, folded cloth, coins--and the butt of a small -automatic protruding from under a copy of the World Almanac. Winter had -turned away, reaching into a small cabinet behind the desk. My hand -darted out, scooped up the pistol, and dropped it into my pocket as I -seated myself. - -Winter turned back with a blue glass bottle. "Now let's have a drop -and I'll attempt to clear up some of your justifiable confusion, Mr. -Bayard," he said genially. "What would you like to know?" I ignored the -bottle. - -"Where am I?" I said. - -"In the city of Stockholm, Sweden." - -"We seem to be moving; what is this, a moving van with an office in it?" - -"This is a vehicle, though not a moving van." - -"Why did you pick me up?" - -"I'm sorry that I can tell you no more than that you were brought in -under specific orders from a very high-ranking officer of the Imperial -Service." He looked at me speculatively. "This was most unusual," he -added. - -"I take it kidnapping inoffensive persons is not in itself unusual." - -Winter frowned. "You are the subject of an official operation -of Imperial Intelligence. Please rest assured you are not being -persecuted." - -"What is Imperial Intelligence?" - -"Mr. Bayard," Winter said earnestly, leaning forward, "it will be -necessary for you to face a number of realizations; the first is that -the governments which you are accustomed to regard as supreme sovereign -powers must in fact be considered tributary to the Imperium, the -Paramount Government in whose service I am an officer." - -"You're a fake," I said. - -Winter bristled. "I hold an Imperial Commission as Chief Captain of -Intelligence." - -"What do you call this vehicle we're in?" - -"This is an armed TNL scout based at Stockholm Zero Zero." - -"That tells me a lot; what is it, a boat, car, airplane...?" - -"None of those, Mr. Bayard." - -"All right, I'll be specific; what does it travel on, water, air...?" - -Winter hesitated. "Frankly, I don't know." - -I saw it was time to try a new angle of attack. "Where are we going?" - -"We are presently operating along coordinates zero-zero-zero, -zero-zero-six, zero-ninety-two." - -"What is our destination? What place?" - -"Stockholm Zero Zero, after which you'll probably be transferred to -London Zero Zero for further processing." - -"What is the Zero business? Do you mean London, England?" - -"The London you refer to is London B-I Three." - -"What's the difference?" - -"London Zero Zero is the capital of the Imperium, comprising the major -portion of the civilized world--North Europe, West Hemisphere, and -Australia." - -I changed the subject. "Why did you kidnap me?" - -"A routine interrogational arrest, insofar as I know." - -"Do you intend to release me?" - -"Yes." - -"At home?" - -"No." - -"Where?" - -"I can't say; at one of several concentration points." - -"One more question," I said, easing the automatic from my pocket and -pointing it at the third medal from the left. "Do you know what this is? - -"Keep your hands in sight; better get up and stand over there." - -Winter rose and moved over to the spot indicated. I'd never aimed a -pistol at a man point-blank before, but I felt no hesitation now. - -"Tell me all about it," I said. - -"I've answered every question," Winter said nervously. - -"And told me nothing." Winter stood staring at me. - -I slipped the safety off with a click. "You have five seconds to -start," I said. "One ... two...." - -"Very well," Winter said. "No need for all this; I'll try." He -hesitated. "You were selected from higher up. We went to a great deal -of trouble to get you in particular. As I've explained, that's rather -irregular. However," Winter seemed to be warming to his subject, "all -sampling in this region has been extremely restricted in the past; you -see, your continuum occupies an island, one of a very few isolated -lines in a vast blighted region. The entire configuration is abnormal, -and an extremely dangerous area in which to maneuver. We lost many -good men in early years before we learned how to handle the problems -involved." - -"I suppose you know this is all nonsense to me," I said. "What do you -mean by sampling?" - -"Do you mind if I smoke?" Winter said. I took a long brown cigarette -from a box on the desk, lit it, and handed it to him. "Sampling refers -to the collection of individuals or artifacts from representative B-I -lines," he said, blowing out smoke. "We in Intelligence are engaged now -in mapping operations. It's fascinating work, old boy, picking up the -trend lines, coordinating findings with theoretical work, developing -accurate calibrating devices, instruments, and so on. We're just -beginning to discover the potentialities of working the Net. In order -to gather maximum information in a short time, we've found it expedient -to collect individuals for interrogation. In this way we quickly gain a -general picture of the configuration of the Net in various directions. -In your case, I was directed under sealed orders to enter the Blight, -proceed to Blight-Insular Three, and take over custody of Mr. Brion -Bayard, a diplomat representing, of all things, an American republic." -Winter spoke enthusiastically now. As he relaxed, he seemed younger. - -"It was quite a feather in my cap, old chap, to be selected to conduct -an operation in the Blight, and I've found it fascinating. Always in -the past, of course, I've operated at such a distance from the Imperium -that little or no analogy existed. But B-I Three! Why it's practically -the Imperium, with just enough variation to stir the imagination. Close -as the two lines are, there's a desert of Blight around and between -them that indicates how frightfully close to the rim we've trodden in -times past." - -"All right, Winter. I've heard enough," I said. "You're just a harmless -nut, maybe. But I'll be going now." - -"That's quite impossible," Winter said. "We're in the midst of the -Blight." - -"What's the Blight?" I asked, making conversation as I looked around -the room, trying to pick out the best door to leave by. There were -three. I decided on the one no one had come through yet. I moved -towards it. - -"The Blight is a region of utter desolation, radiation, and chaos," -Winter was saying. "There are whole ranges of A-lines where the very -planet no longer exists, where automatic cameras have recorded nothing -but a vast ring of debris in orbit; then there are the cinder-worlds, -and here and there dismal groups of cancerous jungles, alive with -radiation-poisoned mutations. It's frightful, old chap. You can wave -the pistol at me all night, but it will get you nothing. In a few hours -we'll arrive at Zero Zero; you may as well relax until then." - -I tried the door, it was locked. "Where's the key?" I said. - -"There's no key. It will open automatically at the base." - -I went to one of the other doors, the one the man with the box had -entered through. I pulled it open and glanced out. The humming sound -was louder and down a short and narrow corridor I saw what appeared to -be a pilot's compartment. A man's back was visible. - -"Come on, Winter," I said. "Go ahead of me." - -"Don't be a complete ass, old boy," Winter said, looking irritated. He -turned toward his desk. I raised the pistol. The shot boomed inside -the walls of the room, and Winter leaped back from the desk holding -a ripped hand. He whirled on me, for the first time looking really -scared. "You're insane," he shouted. "I've told you we're in the midst -of the Blight." - -I was keeping one eye on the man up front, who was looking over his -shoulder while frantically doing something with his other hand. - -"You're leaking all over that nice rug," I said. "I'm going to kill you -with the next one. Stop this machine." - -Winter was pale; he swallowed convulsively. "I swear, Mr. Bayard, -that's utterly impossible. I'd rather you shoot me. You have no -conception of what you're suggesting." - -I saw now that I was in the hands of a dangerous lunatic. I believed -Winter when he said he'd rather die than stop this bus--or whatever -it was. In spite of my threat, I couldn't shoot him in cold blood. I -turned and took three steps up the passage and poked the automatic into -the small of the back that showed there. - -"Cut the switch," I said. The man, who was one of the two who had been -standing by when I awoke in the office, continued to twist frantically -at a knob on the panel before him. He glanced at me, but kept on -twiddling. I raised the pistol and fired a shot into the instrument -panel. The man jumped convulsively, and threw himself forward, -protecting the panel with his body. - -"Stop, you bloody fool," he shouted. "Let us explain!" - -"I tried that," I said. "It didn't work. Get out of my way. I'm -bringing this wagon to a halt one way or another." - -I stood so that I could see both men. Winter half crouched in the -doorway, face white. "Are we all right, Doyle?" he called in a strained -voice. Doyle eased away from the panel, turned his back to me, and -glanced over the instruments. He flipped a toggle, cursed, and turned -back to face Winter. - -"Communicator dead," he said. "But we're still in operation." - -I hesitated now. These two were genuinely terrified of the idea of -stopping; they had paid as little attention to me and my noisy gun as -one would to a kid with a water pistol. Compared to stopping, a bullet -was apparently a trifling irritation. - -It was also obvious that this was no moving van. The pilot's -compartment had more instruments than an airliner, and no windows. -Elaborate ideas began to run through my mind. Space ship? Time -machine? What the devil had I gotten into? - -"All right, Winter," I said. "Let's call a truce. I'll give you five -minutes to give me a satisfactory explanation, prove you're not an -escapee from the violent ward, and tell me how you're going to go about -setting me down right back where you found me. If you can't or won't -cooperate, I'll fill that panel full of holes--including anybody who -happens to be standing in front of it." - -"Yes," Winter said. "I swear I'll do all I can. Just come away from the -control compartment." - -"I'll stay right here," I said. "I won't jump the gun unless you give -me a reason, like holding your mouth wrong." - -Winter was sweating. "This is a scouting machine, operating in the Net. -By the Net, I mean the complex of Alternative lines which constitute -the matrix of all simultaneous reality. Our drive is the Maxoni-Cocini -field generator, which creates a force operating at what one might call -a perpendicular to normal entropy. Actually, I know little about the -physics of the mechanism; I am not a technician." - -I looked at my watch. Winter got the idea. "The Imperium is the -government of the Zero Zero A-line in which this discovery was made. -The device is an extremely complex one, and there are a thousand ways -in which it can cause disaster to its operators if a mistake is made. -Judging from the fact that every A-line within thousands of parameters -of Zero Zero is a scene of the most fearful carnage, we surmise that -our line alone was successful in controlling the force. We conduct our -operations in all of that column of A-space lying outside the Blight, -as we term this area of destruction. The Blight itself we ordinarily -avoid completely." - -Winter wrapped a handkerchief around his bleeding hand as he talked. - -"Your line, known as Blight-Insular Three, or B-I Three, is one of -two exceptions we know to the general destruction. These two lines -lie at some distance from Zero Zero, yours a bit closer than B-I Two. -B-I Three was discovered only a month or so ago, and just recently -confirmed as a safe line. All this exploratory work in the Blight was -done by drone scouts, unmanned. - -"Why I was directed to pick you up, I don't know. But believe me when I -say that if you succeed in crippling this scout, you'll precipitate us -into identity with an A-line which might be nothing more than a ring of -radioactive dust around the sun, or a great mass of mutated fungus. We -cannot stop now for any reason until we reach a safe area." - -I looked at my watch again. "Four minutes," I said. "Prove what you've -been telling me." - -Winter licked his lips. "Doyle, get the recon photos of this sector, -the ones we made on the way in." - -Doyle reached across to a compartment under the panel and brought out a -large red envelope. He handed it to me. I passed it to Winter. - -"Open it," I said. "Let's see what you've got." - -Winter fumbled a moment, then slipped a stack of glossy prints out. He -handed me the first one. "All these photos were made from precisely the -same spatial and temporal coordinates as those occupied by the scout. -The only difference is the Web coordinates." - -The print showed an array of ragged fragments of rock hanging against -a backdrop of foggy grey, with a few bright points gleaming through. I -didn't know what it was intended to represent. - -He handed me another; it was similar. So was the third, with the added -detail that one rock fragment had a smooth side, with tiny lines across -it, Winter spoke up. "The scale is not what it appears; that odd bit is -a portion of the earth's crust, about twenty miles from the camera; the -lines are roads." I stared, fascinated. Beyond the strangely scribed -fragment, other jagged pieces ranged away to the limit of sight, and -beyond. My imagination reeled at the idea that perhaps Winter was -telling me the literal truth. - -Winter passed over another shot. This one showed a lumpy black -expanse, visible only by the murky gleam of light reflected by the -irregularities in the surface in the direction of the moon, which -showed as a brilliant disc in the black sky. - -The next was half-obscured by a mass which loomed across the lens, -too close for focus. Beyond, a huge sprawling bulk, shapeless, gross, -immense, lay half-buried in tangled vines. I stared horrified at -the tiny cowlike head which lolled uselessly on the slope of the -mountainous creature. Some distance away a distended leglike appendage -projected, the hoof dangling. - -"Yes," Winter said. "It's a cow. A mutated cow which no longer has -any limitation on its growth. It's a vast tissue culture, absorbing -nourishment direct from the vines. They grow all through the mass of -flesh. The rudimentary head and occasional limbs are quite useless." -I pushed the pictures back at him. I was sick. "I've seen enough," I -said. "You've sold me. Let's get out of this." I pushed the pistol into -my pocket. I thought of the bullet hole in the panel and shuddered. - - * * * * * - -Back in the office, I sat down at the desk. Winter spoke up again. -"It's a very unnerving thing, old chap, to have it shown to you all at -once that way." - -Winter went on talking while I tried to assemble his fragmentary -information into a coherent picture. A vast spider web of lines, each -one a complete universe, each minutely different from all the others; -somewhere, a line, or world, in which a device had been developed that -enabled a man to move across the lines. Well, why not, I thought. With -all those lines to work with, everything was bound to happen in one of -them; or was it? - -"How about all the other A-lines, Winter," I said at the thought, -"where this same discovery must have been made, where there was only -some unimportant difference. Why aren't you swarming all over each -other, bumping into yourself?" - -"That's been a big question to our scientists, old chap, and they -haven't yet come up with any definitive answers. However, there -are a few established points. First, the thing is a fantastically -delicate device, as I've explained. The tiniest slip in the initial -experimentation, and we'd have ended like some of those other lines -you've seen photos of. Apparently the odds were quite fantastically -against our escaping the consequences of the discovery; still, we did, -and now we know how to control it. - -"As to the very close lines, theory now seems to indicate that there -is no actual physical separation between lines; those microscopically -close to one another actually merge or blend. It's difficult to -explain. One actually wanders from one to another, at random, you know. -In fact, such is the curious nature of infinity, that there seem to be -an infinite number of infinitely close lines we're constantly shifting -about in. Usually this makes no difference; we don't notice it, any -more than we're aware of hopping along from one temporal point to the -next as normal entropy progresses." - -At my puzzled frown he added, "The lines run both ways, you know, in an -infinite number of directions. If we could run straight back along the -normal E-line, we'd be travelling into the past. This won't work, for -practical reasons involving two bodies occupying the same space, and -all that sort of thing. The Maxoni principle enables us to move in a -manner which we think of as being at right angles to the normal drift. -With it, we can operate through 360 degrees, but always at the same -E-level at which we start. Thus, we will arrive at Stockholm Zero Zero -at the same moment we departed from B-I Three." Winter laughed. "This -detail caused no end of misunderstanding and counter-accusation on the -first trials." - -"So we're all shifting from one universe to another all the time -without knowing it," I said skeptically. - -"Not necessarily all of us, not all the time," Winter said. "But -emotional stress seems to have the effect of displacing one. Of course -with the relative positions of two grains of sand, or even of two atoms -within a grain of sand being the only difference between two adjacent -lines, you'd not be likely to notice. But at times greater slips occur -with most individuals. Perhaps you yourself have noticed some tiny -discrepancy at one time or another; some article apparently moved or -lost; some sudden change in the character of someone you know; false -recollections of past events. The universe isn't all as rigid as one -might like to believe." - -"You're being awfully plausible, Winter," I said. "Let's pretend I -accept your story. Now tell me about this vehicle." - -"Just a small mobile MC station, mounted on an auto-propelled chassis. -It can move about on level ground or paved areas, and also in calm -water. It enables us to do most of our spatial maneuvering on our own -ground, so to speak, and avoid the hazards of attempting to conduct -ground operations in strange areas." - -"Where are the rest of the men in your party?" I asked. "There are at -least three more of you." - -"They're all at their assigned posts," Winter said. "There's another -small room containing the drive mechanism forward of the control -compartment." - -"What's this stuff for?" I indicated the box on the desk from which I'd -gotten the gun. - -Winter looked at it, then said ruefully, "So that's where you -acquired the weapon. I knew you'd been searched. Damned careless of -Doyle--bloody souvenir hunter! I told him to submit everything to -me for approval before we returned, so I suppose it's my fault." He -touched his aching hand tenderly. - -"Don't feel too bad about it. I'm just a clever guy," I said. "However, -I'm not very brave. As a matter of fact, I'm scared to death of what's -in store for me when we arrive at our destination." - -"You'll be well treated, Mr. Bayard," Winter assured me. I let that -one pass. Maybe when we arrived, I could come out shooting, making an -escape. That line of thought didn't seem very encouraging either. What -would I do next, loose in this Imperium of Winter's? What I needed was -a return ticket home. I found myself thinking of it as B-I Three, and -realized I was beginning to accept Winter's story. I took a drink from -the blue bottle. - -"Why don't we explode when we pass through one of those empty-space -lines, or burn in the hot ones?" I asked suddenly. "Suppose we found -ourselves peeking out from inside one of those hunks of rock you were -photographing?" - -"We don't linger about long enough, old boy," Winter said. "We remain -in any one line for no finite length of time, therefore there's no time -for us to react physically to our surroundings." - -"How can you take pictures and use communicators?" - -"The camera remains inside the field. The photo is actually a -composite exposure of all the lines we cross during the instant of the -exposure. The lines differ hardly at all, of course, and the prints -are quite clear. Light, of course, is a condition, not an event. Our -communicators employ a sort of grating which spreads the transmission." - -"Winter," I said, "this is all extremely interesting, but I get the -impression that you have small regard for a man's comfort. I think you -might be planning to use me in some sort of colorful experiment, and -then throw me away--toss me out into one of those cosmic junk heaps -you showed me. And that stuff in the blue bottle isn't quite soothing -enough to drive the idea out of my mind." - -"Great heavens, old boy!" Winter sat bolt upright. "Nothing of that -sort, I can assure you. Why, we're not blasted barbarians! Since you -are an object of official interest of the Imperium, you can be assured -of humane and honorable treatment." - -"I didn't like what you said about concentration points a while back. -That sounds like jail to me." - -"Not at all," Winter expostulated. "There are a vast number of very -pleasant A-lines well outside the Blight which are either completely -uninhabited, or are occupied by backward or underdeveloped peoples. One -can well nigh select the technological and cultural level in which one -would like to live. All interrogation subjects are most scrupulously -provided for; they're supplied with everything necessary to live in -comfort for the remainder of their normal lives." - -"Marooned on a desert island, or parked in a native village? That -doesn't sound too jolly to me," I said. "I'd rather be at home." - -Winter smiled speculatively. "What would you say to being set up with -a fortune in gold, and placed in a society closely resembling that of, -say, England in the seventeenth century with the added advantage that -you'd have electricity, plenty of modern literature, supplies for a -lifetime, whatever you wished. You must remember that we have all the -resources of the universe to draw upon." - -"I'd like it better if I had a little more choice," I said. - -"Suppose we keep right on going, once we're clear of the Blight," I -said. "That reception committee wouldn't be waiting then. You could run -this buggy back to B-I Three. I could force you." - -"See here, Bayard," Winter said impatiently. "You have a gun. Very -well, shoot me; shoot all of us. What would that gain you? The -operation of this machine requires a very high technical skill. The -controls are set for automatic return to the starting point. It is -absolutely against Imperium policy to return a subject to the line from -which he was taken. The only thing for you to do is cooperate with -us, and you have my assurance as an Imperial officer that you will be -treated honorably." - -I looked at the gun. "According to the movies," I said, "the fellow -with the rod always gets his own way. But you don't seem to care -whether I shoot you or not." - -Winter smiled. "Aside from the fact that you've had quite a few -draughts from my brandy flask and probably couldn't hit the wall with -that weapon you're holding, I assure...." - -"You're always assuring me," I said. I tossed the pistol onto the desk. -I put my feet up on the polished top, and leaned back in the chair. -"Wake me up when we get there. I'll want to fix my face." - -Winter laughed. "Now you're being reasonable, old boy. It would be -damned embarrassing for me to have to warn the personnel at base that -you were waving a pistol about." - - - - - Chapter 3 - - -I woke up with a start. My neck ached abominably; so did the rest of -me, as soon as I moved. I groaned, dragged my feet down off the desk, -and sat up. There was something wrong. Winter was gone and the humming -had stopped. I jumped up. - -"Winter," I shouted. I had a vivid picture of myself marooned in one of -those hell-worlds. At that moment I realized I wasn't half as afraid of -arriving at Zero Zero as I was of not getting there. - -Winter pushed the door open and glanced in. "I'll be with you in a -moment, Mr. Bayard," he said. "We've arrived on schedule." - -I was nervous. The gun was gone. I told myself it was no worse than -going to one of the ambassador's receptions. My best bet was to walk in -as though I'd thought of it myself. - -The two bouncers came in, followed by Winter. One of the two men pushed -the door open, and stood at attention beside it. Beyond the opening I -could see muted sunshine on a level paved surface, and a group of men -in white uniforms, looking in our direction. - -I stepped down through the door and looked around. We were in a large -shed, looking something like a railroad station. A group of men in -white uniforms were waiting. - -One of them stepped forward. "By Jove, Winter," he said. "You've -brought it off. Congratulations, old man." The others came up, gathered -around Winter, asking questions, turning to stare at me. None of them -said anything to me. To hell with them, I thought. I turned and started -strolling toward the front of the shed. There was one door with a -sentry box arrangement beside it. I gave the man on duty a glance and -started past. - -"You'd better memorize this face," I said coolly. "You'll be seeing a -great deal of it from now on. I'm your new commander." I looked him up -and down. "Your uniform is in need of attention." I turned and went on. - -Winter appeared at that point, putting an end to what would have been a -very neat escape. But where the hell would I have gone? - -"Here, old man," he said. "Don't go wandering about. I'm to take you -directly to Royal Intelligence, where you'll doubtless find out a bit -more about the reasons for your, ah--" Winter cleared his throat, -"visit." - -"I thought it was Imperial Intelligence," I said. "And for the high -level operation this is supposed to be, this is a remarkably modest -reception. I thought there would be a band, or at least a couple of -cops with handcuffs." - -"Royal Swedish Intelligence," Winter explained briskly. "Sweden will -bring tributary to the Emperor, of course. Imperial Intelligence chaps -will be on hand. As for your reception, we don't believe in making much -fuss, you know." Winter waved me into a boxy black staff car which -waited at the curb. It swung out at once into light traffic which -pulled out of our way as we rode down the center of the broad avenue. - -"I thought your scout just travelled cross-ways," I said, "and stayed -in the same spot on the map. This doesn't look like the hilly area of -the Old Town." - -"You have a suspicious mind and an eye for detail," Winter said. "We -maneuvered the scout through the streets to the position of the ramps -before going into drive. We're on the north side of the city now." - -Our giant car roared across a bridge, and swirled into a long gravel -drive leading to a wrought-iron gate before a massive grey granite -building. The people I saw looked perfectly ordinary, with the -exception of a few oddities of dress and an unusually large number of -gaudy uniforms. The guard at the iron gate was wearing a cherry-colored -tunic, white trousers, and a black steel helmet surmounted by a gold -spike and a deep purple plume. He presented arms--a short and wicked -looking nickel-plated machine gun--and as the gate swung wide we eased -past him and stopped before broad doors of polished iron-bound oak. A -brass plate beside the entrance said Kungliga Svenska Spionage. - -I said nothing as we walked down a spotless white marble-floored hall, -entered a spacious elevator, and rode up to the top floor. We walked -along another hall, this one paved with red granite, and paused before -a large door at the end. There was no one else around. - -"Just relax, Mr. Bayard. Answer all questions fully, and use the same -forms of address as I do." - -"I'll try not to fall down," I said. Winter looked as nervous as I felt -as he opened the door after a polite tap. - -The room was an office, large and handsomely furnished. Across a wide -expanse of grey rug three men sat around a broad desk, behind which -sat a fourth. Winter closed the door, walked across the room with me -trailing behind him, and came to a rigid position of attention ten feet -from the desk. His arms swung up in a real elbow-buster of a salute and -held it. - -"Sir, Chief Captain Winter reports as ordered," he said in a strained -voice. - -"Very good, Winter," said the man behind the desk, sketching a salute -casually. Winter brought his arm down with a snap. He rotated rigidly -toward the others. - -"_Kaiserliche Hochheit_," he said, bowing stiffly from the waist at -one of the seated figures. "Chief Inspector," he greeted the second, -while the third, a rather paunchy fellow with a jolly expression and a -somehow familiar face, rated just "Sir." - -"'_Hochwelgeboren_' will do," murmured the lean aristocratic-looking -one whom Winter had addressed first. Apparently instead of an imperial -highness he was only a high-well-born. Winter turned bright pink. -"I beg your Excellency's pardon," he said in a choked voice. The -round-faced man grinned broadly. - -The man behind the desk had been studying me intently during this -exchange. "Please be seated, Mr. Bayard," he said pleasantly, -indicating an empty chair directly in front of the desk. Winter was -still standing rigidly. The man glanced at him. "Stand at ease, Chief -Captain," he said in a dry tone, turning back to me. - -"I hope that your being brought here has not prejudiced you against us -unduly, Mr. Bayard," he said. He had a long gaunt face with a heavy jaw. - -"I am General Bernadotte," he went on. "These gentlemen are the Friherr -von Richthofen, Chief Inspector Bale, and Mr. Goering." I nodded at -them. Bale was a thin broad-shouldered man with a small bald head. He -wore an expression of disapproval. - -Bernadotte went on. "I would like first to assure you that our decision -to bring you here was not made lightly. I know that you have many -questions, and all will be answered fully. For the present, I shall -tell you frankly that we have called you here to ask for your help." - -I hadn't been prepared for this. I don't know what I expected, but to -have this panel of high-powered brass asking for my puny assistance -left me opening and closing my mouth without managing to say anything. - -"It's remarkable," commented the paunchy civilian. I looked at him. -Winter had called him Mr. Goering. I thought of pictures of Hitler's -gross Air Chief. - -"Not Hermann Goering?" I said. - -The fat man looked surprised, and a smile spread across his face. - -"Yes, my name is Hermann," he said. "How did you know this?" He had a -fairly heavy German accent. - -I found it hard to explain. This was something I hadn't thought -of--actual doubles or analogs of figures in my own world. Now I knew -beyond a doubt that Winter had not been lying to me. - -"Back where I came from, everyone knows your name," I said. -"Reichmarshall Goering...." - -"Reichmarshall!" Goering repeated. "What an intriguing title!" -He looked around at the others. "Is this not a most interesting -and magnificent information?" He beamed. "I, poor fat Hermann, a -Reichmarshall, and known to all." He was delighted. - -"Multi-phased reality is, of course, rather a shocking thing to -encounter suddenly," the general said, "after a lifetime of living in -one's own narrow world. To those of us who have grown up with it, it -seems only natural and in keeping with the principles of multiplicity -and the continuum. The idea of a monolinear casual sequence is seen to -be an artificially restrictive conception, an oversimplification of -reality growing out of human egotism." - -The other four men listened as attentively as I. It was very quiet, -with only the occasional faint sounds of traffic from the street below. - -"Insofar as we have been able to determine thus far from our studies of -the B-I Three line, from which you come, our two lines share a common -history up to about the year 1790. They remain parallel in many ways -for about another century; thereafter they diverge rather sharply. - -"Here in our world, two Italian scientists, Giulio Maxoni and Carlo -Cocini, in the year 1893, made a basic discovery, which, after several -years of study, they embodied in a device which enabled them to move -about at will through a wide range of what we now term Alternative -lines, or A-lines. - -"Cocini lost his life in an early exploratory test, and Maxoni -determined to offer the machine to the Italian government. He was -rudely rebuffed. - -"After several years of harassment by the Italian press, which -ridiculed him unmercifully, Maxoni went to England, and offered his -invention to the British government. There was a long and very cautious -period of negotiation, but eventually a bargain was struck. Maxoni -received a title, estates, and one million pounds in gold. He died a -year later. - -"The British government now had sole control of the most important -basic human discovery since the wheel. The wheel gave man the power to -move easily across the surface of his world; the Maxoni principle gave -him all the worlds to move about in." - -Leather creaked faintly as I moved in my chair. The general leaned back -and drew a deep breath. He smiled. - -"I hope that I am not overwhelming you with an excess of historical -detail, Mr. Bayard." - -"Not at all," I replied. "I'm very much interested." - -He went on. "At that time the British government was negotiating with -the Imperial Germanic government in an effort to establish workable -trade agreements, and avoid a fratricidal war, which then appeared to -be inevitable if appropriate spheres of influence were not agreed upon. - -"The acquisition of the Maxoni papers placed a different complexion -on the situation. Rightfully feeling that they now had a considerably -more favorable position from which to negotiate, the British suggested -an amalgamation of the two empires into the present Anglo-Germanic -Imperium, with the House of Hanover-Windsor occupying the Imperial -throne. Sweden signed the Concord shortly thereafter, and after the -resolution of a number of differences in detail, the Imperium came into -being on January 1, 1900." - -I had the feeling the general was over-simplifying things. I wondered -how many people had been killed in the process of resolving the minor -details. I kept the thought to myself. - -"Since its inception," the general continued, "the Imperium has -conducted a program of exploration, charting, and study of the -A-continuum. It was quickly determined that for a vast distance on -all sides of the home line, utter desolation existed; outside that -lighted region, however, were the infinite resources of countless -lines. Those lines lying just outside the Blight seem uniformly to -represent a divergence point at about 400 years in the past; that is -to say, our common histories differentiate about the year 1550. As one -travels further out, the divergence date recedes. At the limits of our -explorations to date the CH dated is about 1,000,000 B.C." - -I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing. This seemed to be all -right with Bernadotte. - -"Then, in 1947, examination of photos made by automatic camera scouts -revealed an anomaly; an apparently normal, inhabited world, lying well -within the Blight. It took weeks of careful searching to pinpoint the -line. For the first time, we were visiting a world closely analogous to -our own, in which many of the institutions of our own world should be -duplicated. - -"We had hopes of a fruitful liaison between the two worlds, but in this -we were bitterly disappointed." - -The general turned to the bald man whom he had introduced as Chief -Inspector Bale. - -"Chief Inspector," he said, "will you take up the account at this -point?" - -Bale sat up in his chair, folded his hands, and began. - -"In September 1948 two senior agents of Imperial Intelligence were -dispatched with temporary rank of Career Minister and full diplomatic -accreditization, to negotiate an agreement with the leaders of the -National People's State. This political unit actually embraces most of -the inhabitable world of the B-I Two line. A series of frightful wars, -employing some sort of radioactive explosives, had destroyed the better -part of civilization. - -"Europe was a shambles. We found that the NPS headquarters was in North -Africa, and had as its nucleus the former French colonial government -there. The top man was a ruthless ex-soldier who had established -himself as uncontested dictator of what remained of things. His army -was made up of units of all the previous combatants, held together by -the promise of free lotting and top position in a new society based on -raw force. - -"Our agents approached a military sub-chief, calling himself -Colonel-General Yang, in charge of a ragtag mob of ruffians in motley -uniforms, and asked to be conducted to the headquarters of the -dictator. Yang had them clapped into a cell and beaten insensible in -spite of their presentation of diplomatic passports and identity cards. - -"He did however send them along to the dictator to have an interview. -During the talk, the fellow drew a pistol and shot one of my two chaps -through the head, killing him instantly. When this failed to make the -other volunteer anything further than that he was an accredited envoy -of the Imperial government requesting an _exequatur_ and appropriate -treatment, prior to negotiating an international agreement, he was -turned over to experienced torturers. - -"Under torture, the agent gave out just enough to convince his -interrogators that he was insane; he was released to starve or die of -wounds. We managed to spot him and pick him up in time to get the story -before he died." - -I still had no comment to make. It didn't sound pretty, but then I -wasn't too enthusiastic about the methods employed by the Imperium -either. The general resumed the story. - -"We resolved to make no attempt at punitive action, but simply to leave -this unfortunate line in isolation. - -"About a year ago, an event occurred which rendered this policy no -longer tenable." Bernadotte turned to the lean-faced man. - -"Manfred, I will ask you to cover this part of the briefing." - -"Units of our Net Surveillance Service detected activity at a point -some distance within the area called Sector 92," Richthofen began. -"This was a contingency against which we had been on guard from the -first. A heavily armed MC unit of unknown origin had dropped into -identity with one of our most prized industrial lines, one of a group -with which we conduct a multi-billion pound trade. The intruder -materialized in a population center, and released virulent poisonous -gases, killing hundreds. Masked troops then emerged, only a platoon -or two of them, and proceeded to strip bodies, loot shops--an orgy -of wanton destruction. Our NSS scout arrived some hours after the -attackers had departed. The scout, in turn, was subjected to a heavy -attack by the justifiably aroused inhabitants of the area before it was -able to properly identify itself as an Imperium vessel." - -Richthofen had a disdainful frown on his face. "I personally conducted -the rescue and salvage operation; over four hundred innocent civilians -dead, valuable manufacturing facilities destroyed by fire, production -lines disrupted, the population entirely demoralized. A bitter -spectacle for us." - -"You see, Mr. Bayard," Bernadotte said, "we are well nigh helpless to -protect our friends against such forays. Although we have developed -extremely effective MC field detection devices, the difficulty of -reaching the scene of an attack in time is practically insurmountable. -The actual transit takes no time, but locating the precise line -among numerous others is an extremely delicate operation. Our homing -devices make it possible, but only after we have made a very close -approximation manually." - -"In quick succession thereafter," Richthofen continued, "we suffered -seven similar raids. Then the pattern changed. The raiders began -appearing in numbers, with large cargo-carrying units. They also set -about rounding up all the young women at each raid, and taking them -along into captivity. It became obvious that a major threat to the -Imperium had come into existence. - -"At last we had the good fortune to detect a raider's field in the -close vicinity of one of our armed scouts. It quickly dropped in on a -converging course, and located the pirate about twenty minutes after -it had launched its attack. The commander of the scout quite properly -opened up at once with high explosive cannon and blew the enemy to -rubble. Its crew, although demoralized by the loss of their vessel, -nevertheless resisted capture almost to the last man. We were able to -secure only two prisoners for interrogation." - -I wondered how the Imperium's method of interrogation compared with -those of the dictator of B-I Two, but I didn't ask. I might find out -soon enough. - -"We learned a great deal more than we expected from our prisoners. They -were the talkative, boastful type. The effectiveness of the raiding -parties depended on their striking unexpectedly and departing quickly. -The number of pirate vessels was placed at no more than four, each -manned by about fifty men. They boasted of a great weapon held in -reserve, and which would be used to avenge them. It was apparent from -the remarks of the prisoners that they had not had the MC drive long, -and that they knew nothing of the configuration of the Net, or of the -endless ramifications of simultaneous reality. - -"They seemed to think their fellows would find our base and destroy it -with ease. They also had only a vague idea of the extent and nature of -the Blight. They mentioned that several of their ships had disappeared, -doubtless into that region. It appears also, happily for us, that they -have only the most elementary detection devices and that their controls -are erratic in the extreme. But the information of real importance was -the identity of the raiders." - -Richthofen paused for dramatic effect. "It was our unhappy sister -world, B-I Two." - -"Somehow," Bernadotte took up the story, "in spite of their condition -of chaotic social disorder and their destructive wars, they had -succeeded in harnessing the MC principle. Their apparatus is even more -primitive than that with which we began almost sixty years ago; yet -they have escaped disaster. - -"The next move came with startling suddenness. Whether by virtue of an -astonishingly rapid scientific development, or by sheer persistence and -blind luck, one of their scouts succeeded, last month, in locating the -Zero Zero line of the Imperium itself. The vessel dropped into identity -with our continuum on the outskirts of the city of Berlin, one of the -royal capitals. - -"The crew had apparently been prepared for their visit. They planted -a strange device atop a flimsy tower in a field, and embarked -instantly. Within a matter of three minutes, as well as we have been -able to determine, the device detonated with unbelievable force. -Over a square mile was absolutely desolated; casualties ran into the -thousands. And the entire area still remains poisoned with some form of -radiation-producing debris which renders the region uninhabitable." - -I nodded. "I think I understand," I said. - -"Yes," the general said, "you have something of this sort in your B-I -Three world also, do you not?" - -I assumed the question was rhetorical and said nothing. - -Bernadotte continued. "Crude though their methods are, they have -succeeded already in flaunting the Imperium. It is only a matter of -time, we feel, before they develop adequate controls and detection -devices. We will then be faced with the prospect of hordes of ragged -but efficient soldiers, armed with the frightful radium bombs with -which they destroyed their own culture, descending on the mother world -of the Imperium. - -"This eventuality is one for which it has been necessary to make -preparation. There seemed to be two possibilities, both equally -undesirable. We could await further attack, meanwhile readying our -defenses, of doubtful value against the fantastic explosives of the -enemy; or we could ourselves mount an offensive, launching a massive -invasion force against B-I Two. The logistics problems involved in -either plan would be unbelievably complex." - -I was learning a few things about the Imperium. In the first place, -they did not have the atomic bomb, and had no conception of its power. -Their consideration of war against an organized military force armed -with atomics was proof of that. Also, not having had the harsh lessons -of two major wars to assist them, they were naive, almost backward, in -some ways. They thought more like Europeans of the nineteenth century -than modern westerners. - -"About one month ago, Mr. Bayard," Bale took over, "a new factor was -introduced, giving us a third possibility. In the heart of the Blight, -at only a very little distance from B-I Two, and even closer to us than -it, we found a second surviving line. That line was of course your home -world, designated Blight-Insular Three. - -"Within seventy-two hours one hundred and fifty special agents had been -placed at carefully scouted positions in B-I Three. We were determined -to make no blunders; too much was at stake. As the information flowed -in from our men, all of whom, being top agents, had succeeded in -establishing their cover identities without difficulty, it was -immediately passed to the General Staff and to the Imperial Emergency -Cabinet for study. The two bodies remained in constant session for over -a week without developing any adequate scheme for handling the new -factor. - -"One committee of the Emergency Cabinet was assigned the important -task of determining as closely as possible the precise CH relationship -of B-I Three with both B-I Two and the Imperium. This is an extremely -tricky chore as it is quite possible for an amazing parallelism to -exist in one phase of an A-line while the most fantastic variants crop -up in another. - -"One week ago today the committee reported findings they considered to -be ninety-eight per cent reliable. Your B-I Three line shared history -of the B-I Two until the date 1911, probably early in the year. At -that point, my colleague, Mr. Goering, of German Intelligence, who had -been sitting in on the meeting, made a brilliant contribution. His -suggestion was immediately adopted. All agents were alerted at once to -drop all other lines of inquiry and concentrate on picking up a trace -of--" Bale looked at me. - -"Mr. Brion Bayard." - -They knew I was on the verge of exploding from pure curiosity, so I -just sat and looked back at Bale. He pursed his lips. He sure as hell -didn't like me. - -"We picked you up from records at your university--" Bale frowned at -me. "Something like aluminium alloy...." - -Bale must be an Oxford man, I thought. - -"Illinois," I said. - -"At any rate," Bale went on, "it was a relatively simple matter -to follow you up then through your military service and into your -Diplomatic Service. Our man just missed you at your Legation at -Viat-Kai." - -"Consulate General," I corrected. - -It annoyed Bale. I was glad; I didn't like him much either. - -"You had left the post the preceding day and were proceeding to your -headquarters via Stockholm. We had a man on the spot; he kept tabs on -you until the shuttle could arrive. The rest you know." - -There was a lengthening silence. I shifted in my chair, looking from -one expressionless face to another. - -"All right," I said. "It seems I'm supposed to ask, so I'll oblige, -just to speed things along. Why me?" - -Almost hesitantly General Bernadotte opened a drawer of the desk and -drew out a flat object wrapped in brown paper. He removed the paper -very deliberately as he spoke. - -"I have here an official portrait of the dictator of the world of -Blight-Insular Two," he said. "One of the two artifacts we have been -able to bring along from that unhappy region. Copies of this picture -are posted everywhere there." - -He passed it over to me. It was a crude lithograph, in color, showing -a man in uniform, the chest as far down as the picture extended -covered with medals. Beneath the portrait was the legend: "His Martial -Excellency, Duke of Algiers, Warlord of the Combined Forces, Marshal -General of the State, Brion The First Bayard, Dictator." - -The picture was of me. - - - - - Chapter 4 - - -I stared at the garish portrait for a long time. It wasn't registering; -I had a feeling of disorientation. There was too much to absorb. - -"Now you will understand, Mr. Bayard, why we have brought you here," -the general said, as I silently handed the picture back to him. "You -represent our hidden ace. But only if you consent to help us of your -own free will." He turned to Richthofen again. - -"Manfred, will you outline our plan to Mr. Bayard?" - -Richthofen cleared his throat. "Quite possibly," he said, "we -could succeed in disposing of the Dictator Bayard by bombing his -headquarters. This, however, would merely create a temporary diversion -until a new leader emerged. The organization of the enemy seems to be -such that no more than a very brief respite would be gained, if any at -all, before the attacks would be resumed; and we are not prepared to -sustain such onslaughts as these. - -"No, it is far better for our purpose that Bayard remain the leader of -the National People's State--and that we control him." Here he looked -intently at me. - -"A specially equipped TNL scout, operated by our best pilot technician, -could plant a man within the private apartment which occupies the top -floor of the dictator's palace at Algiers. We believe that a resolute -man introduced into the palace in this manner, armed with the most -effective hand weapons at our disposal, could succeed in locating -and entering the dictator's sleeping chamber, assassinating him, and -disposing of the body. - -"If that man were you, Mr. Bayard, fortified by ten days' intensive -briefing and carrying a small net-communicator, we believe that you -could assume the identity of the dead man and rule as absolute dictator -over Bayard's twenty million fighting men." - -"Do I have another double here," I said, "in your Imperium?" - -Bernadotte shook his head. "No, you have remote cousins here, nothing -closer." - -They all watched me. I could see that all three of them expected me to -act solemn and modest at the honor, and set out to do or die for the -fatherland. They were overlooking a few things, though. This wasn't my -fatherland; I'd been kidnapped and brought here. And oddly enough, I -could not see myself murdering anybody--especially, I had the grotesque -thought--myself. I didn't even like the idea of being dropped down in -the midst of a pack of torturers. - -I was ready to tell them so in very definite terms, when my eye fell on -Bale. He was wearing a supercilious half-smile, and I could see that -this was just what he expected. His contempt for me was plain. I sensed -that he thought of me as the man who had killed his best agent in cold -blood, a cowardly blackguard. My mouth was open to speak; but under -that sneering expression, different words came out--temporizing words. -I wouldn't give Bale the satisfaction of being right. - -"And after I'm in charge of B-I Two, what then?" I said. - -"You will be in constant touch with Imperial Intelligence via -communicator," Richthofen said eagerly. "You'll receive detailed -instructions as to each move to make. We should be able to immobilize -B-I Two within six months. You'll then be returned here." - -"I won't be returned home?" - -"Mr. Bayard," Bernadotte said seriously, "you will never be able to -return to B-I Three. The Imperium will offer you any reward you wish -to name, except that. The consequences of revealing the existence of -the Imperium to your line at this time are far too serious to permit -consideration of the idea. However--" - -All eyes were on Bernadotte. He looked as though what he was about to -say was important. - -"I have been authorized by the Emergency Cabinet," he said with -gravity, "to offer you an Imperial commission in the rank of Major -General, Mr. Bayard. If you accept this commission, your first -assignment will be as we have outlined." Bernadotte handed a heavy -piece of parchment across the table to me. "You should know, Mr. -Bayard, that the Imperium does not award commissions, particularly that -of General Officer, lightly." - -"It will be a most unusual rank," Goering said, smiling. "Normally -there is no such rank in the Imperium Service; Lieutenant General, -Colonel General, Major General. You will be unique." - -"We adopted the rank from your own armed forces, as a special mark of -esteem, Mr. Bayard," Bernadotte said. "It is no less authentic for -being unusual." - -It was a fancy sheet of paper. The Imperium was prepared to pay off -well for this job they needed done--anything I wanted. And doubtless, -they thought the strange look on my face was greed at the thought of -a general's two stars. Well, let them think it. I didn't want to give -them any more information which might be used against me. - -"I'll think about it," I said. Bale looked disconcerted now. After -expecting me to back out, he had apparently then expected me to be -dazzled by the reward I was being offered. I'd let him worry about it. -Suddenly Bale bored me. - -Bernadotte hesitated. "I'm going to take an unprecedented step, Mr. -Bayard," he said. "For the present, on my personal initiative as head -of State, I'm confirming you as Colonel in the Royal Army of Sweden -without condition. I do this to show my personal confidence in you, -as well as for more practical reasons." He rose and smiled ruefully, -as though unsure of my reaction. "Congratulations, Colonel," he said, -holding out his hand. - -I stood up too. I noticed everyone had. - -"You must have twenty-four hours to consider your decision, Colonel," -he said. "I'll leave you in the excellent care of Graf von Richthofen -and Mr. Goering until then." - -Richthofen turned to Winter, still standing silently by. "Won't you -join us, Chief Captain," he said. - -"Delighted," Winter said. - -"Congratulations, old boy, er, Sir," Winter said as soon as we were in -the hall. "You made quite a hit with the general." He seemed quite his -jaunty self again. - -I eyed him. "You mean King Gustav?" I said. - -Winter blinked. "But how did you know?" he said. "I mean dash it, how -the devil did you know?" - -"But it must be," Goering said with enthusiasm, "that also he in your -home world is known, not so?" - -"That's right, Mr. Goering," I said, "now you've dispelled my aura of -mystery." - -Goering chuckled. "Please, Mr. Bayard, you must call me Hermann." He -gripped my arm in friendly fashion as we moved down the hall. "Now you -must tell us more about this intriguing world of yours." - -Richthofen spoke up. "I suggest we go along to my summer villa at -Drottningholm and enjoy a dinner and a couple of good vintages while we -hear all about your home, Mr. Bayard; and we shall tell you of ours." - - - - - Chapter 5 - - -I stood before a long mirror and eyed myself, not without approval. Two -tailors had been buzzing around me like bees for half an hour, putting -the finishing touches on their handiwork. I had to admit they had done -all right. - -I now wore narrow-cut riding breeches of fine grey whip-cord, short -black boots of meticulously stitched and polished black leather, a -white linen shirt without collar or cuffs beneath a mess jacket of -royal blue, buttoned to the chin. A gold bordered blue stripe ran down -the side of the trousers and heavy loops of gold braid ringed the -sleeves from wrist to elbow. A black leather belt with a large square -buckle bearing the Royal Swedish crest supported a jeweled scabbard -containing a slender rapier with an ornate hilt. - -In the proper position on the left side of the chest were, to my -astonishment, a perfectly accurate set of my World War II Service -medals and the Silver Star. On the shoulder straps, the bright silver -eagles of a U.S. Colonel gleamed. I was wearing the full dress uniform -of my new position in the Imperium society. - -I was glad now I hadn't let myself deteriorate into the flabby -ill-health of the average Foreign Service Officer, soft and pale -from long hours in offices and late hours of heavy drinking at the -interminable diplomatic functions. My shoulders were reasonably broad, -my back reasonably straight, no paunch marred the lines of my new -finery. This outfit made a man look like a man. How the devil had we -gotten into the habit of draping ourselves in shapeless double-breasted -suits, in mousy colors, of identical cut? - -Goering was sitting in a brocaded armchair in the luxurious suite to -which Richthofen had shown me in his villa. - -"You cut a martial figure, Brion," he said. "It is plain to see you -have, for this new job, a natural aptitude." - -"I wouldn't count on it, Hermann," I said. His comment had reminded me -of the other side of the coin; the deadly plans the Imperium had in -mind for me. Well, I could settle that later. Tonight I was going to -enjoy myself. - -Over a dinner of pheasant served on a sunny terrace in the long -Swedish summer evening, Richthofen had explained to me that, in -Swedish society, to be without a title was an extremely awkward social -encumbrance. It was not that one needed an exalted position, he assured -me; merely that there must be something for others to call one--Herr -Doctor, Herr Professor, Ingenjör, Redaktör. My military status would -ease my entry into the world of the Imperium. - -Winter came in then, carrying what looked like a crystal ball. - -"Your topper, sir," he said with a flourish. What he had was a -chrome-plated steel helmet, with a rib running along the top, and a -gold-dyed plume growing out of it. - -"Good God," I said, "Isn't that overdoing it a little?" I took the -helmet; it was feather light, I discovered. The tailor took over, -placed the helmet just so, handed me a pair of white leather gloves, -and faded out. - -"You have to have it, old boy," Winter said. "Dragoons, you know." - -"You are complete," Hermann said. "A masterpiece." - -He was wearing a dark grey uniform with black trim and white insignia. -He had a respectable but not excessive display of ribbons and orders. - -"Hermann," I said expansively, "you should have seen yourself when you -were all rigged out in your medals back home. They came down to here." -I indicated my knees. He laughed. - -Together we left the suite and went down to the study on the ground -floor. Winter, I noted, had changed from his whites to a pale yellow -mess jacket with heavy silver braid and a nickel-plated Luger. - -Richthofen showed up moments later; his outfit consisted of what looked -like a set of tails, circa 1880, with silver buttons and a white beret. - -"We're a cool bunch of cats," I said. I was feeling swell. I caught -another glimpse of myself in a mirror. "Sharp, daddy-o," I murmured. - -A liveried butler swung the glass door open for us and we descended the -steps to a waiting car. This one was a vast yellow phaeton, with the -top down. We slid into our places on the smooth yellow leather seats -and it eased off down the drive. - -It was a magnificent night, with high clouds and a brilliant moon. In -the distance, the lights of the city glittered. We rolled smoothly -along, the engine so silent that the sound of the wind in the tall -trees along the way was clearly audible. - -Goering had thought to bring along a small flask, and by the time we -had each tapped it twice we were passing through the iron gates of -the summer palace. Colored floodlights bathed the gardens and people -already filled the terrace on the south and west sides of the building. -The car dropped us before the gigantic entry and moved off. We made -our way through the crowd, and into the reception hall. - -Light from massive crystal chandeliers glittered on gowns and -uniforms, polished boots and jewels, silks, brocades and velvets. -A straight-backed man in rose-pink bowed over the hand of a lovely -blonde in white. A slender black-clad fellow with a gold and white sash -escorted a lady in green-gold toward the ballroom. The din of laughter -and conversation almost drowned out the strains of the waltz in the -background. - -"All right, boys," I said. "Where's the punch bowl?" - -I don't often set out to get stewed, but when I do, I don't believe in -half measures. I was feeling great, and wanted to keep it that way. At -the moment, I couldn't feel the bruises from my fall, my indignation -over being grabbed was forgotten, and as for tomorrow, I couldn't care -less. I was having a wonderful time. I hoped I wouldn't see Bale's sour -face. - -Everybody talked, asked me eager questions, made introductions. I found -myself talking to someone I finally recognized as Douglas Fairbanks, -Sr. He was a tough-looking old fellow in a naval uniform. I met counts, -dukes, officers of a dozen ranks I'd never heard of, several princes, -and finally a short broad-shouldered man with a heavy sun tan and a -go-to-hell smile whom I finally realized was the son of the Emperor. - -I was still walking and talking like a million dollars, but somewhere -along the line I'd lost what little tact I normally had. - -"Well, Prince William," I said, weaving just a little, "I understood -the House of Hanover-Windsor was the ruling line here. Where I -come from the Hanovers and the Windsors are all tall, skinny and -glum-looking." - -The Prince smiled. "Here, Colonel," he said, "a policy was established -which put an end to that unfortunate situation. The Constitution -requires that the male heir marry a commoner. This not only makes -life more pleasant for the heir, with so many beautiful commoners to -choose from, but maintains the vigor of the line. And it incidentally -produces short men with happy faces occasionally." - -I moved on, meeting people, eating little sandwiches, drinking -everything from aquavit to beer, and dancing with one heavenly-looking -girl after another. For the first time in my life my ten years of -Embassy elbow-bending were standing me in good stead. From the grim -experience gained through seven evenings a week of holding a drink in -my hand from sundown till midnight while pumping other members of the -Diplomatic Corps who thought they were pumping me, I had emerged with a -skill; I could hold my liquor. - -Somewhere along the line I felt the need for a breath of fresh air -and stepped out through the tall French doors onto a dark balustraded -gallery overlooking the gardens. I leaned on the heavy stone rail, -looked up at the stars visible through tall tree-tops, and waited for -the buzzing in my head to die down a little. - -The night air moved in a cool torrent over the dark lawn, carrying -the scent of flowers. Behind me the orchestra played a tune that was -almost, but not quite, a Strauss waltz. - -I pulled off the white gloves that Richthofen had told me I should keep -on when I left my helmet at the checkroom. I unbuttoned the top button -of the tight-fitting jacket. - -I'm getting old, I thought, or maybe just tired. - -"Any why are you tired, Colonel?" a cool feminine voice inquired from -behind me. - -I turned around. "Ah, there you are," I said. "I'm glad. I'd rather be -guilty of talking out loud than of imagining voices." - -I worked on focusing my eyes a little better. She had red hair, and -wore a pale pink gown that started low and stayed with the subject. - -"I'm very glad, as a matter of fact," I added. "I like beautiful -redheads who appear out of nowhere." - -"Not out of nowhere, Colonel," she said. "From in there, where it is so -warm and crowded." - -She spoke excellent English in a low voice, with just enough Swedish -accent to render her tritest speech charming. - -"Precisely," I said. "All those people were making me just a little bit -drunk, so I came out here to recover." I was wearing a silly smile, and -having a thoroughly good time being so eloquent and clever with this -delightful young lady. - -"My father has told me that you are not born to the Imperium, Colonel," -she said. "And that you come from a world where all is the same, yet -different. It should be so interesting to hear about it." - -"Why talk about that place?" I said. "We've forgotten how to have fun -back there. We take ourselves very seriously, and we figure out the -most elaborate excuses for doing the rottenest things to each other...." - -I shook my head. I didn't like that train of thought. "See," I said, "I -always talk like that with my gloves off." I pulled them on again. "And -now," I said grandly, "may I have the pleasure of this dance?" - -It was half an hour before we went back inside to visit the punchbowl. -The orchestra had just begun a waltz when a shattering blast rocked the -floor, and the tall glass doors along the east side of the ballroom -blew in. Through the cloud of dust which followed up the explosion, -a swarm of men in motley remnants of uniforms leaped into the room. -The leader, a black-bearded giant wearing a faded and patched U.S. -Army-type battle jacket and baggy Wehrmacht trousers, jacked the lever -on the side of a short drum-fed machine gun, and squeezed a long burst -into the thick of the crowd. - -Men and women alike fell under the murdering attack, but every man who -remained on his feet rushed the nearest attacker without hesitation. -Standing in the rubble, a bristle-faced redhead wearing an undersized -British sergeant's blouse pumped eight shots from the hip, knocking -down an oncoming officer of the Imperium with every shot; when he -stepped back to jam a new clip into the M-1, the ninth man ran him -through the throat with a jewel-encrusted rapier. - -I still stood frozen, holding my girl's hand. I whirled, started to -shout to her to get back, to run; but the calm look I saw in her eyes -stopped me. She'd rather be decently dead than flee this rabble. - -I jerked my toy sword from its scabbard, dashed to the wall, and moved -along it to the edge of the gaping opening. As the next man pushed -through the cloud of dust and smoke, peering ahead, gripping a shotgun, -I jammed the point of my sword into his neck, hard, and jerked it back -before it was wrenched from my hands. He stumbled on, choking, the -shotgun falling with a clatter. I reached out, raked it in, as another -man appeared. He carried a Colt .45 in his left hand, and he saw me as -I saw him. He swivelled to fire, and as he did I brought the poised -blade down on his arm. The shot went into the floor and the pistol -bounced out of the loose hand. He fell back into the trampling crowd. - -Another fellow lunged out of the dust, cutting across the room, and -saw me. He levelled a heavy rifle on its side across his left forearm. -He moved slowly and clumsily. I saw that his left hand was hanging by -a thread. I grabbed up the shotgun and blew his face off. It had been -about two minutes since the explosion. - -I waited a moment, but no more came through the blasted window. I saw a -wiry ruffian with long yellow hair falling back toward me as he pushed -another magazine into a Browning automatic rifle. I jumped two steps, -set the point of the sword just about where the kidneys should be, and -rammed with both hands. No very elegant style, I thought, but I'm just -a beginner. - -I saw Goering then, arms around a tall fellow who cursed and struggled -to raise his battered sub-machine gun. A gun roared in my ear and the -back of my neck burned. I realized my jump had literally saved my neck. -I ran around to the side of the grappling pair, and shoved the blade -into the thin man's ribs. It grated and stuck, but he wilted. I'm not -much of a sport, I thought, but I guess guns against pig-stickers makes -it even. - -Hermann stepped back, spat disgustedly, and leaped on the nearest -bandit. I wrenched at my sword, but it was wedged tight. I left it and -grabbed up the tommy gun. A long-legged villain was just closing the -chamber of his revolver as I pumped a burst into his stomach. I saw -dust fly from the shabby cloth of his coat as the slugs smacked home. - -I glanced around. Several of the men of the Imperium were firing -captured guns now, and the remnant of the invading mob had fallen back -toward the shattered wall. Bullets cut them down as they stood at bay, -still pouring out a ragged fire. None of them tried to flee. - -I ran forward, sensing something wrong. I raised my gun and cut down a -bloody-faced man as he stood firing two .45 automatics. My last round -nicked a heavy-set carbine man, and the drum was empty. I picked up -another weapon from the floor, as one lone thug still standing pounded -the bolt of his rifle with his palm. - -"Take him alive," someone shouted. The firing stopped and a dozen men -seized the struggling man. The crowd milled, women bending over those -who lay on the floor, men staggering from their exertions. I ran toward -the billowing drapes. - -"Come on," I shouted. "Outside...." I didn't have time or breath to -say more, or to see if anyone came. I leaped across the rubble, out -onto the blasted terrace, leaped the rail, and landed in the garden, -sprawled a little, but still moving. In the light of the colored floods -a grey-painted van, ponderously bulky, sat askew across flower beds. -Besides it, three tattered crewmen struggled with a bulky load. A small -tripod stood on the lawn, awaiting the mounting of their burden. I had -time for one momentary mental vision of what a fission bomb would do -to the summer palace and its occupants, before I dashed at them with -a yell. I fired the pistol I had grabbed, as fast as I could pull -the trigger, and the three men hesitated, pulled against each other, -cursed, and started back toward the open door of their van with the -bomb. One of them fell, and I realized someone behind me was firing -accurately. Another of the men yelped and ran off a few yards to -crumple on the grass. The third jumped for the open door, and a moment -later a rush of air threw dust against my face as the van flicked out -of existence. The sound was like a pool of gasoline igniting. - -The bulky package lay on the ground now, ominous. I felt sure it was -not yet armed. I turned to the others. "Don't touch this thing," I -called. "I'm sure it's some kind of atomic bomb." - -"Nice work, old boy," a familiar voice said. It was Winter, blood -spattered on the pale yellow of his tunic. "Might have known those -chaps were fighting a delaying action for a reason. Are you all right?" - -"Yeah," I said, breathless. "Let's go back inside. They'll need -tourniquets and men to twist them." - -We picked our way through the broken glass, fragments of flagstones, -and splinters of framing, past the flapping drapes, into the brightly -lit dust-rolled ballroom. - -Dead and wounded lay in a rough semicircle around the broken wall. I -recognized a pretty brunette in a blue dress whom I had danced with -earlier, lying on the floor, face waxen. Everyone was splattered with -crimson. I looked around frantically for my redhead, and saw her -kneeling beside a wounded man, binding his head. - -There was a shout. Winter and I whirled. One of the wounded intruders -moved, threw something, then collapsed as shots struck him. I heard the -thump and the rattle as the object fell, and as in a dream I watched -the grenade roll over and over, clattering, stop ten feet away and spin -a half turn. I stood, frozen. Finished, I thought. And I never even -learned her name. - -From behind me I heard a gasp as Winter leaped past me and threw -himself forward. He landed spread-eagled over the grenade as it -exploded with a muffled thump, throwing Winter two feet into the air. - -I staggered, and turned away, dizzy. Poor Winter. Poor damned Winter. - -I felt myself passing out, and went to my knees. The floor was tilting. - -She was bending over me, face pale, but still steady. - -I reached up and touched her hand. "What's your name?" I said. - -"My name?" she said. "Barbro Lundane. I thought you knew my name." She -seemed a bit dazed. I sat up. "Better lend a hand to someone who's -worse off than I am, Barbro," I said. "I just have a weak constitution." - -"No," she said. "You've bled much." - -Richthofen appeared, looking grim. He helped me up. My neck and head -ached. "Thank God you are alive," he said. - -"Thank Winter I'm alive," I replied. "I don't suppose there's a -chance...?" - -"Killed instantly," Richthofen said. "He knew his duty." - -"Poor guy," I said. "It should have been me." - -"We're fortunate it wasn't you," Richthofen said. "It was close. As it -is, you've lost considerable blood. You must come along and rest now." - -"I want to stay here," I said. "Maybe I can do something useful." - -Goering had appeared from somewhere, and he laid an arm across my -shoulders, leading me away. - -"Calmly, now, my friend," he said. "There is no need to feel it so -strongly; he died in performance of his duty, as he would have wished." - -Hermann knew what was bothering me. I could have blanked out that -grenade as easily as Winter, but the thought hadn't even occurred to -me. If I hadn't been paralyzed, I'd have run. - -I didn't struggle; I felt washed out, suddenly suffering a premature -hangover. Manfred joined us at the car, and we drove home in near -silence. I asked about the bomb and Goering said that Bale's men had -taken it over. "Tell them to dump it at sea," I said. - -At the villa, someone waited on the steps as we drove up. I recognized -Bale's rangy figure with the undersized head. I ignored him as he -collared Hermann. - -I went into the dining room, poured a stiff drink at the sideboard, sat -down. - -The others came behind me, talking. I wondered where Bale had been all -evening. - -Bale sat down, eyeing me. He wanted to hear all about the attack. He -seemed to take the news calmly but sourly. - -He looked at me, pursing his lips. "Mr. Goering has told me that you -conducted yourself quite well, Mr. Bayard, during the fight. Perhaps I -was hasty in my judgment of you." - -"Who the hell cares what you think, Bale?" I said. "Where were you when -the lead was flying? Under the rug?" - -Bale turned white, stood up glaring and stalked out of the room. -Goering cleared his throat and Manfred cast an odd look at me as he -rose to perform his hostly duty of conducting a guest to the door. - -"Inspector Bale is not a man easy to associate with," Hermann said. "I -understand your feeling." He rose and came around the table. - -"I feel you should know," he went on, "that he is among the most -skillful with sabre and epee. Make no hasty decision now--" - -"What decision?" I asked. - -"Already you have a painful wound," he said. "We must not allow you to -be laid up at this critical time. Are you sure of your skill with a -pistol?" - -"What wound?" I said. "You mean my neck?" I put my hand up to touch -it. I winced; there was a deep gouge, caked with blood. Suddenly I was -aware that the back of my jacket was soggy. That near-miss was a little -nearer than I had thought. - -"I hope you will accord Manfred and myself the honor of seconding you," -Hermann continued, "and perhaps of advising you...." - -"What's this all about, Hermann?" I said. "What do you mean--seconding -me?" - -"Why," he seemed confused, "we wish to stand with you in your meeting -with Bale." - -"Meeting with Bale?" I repeated. I knew I didn't sound very bright. I -was beginning to realize how lousy I felt. - -Goering stopped and looked at me. "Inspector Bale is a man most -sensitive of personal dignity," he said. "You have given him a -tongue-lashing before witnesses, and a well deserved one it was; -however, it remains a certainty that he will demand satisfaction." He -saw that I was still groping. "Bale will challenge you, Brion," he -said. "You must fight him." - - - - - Chapter 6 - - -I was cold, chilled to the bone. I was still half asleep, and I carried -my head tilted forward and a little to the side in a hopeless attempt -to minimize the vast throbbing ache from the furrow across the back of -my neck. - -Richthofen, Goering and I stood together under spreading linden trees -at the lower end of the Royal Game Park. It was a few minutes before -dawn and I was wondering how a slug in the kneecap would feel. - -There was the faint sound of an engine approaching, and a long car -loomed up in the gloom on the road above, lights gleaming through -morning mist. - -The sound of doors opening and slamming was muffled and indistinct. -Three figures were dimly visible, approaching down the gentle slope. My -seconds moved away to meet them. One of the three detached itself from -the group and stood alone, as I did. That would be Bale. - -Another car pulled in behind the first. The doctor, I thought. In the -dim glow from the second car's small square cowl lights I saw another -figure emerge. I watched; it looked like a woman. - -I heard the murmur of voices, a low chuckle. They were very palsy, I -thought. Everything on a very high plane. - -I thought over what Goering had told me on the way to the field of -honor, as he called it. - -Bale had offered his challenge under the Toth convention. This meant -that the duelists must not try to kill each other; the object of the -game was to inflict painful wounds, to humiliate one's opponent. - -This could be a pretty tricky business. In the excitement of the fight, -it wasn't easy to inflict wounds that were thoroughly humiliating but -definitely not fatal. - -Richthofen had lent me a pair of black trousers and a white shirt for -the performance, and a light overcoat against the pre-dawn chill. I -wished it had been a heavy one. The only warm part of me was my neck, -swathed in bandages. - -The little group broke up now. My two backers approached, smiled -encouragingly, and in low voices invited me to come along. Goering took -my coat. I missed it. - -Bale and his men were walking toward a spot in the clear, where the -early light was slightly better. We moved up to join them. - -"I think we have light enough now, eh, Baron?" said Hallendorf. - -I could see better now; the light was increasing rapidly. Long pink -streamers flew in the east; the trees were still dark in silhouettes. - -Hallendorf stepped up to me, and offered the pistol box. I picked -one of the pistols, without looking at it. Bale took the other, -methodically worked the action, snapped the trigger, examined the -rifling. Richthofen handed each of us a magazine. - -"Five rounds," he said. I had no comment. - -Bale stepped over to the place indicated by Hallendorf and turned his -back. I could see the cars outlined against the sky now. The big one -looked like a '30 Packard, I thought. At Goering's gesture, I took my -post, back to Bale. - -"At the signal, gentlemen," Hallendorf said, "step forward ten paces -and pause; at the command turn and fire. Gentlemen, in the name of the -Emperor and of honor!" - -The white handkerchief in his hand fluttered to the ground. I started -walking. One, two, three.... - -There was someone standing by the smaller car. I wondered who it -was ... eight, nine, ten. I stopped, waiting. Hallendorf's voice was -calm. "Turn and fire." - -I turned, holding the pistol at my side. Bale pumped a cartridge into -the chamber, set his feet apart, body sideways to me, left arm behind -his back, and raised his pistol. We were seventy feet apart across the -wet field. - -I started walking toward him. Nobody had said I had to stay in one -spot. Bale lowered his pistol slightly and I saw his pale face, eyes -staring. The pistol came up again, and almost instantly jumped as a -flat crack rang out. The spent cartridge popped up over Bale's head and -dropped on the wet grass, catching the light. A miss. - -I walked on. I had no intention of standing in the half dark, firing -wildly at a half-seen target. I didn't intend to be forced into killing -a man by accident, even if it was his idea. And I didn't intend to be -pushed into solemnly playing Bale's game with him. - -Bale held the automatic at arm's length, following me as I approached. -He could have killed me easily, but that was against the code. The -weapon wavered; he couldn't decide on a target. My moving was bothering -him. - -The pistol steadied and jumped again, the shot sounding faint on the -foggy air. I realized he was trying for the legs; I was close enough -now to see the depressed angle of the barrel. - -He stepped back a pace, set himself again, and raised the Mauser -higher. He was going to try to break a rib, I guessed. A tricky shot, -easy to miss--either way. My stomach muscles tensed with anticipation. - -I didn't hear the next one; the sensation was exactly like a baseball -bat slammed against my side. I felt that I was stumbling, air knocked -from my lungs, but I kept my feet. A great warm ache spread from just -above the hip. Only twenty feet away now. I fought to draw a breath. - -Bale's expression was visible, a stiff shocked look, mouth squeezed -shut. He aimed at my feet and fired twice in rapid succession; I -think by error. One shot went through my boot between the toes of my -right foot, the other in the dirt. I walked up to him. I sucked air -in painfully. I wanted to say something, but I couldn't. It was all I -could do to keep from gasping. Abruptly, Bale backed a step, aimed the -pistol at my chest and pulled the trigger; it clicked. He looked down -at the gun. - -I dropped the Mauser at his feet, doubled my fist, and hit him hard on -the jaw. He reeled back as I turned away. - -I walked over to Goering and Richthofen as the doctor hurried up. They -came forward to meet me. - -"Lieber Gott," Hermann breathed as he seized my hand and pumped it. -"This story they will never believe." - -"If your object was to make a fool of Inspector Bale," Richthofen said -with a gleam in his eye, "you have scored an unqualified success. I -think you have taught him respect." - -The doctor pressed forward. "Gentlemen, I must take a look at the -wound." A stool was produced, and I gratefully sank down on it. - -I stuck my foot out. "Better take a look at this too," I said, "it -feels a little tender." - -The doctor muttered and exclaimed as he began snipping at the cloth -and leather. He was enjoying every minute of it. The doc, I saw, was a -romantic. - -A thought was trying to form itself in my mind. I opened my eyes. -Barbro was coming toward me across the grass, dawn light gleaming in -her red hair. I realized what it was I had to say. - -"Hermann," I said. "Manfred. I need a long nap, but before I start -I think I ought to tell you; I've had so much fun tonight that I've -decided to take the job." - -"Easy, Brion," Manfred said. "There no need to think of it now." - -"No trouble at all," I said. - -Barbro bent over. "Brion," she said. "You are not badly hurt?" She -looked worried. - -I smiled at her and reached for her hand. "I'll bet you think I'm -accident prone; but actually I sometimes go for days at a time without -so much as a bad fall." - -She took my hand in both of hers as she knelt down. "You must be -suffering great pain, Brion, to talk so foolishly," she said. "I -thought he would lose his head and kill you." She turned to the doctor. -"Help him, Dr. Blum." - -"You are fortunate, Colonel," the doctor said, sticking a finger into -the furrow on my side. "The rib is not fractured. In a few days you -will have only a little scar and a big bruise to remind you." - -I squeezed Barbro's hand. "Help me up, Barbro," I said. - -Goering gave me his shoulder to lean on. "For you now, a long nap," he -said. I was ready for it. - - - - - Chapter 7 - - -I tried to relax in my chair in the cramped shuttle. Just in front of -me the operator sat tensed over a tiny illuminated board, peering at -instrument faces and tapping the keys of what looked like a miniature -calculating machine. A soundless hum filled the air, penetrating my -bones. - -I twisted, seeking a more comfortable position. My half-healed neck -and side were stiffening up again. Bits and fragments of the last ten -days' incessant briefing ran through my mind. Imperial Intelligence -hadn't been able to gather as much material as they wanted on Marshal -of the State Bayard, but it was more than I was able to assimilate -consciously. I hoped the hypnotic sessions I had had every night for a -week in place of real sleep had taken at a level where the data would -pop up when I needed it. - -Bayard was a man of mystery, even to his own people. He was rarely -seen, except via what the puzzled Intelligence men said seemed to be a -sort of electric picture apparatus. I had tried to explain that TV was -commonplace in my world, but they never really understood it. - -They had given me a good night's sleep the last three nights, and a -tough hour of cleverly planned calisthenics every day. My wounds had -healed well, so that now I was physically ready for the adventure; -mentally, however, I was fagged. The result was an eagerness to get on -with the thing and find out the worst of what I was faced with. I had -enough of words; now I wanted the relief of action. - -I checked over my equipment. I wore a military tunic duplicating -that shown in the official portrait of Bayard. Since there was no -information on what he wore below the chest, I had suggested olive drab -trousers, matching what I recognized as the French regulation jacket. - -At my advice, we'd skipped the ribbons and orders shown in the photo; -I didn't think he would wear them around his private apartment in an -informal situation. For the same reason, my collar was unbuttoned and -my tie loosened. - -They had kept me on a diet of lean beefsteak, to try to thin my face -a bit. A hair specialist had given me vigorous scalp massages every -morning and evening, and insisted that I not wash my head. This -was intended to stimulate rapid growth and achieve the unclipped -continental look of the dictator's picture. - -Snapped to my belt was a small web pouch containing my communication -transmitter. We had decided to let it show rather than seek with -doubtful success to conceal it. The microphone was woven into the heavy -braid on my lapels. I had a thick stack of NPS currency in my wallet. - -I moved my right hand carefully, feeling for the pressure of the -release spring that would throw the palm-sized slug-gun into my hand -with the proper flexing of the wrist. - -The little weapon was a marvel of compact deadliness. In shape it -resembled a water-washed stone, grey and smooth. It could lie unnoticed -on the ground, a feature which might be of great importance to me in an -emergency. - -Inside the gun a hair-sized channel spiralled down into the grip. A -compressed gas, filling the tiny hole, served as both propellant and -projectile. At a pressure on the right spot, unmarked, a minute globule -of the liquefied gas was fired with tremendous velocity. Once free -of the confining walls of the tough alloy barrel, the bead expanded -explosively to a volume of a cubic foot. The result was an almost -soundless blow, capable of shattering one-quarter inch armor, instantly -fatal within a range of ten feet. - -It was the kind of weapon I needed--inconspicuous, quiet, and deadly at -short range. The spring arrangement made it almost a part of the hand, -if the hand were expert. - -I had practiced the motion for hours, while listening to lectures, -eating, even lying in bed. I was very conscientious about that piece -of training; it was my insurance. I tried not to think about my other -insurance, set in the hollowed-out bridge replacing a back tooth. - -Each evening, after the day's hard routine, I had relaxed with new -friends, exploring the Imperial Ballet, theatres, opera and a lively -variety show. With Barbro, I had dined sumptuously at half a dozen -fabulous restaurants and afterwards walked in moonlit gardens, sipped -coffee as the sun rose, and talked. When the day came to leave, I had -more than a casual desire to return. The sooner I got started, the -quicker I would get back. - -The operator turned. "Colonel," he said, "brace yourself, sir. There's -something here I don't understand." - -I tensed, but said nothing. I figured he would tell me more as soon as -he knew more. I moved my hand tentatively against the slug-gun release. -I already had the habit. - -"I've detected a moving body in the Net," he said. "It seems to be -trying to match our course. My spatial fix on it indicates it's very -near." - -The Imperium was decades behind my world in nuclear physics, -television, aerodynamics, etc., but when it came to the instrumentation -of these Maxoni devices, they were fantastic. After all, they had -devoted their best scientific efforts to the task for almost sixty -years. - -Now the operator hovered over his panel controls like a nervous -organist. - -"I get a mass of about fifteen hundred kilos," he said. "That's about -right for a light scout, but it can't be one of ours...." - -There was a tense silence for several minutes. - -"He's pacing us, Colonel," the operator said. "Either they've got -better instrumentation than we thought, or this chap has had a stroke -of blind luck. He was lying in wait." - -Both of us were assuming the stranger could be nothing but a B-I Two -vessel. - -The operator tensed up suddenly, hands frozen. "He's coming in on -us, Colonel," he said. "He's going to ram. We'll blow sky-high if he -crosses our fix." - -My thoughts ran like lightning over my slug-gun--the hollow tooth; I -wondered what would happen when he hit. Somehow, I hadn't expected it -to end here. The impossible tension lasted only a few seconds. The -operator relaxed. - -"Missed," he said. "Apparently his spatial maneuvering isn't as good as -his Net mobility. But he'll be back; he's after blood." - -I had a thought. "Our maximum rate is controlled by the energy of -normal entropy, isn't it?" I asked. - -He nodded. - -"What about going slower," I said. "Maybe he'll over-shoot." - -I could see the sweat start on the back of his neck from here. - -"A bit risky in the Blight, sir," he said, "but we'll have a go at it." - -I knew how hard that was for an operator to say. This young fellow had -had six years of intensive training, and not a day of it has passed -without a warning against any unnecessary control changes in the Blight. - -The sound of the generators changed, the pitch of the whine descending -into the audible range, dropping lower. - -"He's still with us, Colonel," the operator said. - -The pitch fell lower. I didn't know what the critical point would be -reached when we would lose our artificial orientation and rotate into -normal entropy. We sat rigid, waiting. The sound dropped down, almost -baritone now. The operator tapped again and again at a key, glancing at -a dial. - -The drive hum was a harsh droning now; we couldn't expect to go much -further without disaster. But then neither could the enemy. - -"He's right with us, Colonel, only--" Suddenly the operator shouted. - -"We lost him, Colonel! His controls aren't as good as ours in that -line, anyway; he dropped into identity." - -I sank back, as the whine of our MC generator built up again. My palms -were wet. I wondered into which of the hells of the Blight they had -gone. But I had another problem to face in a few minutes. This was not -the time for shaken nerves. - -"Good work, operator," I said at last. "How much longer?" - -"About--good God--ten minutes, sir," he answered. "That little business -took longer than I thought." - -I started a last minute check. My mouth was dry. Everything seemed to -be in place. I pressed the button on my communicator. - -"Hello, Talisman," I said, "here is Wolfhound Red. How do you hear me? -Over." - -"Wolfhound Red, Talisman here, you're coming in right and bright, -over." The tiny voice spoke almost in my ear from the speaker in a -button on my shoulder strap. - -I liked the instant response; I felt a little less lonesome. - -I looked at the trip mechanism for the escape door. I was to wait for -the operator to say, "Crash out," and hit the lever. I had exactly two -seconds then to pull my arm back and kick the slug-gun into my palm -before the seat would automatically dump me, standing, out the exit. -The shuttle would be gone before my feet hit the floor. - -I had been so wrapped up in the business at hand for the past ten days -that I had not really thought about the moment of my arrival in the -B-I Two world. The smoothly professional handling of my hasty training -had given the job an air of practicality and realism. Now, about to be -propelled into the innermost midst of the enemy, I began to realize the -suicidal aspects of the mission. But it was too late now for second -thoughts--and in a way I was glad. I was involved now in this world of -the Imperium; it was a part of my life worth risking something for. - -I was a card the Imperium held, and it was my turn to be played. I was -valuable property, but that value could only be realized by putting -me into the scene in just this way, and the sooner the better. I had -no assurance that the dictator was in residence at the palace now; -I might find myself hiding in his quarters awaiting his return, for -God knows how long--and maybe lucky at that, to get that far. I hoped -our placement of the suite was correct, based on information gotten -from the captive taken at the ballroom, under deep narco-hypnosis. -Otherwise, I might find myself treading air, 150 feet up. - -There was a slamming of switches, and the operator twisted in his chair. - -"Crash out, Wolfhound," he cried, "and good hunting." - -Reach out and slam the lever; arm at the side, snap the gun into place -in my hand; with a metallic whack and a rush of air the exit popped and -a giant hand palmed me out into dimness. One awful instant of vertigo, -of a step missed in the dark, and then my feet slammed against carpeted -floor. Air whipped about my face, and the echoes of the departing boom -of the shuttle still hung in the corridor. - -I remembered my instructions. I stood still, turning casually to check -behind me. There was no one in sight. The hall was dark except for the -faint light from a ceiling fixture at the next intersection. I had -arrived. - -I slipped the gun back into its latch under my cuff. No point in -standing here; I started off at a leisurely pace toward the light. The -doors lining the hall were identical, unmarked. I paused and tried one. -Locked. So was the next. The third one opened, and I looked cautiously -into a sitting room. I went on. What I wanted was the sleeping room of -the dictator, if possible. If he were in, I knew what to do; if not, -presumably he would return if I waited long enough. Meanwhile, I wanted -very much not to meet anyone. - -There was the sound of an elevator door opening, just around the corner -ahead. I stopped. I eased back to the last door I had checked, opened -it and stepped inside, closing it almost all the way behind me. My -heart was thudding painfully. I didn't feel daring; I felt like a sneak -thief. Faintly, I heard steps coming my way. - -I silently closed the door, taking care not to let the latch click. -I stood behind it for a moment before deciding it would be better to -conceal myself, just in case. I glanced around, moving into the center -of the room. I could barely make out outlines in the gloom. There was a -tall shape against the wall--a wardrobe, I thought. I hurried across to -it, opened the door, and stepped in among hanging clothes. - -I stood for a moment, feeling foolish, then froze as the door to the -hall opened and closed again softly. There were no footsteps, and then -a light went on. My closet door was open just enough to catch a glimpse -of a man's back as he turned away from the lamp. I heard the soft sound -of a chair being pulled out, and then the tiny jingle of keys. There -were faint metallic sounds, a pause, more faint metallic sounds. The -man was apparently trying keys in the lock of a table or desk. - -I stood absolutely rigid. I breathed shallowly, tried not to think -about a sudden itch on my cheek. I could see the shoulder of the coat -hanging to my left. I turned my eyes to it. It was almost identical -with the one I was wearing. The lapels were adorned with heavy braid. -I had a small moment of relief; I had found the right apartment, at -least. But my victim must be the man in the room; and I had never felt -less like killing anyone in my life. - -The little sounds went on. I could hear the man's heavy breathing. All -at once I wondered what he would look like, this double of mine. Would -he really resemble me, or more to the point, did I look enough like him -to take his place? - -I wondered why he took so long finding the right key; then another -thought struck me. Didn't this sound a little more like someone trying -to open someone else's desk? I moved my head a fraction of an inch. The -clothes moved silently, and I edged a little farther. Now I could see -him. He sat hunched in the chair, working impatiently on the lock. He -was short and had thin hair, and resembled me not in the least. It was -not the dictator. - -This was a new factor for me to think over, and in a hurry. The -dictator was obviously not around, or this fellow would not be here -attempting to rifle his desk. And the dictator had people around him -who were not above prying. That fact might be useful to me. - -It took him five minutes to find a key that fit. I stood with muscles -aching from the awkward pose, trying not to think of the lint that -might cause a sneeze. I could hear the shuffling of papers and faint -muttering as the man looked over his finds. At length there was the -sound of the drawer closing, the click of the lock. Now the man was on -his feet, the chair pushed back, and then silence for a few moments. -Steps came toward me. I froze, my wrist twitching, ready to cover him -and fire if necessary the instant he pulled the door open. I wasn't -ready to start my imposture just yet, skulking in a closet. - -I let out a soundless sigh as he passed the opening and disappeared. -More sounds as he ran through the drawers of a bureau or chest. - -Suddenly the hall door opened again, and another set of steps entered -the room. I heard my man freeze. Then he spoke, in guttural French. - -"Oh, it's you, is it, Maurice." - -There was a pause. Maurice's tone was insinuating. - -"Yes, I thought I saw a light in the chief's study. I thought that was -a bit odd, what with him away tonight." - -The first man sauntered back toward the center of the room. "I just -thought I'd have a look to see that everything was OK here." - -Maurice tittered. "Don't try to rob a thief, Georges; I know why you -came here--for the same reason as I." - -"What are you up to?" the first man hissed. "What do you want?" - -"Sit down, Flic. Oh, don't get excited; they all call you that." -Maurice was enjoying himself. I listened carefully for half an hour -while he goaded and cajoled, and pressured the other. The first man, -I learned, was Georges Pinay, the chief of the dictator's security -force. The other man was a civilian military adviser to the Bureau of -Propaganda and Education. Pinay, it seemed, had been less clever than -he thought in planning a _coup_ that was to unseat Bayard. Maurice knew -all about it, and had bided his time; and now he was taking over. Pinay -didn't like it, but he accepted it after Maurice mentioned a few things -nobody was supposed to know about a hidden airplane and a deposit of -gold coins buried a few miles outside the city. - -I listened carefully, without moving, and after a while even the itch -went away. Pinay had been looking for lists of names, he admitted; he -planned to enlist a few more supporters by showing them their names in -the dictator's own hand on the purge schedule. He hadn't planned to -mention that he himself had nominated them for the list. - -I made the mistake of over-confidence; I was just waiting for them to -finish up when a sudden silence fell. I didn't know what I had done -wrong, but I knew at once what was coming. The steps were very quiet -and there was just a moment's pause before the door was flung open. I -hoped my make-up was on straight. - -I stepped out, casting a cool glance at Pinay. - -"Well, Georges," I said, "it's nice to know you keep yourself occupied -when I'm away." I used the same French dialect they had used, and my -wrist was against the little lever. - -"The devil," Maurice burst out. He stared at me with wide eyes. For a -moment I thought I was going to get away with it. Then Pinay lunged at -me. I whirled, side-stepped; and the slug-gun slapped my palm. - -"Hold it," I barked. - -Pinay ignored the order and charged again. I squeezed the tiny weapon, -bracing myself against the recoil. There was a solid thump and Pinay -bounced aside, landed on his back, loose-limbed, and lay still. Then -Maurice hit me from the side. I stumbled across the room, tripped and -fell, and he was on top of me. I still had my gun, and tried to bring -it into play, but I was dazed, and Maurice was fast and strong as a -bull. He flipped me and held me in a one-handed judo hold that pinned -both arms behind me. He was astride me, breathing heavily. - -"Who are you?" he hissed. - -"I thought you'd know me, Maurice," I said. With infinite care I -groped, tucked the slug-gun into my cuff. I heard it click home and I -relaxed. - -"So you thought that, eh?" Maurice laughed. His face was pink and -moist. He pulled a heavy blackjack from his pocket as he slid off me. - -"Get up," he said. He looked me over. - -"My God," he said. "Fantastic. Who sent you?" - -I didn't answer. It seemed I wasn't fooling him for a minute. I -wondered what was so wrong. Still, he seemed to find my appearance -interesting. He stepped forward and slammed the sap against my neck, -with a controlled motion. He could have broken my neck with it, -but what he did was more painful. I felt the blood start from my -half-healed neck wound. He saw it, and looked puzzled for a moment. -Then his face cleared. - -"Excuse me," he said, grinning. "I'll try for a fresh spot next time. -And answer when spoken to." There was a viciousness in his voice that -reminded me of the attack at the palace. These men had seen hell on -earth and they were no longer fully human. - -He looked at me appraisingly, slapping his palm with the blackjack. "I -think we'll have a little talk downstairs," he said. "Keep the hands in -sight." His eyes darted about, apparently looking for my gun. He was -very sure of himself; he didn't let it worry him when he didn't see it. -He didn't want to take his eyes off me long enough to really make a -search. - -"Stay close, Baby," he said. "Just like that, come along now, nice and -easy." - -I kept my hands away from my sides, and followed him over to the phone. -He wasn't as good as he thought; I could have taken him any time. I had -a hunch, though, that it might be better to string along a little, to -find out something more. - -Maurice picked up the phone, spoke softly into it and dropped it back -in the cradle. His eyes stayed on me. - -"How long before they get here?" I asked. - -Maurice narrowed his eyes, not answering. - -"Maybe we have just time enough to make a deal," I said. - -His mouth curved in what might have been a smile. "We'll make a deal -all right, Baby," he said. "You sing loud and clear, and maybe I'll -tell the boys to make it a fast finish." - -"You've got an ace up your sleeve here, Maurice," I urged. "Don't let -that rabble in on it." - -He slapped his palm again. "What have you got in mind, Baby?" - -"I'm on my own," I said. I was thinking fast. "I'll bet you never knew -Brion had a twin brother. He cut me out, though, so I thought I'd cut -myself in." - -Maurice was interested. "The devil," he said. "You haven't seen your -loving twin in a long time, I see." He grinned. I wondered what the -joke was. - -"Let's get out of here," I said. "Let's keep it between us two." - -Maurice glanced at Pinay. - -"Forget him," I said. "He's dead." - -"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Baby?" Maurice said. "Just the two -of us, and maybe then a chance to narrow it back down to one." His -sardonic expression turned suddenly to a snarl, with nostrils flaring. -"By God," he said, "you, you'd plan to kill me, you little man of -straw--" He was leaning toward me now, arm loosening for a swing. I -realized he was insane, ready to kill in an instantaneous fury. - -"You'll see who is the killer between us," he said. His eyes gleamed as -he swung the blackjack loosely in his hand. - -I couldn't wait any longer. The gun popped into my hand, aimed at -Maurice. I felt myself beginning to respond to his murder lust. I hated -everything he stood for. - -"You're stupid, Maurice," I said. "Stupid and slow, and in just a -minute, dead. But first you're going to tell me how you knew I wasn't -Bayard." - -It was a nice try, but wasted. - -Maurice leaped and the slug-gun slapped him aside. He hit and lay limp. -My arm ached from the recoil. Handling the tiny weapon was tricky. It -was good for about fifty shots on a charge; at this rate it wouldn't -last a day. - -I had to get out fast now. I reached up and smashed the ceiling light, -then the table lamp. That might slow them up for a few moments. I eased -out into the hall and started for the dark end. Behind me I heard -the elevator opening. They were here already. I pushed at the glass -door, and it swung open quietly. I didn't wait around to see what -their reaction would be when they found Maurice and Georges. I went -down the stairs two at a time, as softly as I could. I thought of my -communicator and decided against it. I didn't have anything good to -report. - -I passed three landings before I emerged into a hall. This would be the -old roof level. I tried to remember where the stair had come out in the -analogous spot back at Zero Zero. I spotted a small door in an alcove; -it seemed to be in about the right place. - -A man came out of a room across the hall and glanced toward me. I -rubbed my mouth thoughtfully, while heading for the little door. The -resemblance was more of a hindrance than a help now. He went on, and I -tried the door. It was locked, but it didn't look very strong. I put -my hip against it and pushed. It gave way with no more than a mild -splintering sound. The stairs were there, and I headed down. - -I had no plan other than to get in the clear. It was obvious that the -impersonation was a complete flop. All I could do was to get to a safe -place and ask for further instructions. I had gone down two flights -when I heard the alarm bell start. - -I stopped dead. I had to get rid of the fancy uniform. I pulled off the -jacket, then settled for tearing the braid off the wrists, and removing -the shoulder tabs. I couldn't ditch the lapel braid; my microphone was -woven into it. I couldn't do much else about my appearance. - -This unused stair was probably as good a way out as any. I kept going. -I checked the door at each floor. They were all locked. That was a -good sign, I thought. The stair ended in a cul-de-sac filled with -barrels and mildewed paper cartons. I went back up to the next landing -and listened. Beyond the door there were loud voices and the clatter -of feet. I remembered that the entry to the stair was near the main -entrance to the old mansion. It looked like I was trapped. - -I went down again, pulled one of the barrels aside. I peered behind it -at the wall. The edge of a door frame was visible. I maneuvered another -barrel out of place and found the knob. It was frozen. I wondered how -much noise I could make without being heard. Not much, I decided. - -I needed something to pry with. The paper cartons looked like a -possibility; I tore the flaps loose on one and looked in. It was filled -with musty ledger books; no help. - -The next was better. Old silverware, pots and pans. I dug out a heavy -cleaver and slipped it into the crack. The thing was as solid as a bank -vault. I tried again; it couldn't be that strong, but it didn't budge. - -I stepped back. Maybe the only thing to do was forget caution and -chop through the middle. I leaned over to pick the best spot to swing -at--then jumped back flat against the wall, slug-gun in my hand. The -door knob was turning. - - - - - Chapter 8 - - -I was close to panic; being cornered had that effect on me. I didn't -know what to do. I had plenty of instructions on how to handle the job -of taking over after I had succeeded in killing the dictator, but none -to cover retreat after failure. - -There was a creak, and dust sifted down from the top of the door. I -stood as far back as I could get, waiting. I had an impulse to start -shooting, but restrained it. Wait and see. - -The door edged open a crack. I really didn't like this; I was being -looked over, and could see nothing myself. At least I had the -appearance of being unarmed; the tiny gun was concealed in my hand. Or -was that an advantage? I couldn't decide. - -I didn't like suspense. "All right," I said. "You're making a draft. In -or out." I spoke in the gutter Parisian I had heard upstairs. - -The door opened farther, and a grimy-faced fellow was visible beyond -it. He blinked in the dim light, peered up the stairs. He gestured. - -"This way, come on," he said in a hoarse whisper. I didn't see -any reason to refuse under the circumstances. I stepped past the -barrels and ducked through the low doorway. As the man closed the -door, I slipped the gun back into its clip. I was standing in a damp -stone-lined tunnel, lit by an electric lantern sitting on the floor. I -stood with my back to it. I didn't want him to see my face yet, not in -a good light. - -"Who are you?" I asked. - -The fellow pushed past me and picked up his lantern. He hardly glanced -at me. - -"I'm just a dumb guy," he said. "I don't ask no questions, I don't -answer none. Come on." - -I couldn't afford to argue the point so I followed him. We made our way -along the hand-hewn corridor, then down a twisting flight of steps, to -emerge into a dark windowless chamber. Two men and a dark-haired girl -sat around a battered table where a candle spluttered. - -"Call them in, Miche," my guide said. "Here's the pigeon." - -Miche lolled back in his chair and motioned me toward him. He picked up -what looked like a letter-knife from the table and probed between two -back teeth while he squinted at me. I made a point not to get too close. - -"One of the kennel dogs, by the uniform," he said. "What's the matter, -you bit the hand that fed you?" He laughed humorously. - -I said nothing. I thought I'd give him a chance to tell me something -first if he felt like it. - -"A ranker, too, by the braid," he said. "Well, they'll wonder where you -got to." His tone changed. "Let's have the story," he said. "Why are -you on the run?" - -"Don't let the suit bother you," I said. "I borrowed it. But it seemed -like the people up there disliked me on sight." - -"Come on over here," the other man said. "Into the light." - -I couldn't put it off forever. I moved forward, right up to the table. -Just to be sure they got the idea, I picked up the candle and held it -by my face. - -Miche froze, knife point in his teeth. The girl started violently and -crossed herself. The other man stared, fascinated. I'd gone over pretty -big. I put the candle back on the table and sat down casually in the -empty chair. - -"Maybe you can tell me," I said, "why they didn't buy it." - -The second man spoke. "You just walked in like that, sprung it on them?" - -I nodded. - -He and Miche looked at each other. - -"You got a very valuable property here, my friend," the man said. "But -you need a little help. Chica, bring wine for our new friend here." - -The girl, still wide-eyed, scuttled to a dingy cupboard and fumbled for -a bottle, looking at me over her shoulder. - -"Look at him sitting there, Gros," Miche said. "Now that's something." - -"You're right that's something," Gros said. "If it isn't already loused -up." He leaned across the table. "Now just what happened upstairs?" he -said. "How long have you been in the palace? How many have seen you?" - -I gave them a brief outline, leaving out my mode of arrival. They -seemed satisfied. - -"Only two seen his face, Gros," Miche said, "and they're out of the -picture." He turned to me. "That was a nice bit of work, mister, -knocking off Souvet; and nobody ain't going to miss Pinay neither. By -the way, where's the gun? Better let me have it." He held out his hand. - -"I had to leave it," I said. "Tripped and dropped it in the dark." - -Miche grunted. - -"The Boss will be interested in this," Gros said. "He'll want to see -him." - -Someone else panted up the stairs into the room. "Say, Chief," he -began, "we make it trouble in the tower--" He stopped dead as he caught -sight of me, and dropped into a crouch, utter astonishment on his face. -His hand clawed for a gun at his hip, found none, as his eyes darted -from face to face. - -"What--what--" - -Gros and Miche burst into raucous laughter, slapping the table and -howling. "At ease, Spider," Miche managed. "Bayard's throwed in with -us." At this even Chica snickered. - -Spider still crouched. "OK, what's the deal?" he gasped. "I don't get -it." He glared around the room, face white. He was scared stiff. Miche -wiped his face, whooped a last time, hawked and spat on the floor. - -"OK, Spider, as you were," he said. "This here's a ringer. Now you -better go bring in the boys. Beat it." - -Spider scuttled away. I was puzzled. Why did some of them take one -startled look and relax, while this fellow was apparently completely -taken in? I had to find out. There was something I was doing wrong. - -"Do you mind telling me," I said, "what's wrong with the get-up?" Miche -and Gros exchanged glances again. - -"Well, my friend," Gros said, "it's nothing we can't take care of. Just -take it easy, and we'll set you right. You wanted to step in and take -out the Old Man, and sit in for him, right? Well, with the Organization -behind you you're as good as in." - -"What's the Organization?" I asked. - -Miche broke in. "For now we'll ask the questions," he said. "What's -your name? What's your play here?" - -I looked from Miche to Gros. I wondered which one was the boss. "My -name's Bayard," I said. - -Miche narrowed his eyes as he rose and walked around the table. He was -a big fellow with small eyes. - -"I asked you what's your name, mister?" he said. "I don't usually ask -twice." - -"Hold it, Miche," Gros said. "He's right. He's got to stay in this -part, if he's going to be good; and he better be plenty good. Let's -leave it at that; he's Bayard." - -Miche looked at me. "Yeah," he said, "you got a point." I had a feeling -Miche and I weren't going to get along. - -"Who's backing you, uh, Bayard?" Gros said. - -"I play a lone hand," I said. "Up to now, anyway. But it seems I missed -something. If your Organization can get me in, I'll go along." - -"We'll get you in, all right," Miche said. - -I didn't like the looks of this pair of hoodlums, but I could -hardly expect high-toned company here. As far as I could guess, the -Organization was an underground anti-Bayard party. The room seemed -to be hollowed out of the walls of the palace. Apparently they ran a -spying operation all through the building, using hidden passages. - -More men entered the room now, some via the stair, others through a -door in the far corner. Apparently the word had gone out. They gathered -around, staring curiously, commenting to each other, but not surprised. - -"These are the boys," Gros said, looking around at them. "The rats in -the walls." - -I looked them over, about a dozen piratical-looking toughs; Gros had -described them well. I looked back at him. "All right," I said. "Where -do we start?" These weren't the kind of companions I would have chosen, -but if they could fill in the gaps in my disguise for me, and help me -take over in Bayard's place, I could only be grateful for my good luck. - -"Not so fast," Miche said. "This thing is going to take time. We got to -get you to a layout we got out of town. We got a lot of work ahead of -us." - -"I'm here now," I said. "Why not go ahead today? Why leave here?" - -"We got a little work to do on your disguise," Gros said, "and there's -plans to make. How do we get the most out of this break and how do we -make sure there's no wires on this?" - -"And no double-cross," Miche added. - -A hairy lout listening in the crowd spoke up. - -"I don't like the looks of this stool, Miche. I don't like funny stuff. -I say under the floor with him." He wore a worn commando knife in a -sheath fixed horizontally to his belt buckle. I was pretty sure he was -eager to use it. - -Miche looked at me. "Not for now, Gaston," he said. - -Gros rubbed his chin. "Don't get worried about Mr. Bayard, boys," he -said. "We'll have our eyes on him." He glanced up at Gaston. "You might -make a special effort along those lines, Gaston; but don't get ahead of -yourself. Let's say if he has any kind of accident, you'll have a worse -one." - -The feel of the spring under my wrist was comforting. I felt that -Gaston wasn't the only one in this crew who didn't like strangers. - -"I figure time is important," I said. "Let's get moving." - -Miche stepped over to me. He prodded my leg with his boot. "You got a -flappy mouth, mister," he said. "Gros and me gives the orders around -here." - -"OK," Gros said. "Our friend has got a lot to learn, but he's right -about the time. Bayard's due back here sometime tomorrow, so that means -we get out today, if we don't want the Ducals all over the place on top -of the regulars. Miche, get the boys moving. I want things folded fast -and quiet, and good men on the stand-by crew." - -He turned to me as Miche bawled orders to the men. - -"Maybe you better have a little food now," he said. "It's going to be a -long day." - -I was startled. I had been thinking of it as night. I looked at my -watch. It had been one hour and ten minutes since I had entered the -palace. Doesn't time go fast, I thought to myself, when everyone's -having fun. - -Chica brought over a loaf of bread and a wedge of brown cheese from the -cupboard, and placed them on the table with a knife. I was cautious. - -"OK if I pick up the knife?" I asked. - -"Sure," Gros said. "Go ahead." He reached under the table and laid a -short-nosed revolver before him. - -Miche came back to the table as I chewed on a slice of tough bread. It -was good bread. I tried the wine. It wasn't bad. The cheese was good, -too. - -"You eat well," I said. "This is good." - -Chica threw me a grateful smile. "We do all right," Gros said. - -"Better get Mouth here out of that fancy suit," Miche said, jerking his -head at me. "Somebody might just take a shot at that without thinking. -The boys have got kind of nervous about them kind of suits." - -Gros looked at me. "That's right," he said. "Miche will give you some -other clothes. That uniform don't go over so big here." - -I didn't like this development at all. My communicator was built into -the scrambled eggs on my lapels. I had to say no and make it stick. - -"Sorry," I said. "I keep the outfit. It's part of the act. I'll put a -coat over it if necessary." - -Miche put his foot against my chair and shoved; I saw it coming and -managed to scramble to my feet instead of going over with the chair. -Miche faced me. - -"Strip, mister," he said. "You heard the man." - -The men still in the room fell silent, watching. I looked at Miche. I -hoped Gros would speak up. I couldn't see anything to be gained by this. - -Nobody spoke. I glanced over at Gros. He was just looking at us. - -Miche reached behind, brought out a knife. The blade snicked out. "Or -do I have to cut it off you," he growled. - -"Put the knife away, Miche," Gros said mildly. "You don't want to cut -up our secret weapon here; and we want the uniform off all in one -piece." - -"Yeah," Miche said. "You got a point." He dropped the knife on the -table and moved in on me. From his practiced crouch and easy shuffling -step, I saw that he had been a professional. - -I decided not to wait for him. I threw myself forward with my weight -behind a straight left to the jaw. It caught Miche by surprise, slammed -against his chin and rocked him back. I tried to follow up, catch him -again while he was still off balance, but he was a veteran of too many -fights. He covered up, back-pedalled, shook his head, and then flicked -out with a right that exploded against my temple. I was almost out, -staggering. He hit me again, square on the nose. Blood flowed. - -I wouldn't last long against this bruiser. The crowd was still bunched -at the far end of the room, moving this way, now, watching delightedly, -calling encouragement to Miche. Gros still sat, and Chica stared from -her place by the wall. - -I moved back, dazed, dodging blows. I had only one chance and I needed -a dark corner to try it. Miche was right after me. He was mad; he -didn't like that smack on the jaw in front of the boys. That helped me. -He forgot boxing and threw one haymaker after another. He wanted to -floor me with one punch to retrieve his dignity. I dodged and retreated. - -I moved back toward the deep shadows at the end of the room, beyond -Chica's pantry. I had to get there quickly, before the watching crowd -closed up the space. - -Miche swung again, left, right. I heard the air whistle as his hamlike -fist grazed me. I backed another step; almost far enough. Now to get -between him and the rest of the room. I jumped in behind a wild swing, -popped a stinging right off his ear, and kept going. I whirled, snapped -the slug-gun into my hand, and as Miche lunged, I shot him in the -stomach, faked a wild swinging attack as he bounced off the wall and -fell full length at my feet. I slipped the gun back into my cuff and -turned. - -"I can't see," a man shouted. "Get some light down here." The mob -pushed forward, forming a wide ring. They stopped as they saw that only -I was on my feet. - -"Miche is down," a man called. "The new guy took him." - -Gros pushed his way through, hesitated, then walked over to the -sprawled body of Miche. He squatted, beckoned to the man with the -candle. - -He pulled Miche over on his back, then looked closer, feeling for the -heartbeat. He looked up abruptly, got to his feet. - -"He dead," he said. "Miche is dead." He looked at me with a strange -expression. "It's quite a punch you got, mister," he said. - -"I tried not to use it," I said. "But I'll use it again if I have to." - -"Search him, boys," Gros said. They prodded and slapped, everywhere but -my wrist. "He's clean, Gros," a man said. Gros looked the body over -carefully, searching for signs of a wound. Men crowded around him. - -"No marks," he said at last. "Broken ribs, and it feels like something -funny inside; all messed up." He looked at me. "He did it barehanded." - -I hoped they would go on believing that. It was my best insurance -against a repetition. I wanted them scared of me, and the ethics of it -didn't bother me at all. - -"All right," Gros called to the men. "Back on the job. Miche asked for -it. He called our new man 'Mouth.' I'm naming him 'Hammer-hand'." - -I thought this was as good a time as any to push a little farther. - -"You'd better tell them I'm taking over Miche's spot here, Gros," I -said. "We'll work together, fifty-fifty." - -Gros squinted at me. "Yeah, that figures," he said. I had a feeling he -had mental reservations. - -"And by the way," I added, "I keep the uniform." - -"Yeah," Gros said. "He keeps the uniform." He turned back to the men. -"We pull out of here in thirty minutes. Get moving." - - * * * * * - -There was a ragged streak of light showing at the end of the dark -tunnel. Gros signalled a halt. The men bunched up, filling the cramped -passage. - -"Most of you never came this way before," he said. "So listen. We push -out of here into the Street of the Olive Trees; it's a little side -street under the palace wall. There's a dummy stall in front; ignore -the old dame in it. - -"Ease out one at a time, and move off east; that's to the right. You -all got good papers. If the guy on the gate asks for them, show them. -Don't get eager and volunteer. If there's any excitement behind, just -keep going. We rendezvous at the Thieves' Market. OK--and duck the -hardware." - -He motioned the first man out, blinking in the glare as the ragged -tarpaulin was pushed aside. After half a minute, the second followed. I -moved close to Gros. - -"Why bring this whole mob along?" I asked in a low voice. "Wouldn't it -be a lot easier for just a few of us?" - -Gros shook his head. "I want to keep my eye on these slobs," he said. -"I don't know what ideas they might get if I left them alone a few -days; and I can't afford to have this set-up poisoned. And I'm going to -need them out at the country place. There's nothing they can do here -while I'm not around to tell them." - -It sounded fishy to me, but I let it drop. All the men passed by us and -disappeared. There was no alarm. - -"OK," Gros said. "Stay with me." He slipped under the mouldy hanging -and I followed as he stepped past a broken-down table laden with -pottery. An old crone huddled on a stool ignored us. Gros glanced -out into the narrow dusty street, then pushed off into the crowd. We -threaded our way through loud-talking, gesticulating customers, petty -merchants crouched over fly-covered displays of food or dog-eared -magazines, tottering beggars, grimy urchins. The dirt street was -littered with refuse; starving dogs wandered listlessly through the -crowd. No one paid the least attention to us. It appeared we'd get -through without trouble. - -Under a heavy cloak Gros had given me, I was sweating. Flies buzzed -about my swollen face. A whining beggar thrust a gaunt hand at me. Gros -ducked between two fat men engaged in an argument. As they moved, I had -to side-step and push past them. Gros was almost out of sight in the -mob. - -I saw a uniform suddenly, a hard-faced fellow in yellowish khaki -pushing roughly through the press ahead. A chicken fluttered up, -squawking in my face. There was a shout; people began milling, -thrusting against me. I caught a glimpse of Gros, face turned toward -the soldier, eyes wide in a pale face. He started to run. In two jumps -the uniformed man had him by the shoulder, spun him around, shouting. -A dog yelped, banged against my legs, scuttled away. The soldier's arm -rose and fell, clubbing at Gros with a heavy riot stick. - -Far ahead I heard a shot, and almost instantly another, close. Gros -was free and running, blood on his head, as the soldier fell among the -crowd. I darted along the wall, trying to overtake Gros, or at least -keep him in sight. The crowd was opening, making way as he ran, pistol -in hand. He fired again, the shot a faint pop in the mob noise. - -Another uniform jumped in front of me, club raised; I shied, threw up -an arm, as the man jumped back, saluted. - -I caught the words, "Pardon, sir," as I went past him at a run. He must -have caught a glimpse of the uniform I wore. - -Ahead, Gros fell in the dust, scrambled to his knees, head down. A -soldier stepped out of an alley, aimed, and shot him through the head. -Gros lurched, collapsed, rolled on his back. The dust caked in the -blood on his face. The crowd closed in. From the moment they spotted -him, he didn't have a chance. - -I stopped. I was trying to remember what Gros had told the men. I had -made the bad mistake of assuming too much, thinking I would have Gros -to lead me out of this. There was something about a gate; everyone had -papers, Gros said. All but me. That was why they had had to come out in -daylight, I realized suddenly. The gate probably closed at sundown. - -I moved on, not wanting to attract attention by standing still. I tried -to keep the cloak around me to conceal the uniform. I didn't want any -more soldiers noticing it; the next one might not be in such a hurry. - -Gros had told the men to rendezvous at the Thieves' Market. I tried -to remember Algiers from a three-day visit years before; all I could -recall was the Casbah and the well-lit streets of the European shopping -section. - -I passed the spot where a jostling throng craned to see the body of -the soldier, kept going. Another ring surrounded the spot where Gros -lay dead. Now there were soldiers everywhere, swinging their sticks -carelessly, breaking up the mob. I shuffled, head down, dodged a -backhanded swipe, found myself in the open. The street sloped up, -curving to the left. There were still a few cobbles on this part, fewer -shops and stalls. Wash hung from railings around tiny balconies above -the street. - -I saw the gate ahead. A press of people packed against it, while a -soldier examined papers. Three more uniformed men stood by, looking -toward the scene of the excitement. - -I went on toward the gate. I couldn't turn back now. There was a new -wooden watch tower scabbed onto the side of the ancient brick wall -where the sewer drained under it. A carbon arc searchlight and a man -with a burp gun slung over his shoulder were on top of it. I thought I -saw one of the Organization men ahead in the crowd at the gate. - -One of the soldiers was staring at me. He straightened, glanced at the -man next to him. The other soldier was looking, too, now. I decided a -bold front was the only chance. I beckoned to one of the men, allowing -the cloak to uncover the front of the uniform briefly. He moved toward -me, still in doubt. I hoped my battered face didn't look familiar. - -"Snap it up, soldier," I said in my best _Ecole Militaire_ tone; he -halted before me, saluted. I didn't give him a chance to take the -initiative. - -"The best part of the catch made it through the gate before you fools -closed the net," I snapped. "Get me through there fast, and don't call -any more attention to me. I'm not wearing this flea-circus for fun." I -flipped the cloak. - -He turned and pushed through to the gate, and said a word to the other -soldier, gestured toward me. The other man, wearing sergeant's stripes, -looked at me. - -I glared at him as I approached. "Ignore me," I hissed. "You foul this -up and I'll see you shot." - -I brushed past him, thrust through the gate as the first soldier opened -it. I walked on, listening for a sound of a round snapping into the -chamber of that burp gun on the tower. A goat darted out of an alley, -stared at me. Sweat rolled down my cheek. There was a tree ahead, with -a black shadow under it. I wondered if I'd ever get that far. - -I made it, and breathed a little easier. - -I still had problems, plenty of them. Right now I had to find the -Thieves' Market. I had a vague memory of such a thing from the past, -but I had no idea where it was. I moved along the road, past a -weathered stuccoed building with a slatternly taverns downstairs and -sagging rooms above, bombed out at the far end. The gate was out of -sight now. - -Ahead were more bomb-scarred tenements, ruins, and beyond open fields. -There was a river in sight to the right. A few people were in view, -moving listlessly in the morning heat. They seemed to ignore the hubbub -within the walled town. I couldn't risk asking any of them for the -place I sought; I didn't know who might be a police informer, or a cop, -for that matter. They had been ready for us, I realized. - -Gros wasn't as well-hidden as he had thought. Probably the police could -have cleared his outfit from the palace at any time; I suspected they -had tolerated them against such a time as now. The ambush had been -neat. I wondered if any of the boys had made it through the gate. - -Apparently word had not gone out to be on the alert for a man -impersonating an officer; I didn't know how much Maurice had said when -he telephoned for his men, but my bluff at the gate indicated no one -had been warned of my disguise. - -I paused. Maybe my best bet would be to try the tavern, order a drink, -try to pick up something. I saw nothing ahead that looked encouraging. - -I walked back fifty feet to the doorless entrance to the bistro. There -was no one in sight. I walked in, barely able to make out the positions -of the tables and chairs in the gloom. The glassless windows were -shuttered. I blinked, made out the shape of the bar. Outside the door, -the dusty road glared white. - -A hoarse-breathing fellow loomed up behind the bar. He didn't say -anything. - -"Red wine," I said. - -He put a water glass on the bar and filled it from a tin dipper. I -tasted it. It was horrible. I had a feeling good manners would be out -of place here, so I turned and spat it on the floor. - -I pushed the glass across the bar. "I want wine," I said. "Not what you -wring out of the bar rag." I dropped a worn thousand franc note on the -bar. - -He muttered as he turned away, and was still muttering when he shuffled -back with a sealed bottle and a wine glass. He drew the cork, poured my -glass half full, and put the thousand francs in his pocket. He didn't -offer me any change. - -I tried it; it wasn't too bad. I stood sipping, and waited for my -eyes to get used to the dim light. The bartender moved away and began -pulling a pile of boxes, grunting hard. - -I didn't have a clear idea of what to do if I did find the survivors -of the Organization. At best I might find out what was wrong with the -disguise, and use their channels to get back into the palace. I could -always call for help on my communicator, and have myself set back -inside via shuttle, but I didn't like the idea of risking that again. I -had almost been caught arriving last time. The scheme couldn't possibly -work if any suspicion was aroused. - -A man appeared in the doorway, silhouetted against the light. He -stepped in and came over to the bar. The bartender ignored him. - -Two more came through the door, walked past me and leaned on the bar -below me. The bartender continued to shuffle boxes, paying no attention -to his customers. I started to wonder why. - -The man nearer me moved closer. "Hey, you," he said. He jerked his head -toward the gate. "You hear the shooting back there?" - -That was a leading question. I wondered if the sound of the shots had -been audible outside the walls of the fortified town. I grunted. - -"Who they after?" he said. - -I tried to see his face, but it was shadowed. He was a thin broad -fellow, leaning on one elbow. Here we go again, I thought. - -"How would I know?" I said. - -"Kind of warm for that burnoose, ain't it?" he said. He stretched out a -hand as if to touch the tattered cape. I stepped back, and two pairs of -arms wrapped around me in a double bear-hug from behind. - -The man facing me twitched the cape open. He looked at me. - -"Lousy Ducal," he said, and hit me across the mouth with the back of -his hand. I tasted blood. - -"Hold on to them arms," another man said, coming around from behind me. -This was one I hadn't seen. I wondered how many more men were in the -room. The new man took the old military cape in his hands and ripped it -off me. - -"Look at that," he said. "We got us a lousy general." He dug his -finger under the top of the braided lapel of my blouse and yanked. The -lapel tore but stayed put. I started to struggle then; that was my -communicator they were about to loot for the gold wire on it. I didn't -have much hope of getting loose that way, but maybe it would distract -them if I kicked a little. I swung a boot and caught the rangy one -under the kneecap. He yelped and jumped back, then swung at my face. I -twisted away, and the blow grazed my cheek. I threw myself backward, -jerking hard, trying to throw someone off balance. - -"Hold him," a man hissed. They were trying not to make too much noise. -The thin man moved in close, watched his chance and slammed a fist into -my stomach. The pain was agonizing; I cramped up, retching. - -The men holding me dragged me to a wall, flung me upright against it, -arms outspread. The fellow who wanted the braid stepped up with a knife -in his hand. I was trying to breathe, wheezing and twisting. He grabbed -my hair, and for a moment I thought he was going to slit my throat. -Instead, he sawed away at lapels, cursing as the blade scraped wire. - -"Get the buttons, too, Beau Joe," a husky voice suggested. - -The pain was fading a little now, but I sagged, acting weaker than I -actually was. The communicator was gone, at least the sending end. All -I could try to salvage now was my life. - -The buttons took only a moment. The man with the knife stepped back, -slipping it into a sheath at his hip. He favored the leg I had kicked. -I could see his face now. He had straight fine features. - -"OK, let him go," he said. I slumped to the floor. For the first time -my hands were free. Now maybe I had a chance; I still had the gun. I -got shakily to hands and knees, watching him. He aimed a kick at my -ribs. - -"On your feet, General," he said. "I'll teach you to kick your betters." - -The others laughed, called out advice, shuffled around us in a circle. -There was an odor of dust and sour wine. - -"That General's a real fighter, ain't he?" somebody called. "Fights -sittin' down." That went over big. Lots of happy laughter. - -I grabbed the foot as it came to me, twisted it hard, and threw the -man to the floor. He swore loudly, lunged at me, but I was up again, -backing away. The ring opened and somebody pushed me. I let myself -stumble and gained a few more feet toward the shadowed corner. I could -see better now, enough to see pistols and knives in every belt. If they -had any idea I was armed, they'd use them. I had to wait. - -Beau Joe was after me again, throwing a roundhouse left. I ducked it, -then caught a couple of short ones. I stepped back two paces, glanced -at the audience; they were as far away as I'd get them. It was time to -make my play. The man shielded me as the slug-gun popped into my hand, -but at that instant he swung a savage kick. It was just luck; he hadn't -seen the tiny weapon, but the gun spun into a dark corner. Now I wasn't -acting any more. - -I went after him, slammed a hard left to his face, followed with a -right to the stomach, then straightened him out with another left. He -was a lousy boxer. - -The others didn't like it; they closed in and grabbed me. Knuckles -bounced off my jaw as a fist rammed into my back. Two of them ran me -backwards and sent me crashing against the wall. My head rang; I was -stunned. I fell down and they let me lie. I needed the rest. - -To hell with secrecy, I thought. I got to my knees and started -crawling toward the corner. The men laughed and shouted, forgetting -about being quiet now. - -"Crawl, General," one shouted, "Crawl, you lousy spy." - -"Hup, two, soldier," another sallied. "By the numbers, crawl." - -That was a good one; they roared, slapped each other. Beau Joe had -picked himself up and started for me now. Where the hell was that gun? - -He grabbed my jacket, hauled me to my feet as I groped for him. My -head spun; I must have a concussion, I thought. He jabbed at me, but I -leaned on him, and he couldn't get a good swing. The others laughed at -him, now, enjoying the farce. - -"Watch him, Beau Joe," someone called. "He's liable to wake up, with -you shakin' him that way." - -Beau Joe stepped back, and aimed a straight right at my chin, but I -dropped and headed for the corner again; that was where the gun went. -He kicked me again, sent me sprawling into the wall--and my hand fell -on the gun. - -I rolled over, and Beau Joe yanked me up, spun me around, and stepped -back. I stood, slumped in the corner, watching him. He was enjoying -it now. He mouthed words silently, grinning in spite of his bleeding -mouth. He intended to keep me propped there in the corner and beat me -to death. As he came to me, I raised the gun and shot him in the face. - -I wished I hadn't; he did a back-flip, landed head first, but not -before I caught a glimpse of the smashed face. Joe was not beau any -more. - -I held my hand loosely at my side, waiting for the next comer. The same -fellow who had grabbed me before rushed up. He jumped the body and -twisted to deliver a skull-crusher. I raised the gun a few inches as he -leaped and I fired at his belly. The shot made a hollow whop, as the -man's feet left the floor. He smashed into the wall as I side-stepped. - -The other three fanned out. It was too dark to see clearly here, and -they didn't yet realize what had happened. They thought I had downed -the two men with my fists. They were going to jump me together and -finish it off. - -"Freeze, bunnies!" a voice said from the door. We all looked. A hulking -brute stood outlined there, and the gun in his hand was visible. - -"I can see you rats," he said. "I'm used to the dark. Don't try -nothing." He beckoned a man behind him forward. One of the three in -the room edged toward the rear, and the gun coughed, firing through a -silencer. The man slammed sideways, and sprawled. - -"Come on, Hammer-hand," the big man said. "Let's get out of here." He -spat into the room. "These pigeons don't want to play no more." - -I recognized the voice of Gaston, the big fellow who had wanted to bury -me under the floor. Gros had appointed him my bodyguard, but he was -a little late. I had taken a terrible beating. I tucked the gun away -clumsily and lurched forward. - -"Cripes, Hammer-hand," Gaston said, stepping forward to steady me. "I -didn't know them bunnies had got to you; I thought you were stringing -them. I was wondering when you was going to make music with that punch." - -He paused to stare down at Beau Joe. - -"You pushed his mush right in," he said admiringly. "Hey, Touhey, get -Hammer-hand's wrap-around, and let's move." He glanced once more around -the room. - -"So long, bunnies," he said. The two men didn't answer. - - - - - Chapter 9 - - -I don't remember much about my trip to the Organization's hideout -in the country. I recall walking endlessly, and later being carried -over Gaston's shoulder. I remember terrific heat, and agonizing pain -from my battered face, my half-healed gunshot wounds, and innumerable -bruises. And I remember at last a cool room, and a soft bed. - -I awoke slowly, dreams blending with memories, none of them pleasant. I -lay on my back, propped up on enormous fluffy feather bolsters, with a -late afternoon sun lighting the room through partly-drawn drapes over -a wide dormer window. For a while I struggled to decide where I was. -Gradually I recalled my last conscious thought. - -This was the place in the country Gros had been headed for. Gaston had -taken his charge seriously, in spite of his own suggestion that I be -disposed of and although Miche and Gros were dead. - -I moved tentatively, and caught my breath. That hurt, too. My chest, -ribs and stomach were one great ache. I pushed the quilt down and tried -to examine the damage. Under the edges of a broad tape wrapping, purple -bruises showed all around my right side. - -Bending my neck had been a mistake; now the bullet wound that Maurice -had re-opened with the blackjack began to throb. I was a mess. I didn't -risk moving my face; I knew what it must look like. - -As a secret-service type, I was a complete bust, I thought. My -carefully prepared disguise had fooled no one, except maybe Spider. I -had been subjected to more kicks, blows, and threats of death in the -few hours I had been in the dictator's realm than in all my previous -42 years, and I had accomplished exactly nothing. I had lost my -communicator, and now my slug-gun too; the comforting pressure under -my wrist had gone. It wouldn't have helped me much anyway; I was dizzy -from the little effort I had just expended. - -Maybe I had made some progress, though, in a negative way. I knew that -walking in and striking a pose wasn't good enough to get by as the -Dictator Bayard, in spite of the face. And I had also learned that the -dictator's regime was riddled with subversives and malcontents. Perhaps -we could somehow use the latter to our advantage. - -If, I thought, I can get back with the information. I thought that -over. How would I get back? I had no way of communicating. I was -completely on my own now. - -Always before I had had the knowledge that in the end I could send out -a call for help, and count on rescue within an hour. Richthofen had -arranged for a 24-hour monitoring of my communications band, alert -for my call. Now that was out. If I was to return to the Imperium, I -would have to steal one of the crude shuttles of this world, or better, -commandeer one as dictator. I had to get back into the palace, with a -correct disguise, or end my days in this nightmare world. - -I heard voices approaching outside the room. I closed my eyes as the -door opened. I might learn a little by playing possum, if I could get -away with it. - -The voices were lower now, and I sensed several people coming over to -stand by the bed. - -"How long has he been asleep?" a new voice asked. Or was it new? It -seemed familiar somehow, but I connected it with some other place. - -"Doc gave him some shots," someone answered. "We brought him in this -time yesterday." - -There was a pause. Then the half-familiar voice again. "I don't like -his being alive. However--perhaps we can make use of him." - -"Gros wanted him alive," another voice said. I recognized Gaston. He -sounded sullen. "He had big plans for him." - -The other voice grunted. There was a silence for a few moments. - -"He's no good to us until the face is healed. Keep him here until I -send along further instructions." - -I hadn't liked what I heard, but for the present I had no choice but to -lie here and try to regain my strength. At least, I was comfortably set -up in this huge bed. I drifted off to sleep again. - -I awoke with Gaston sitting by the bed, smoking. He sat up when I -opened my eyes, crushed out his cigarette in an ash tray on the table, -and leaned forward. - -"How are you feeling, Hammer-hand?" he said. - -"Rested," I said. My voice came out in a faint whisper. I was surprised -at its weakness. - -"Yeah, them pigeons give you a pretty rough time, Hammer-hand. I don't -know why you didn't lay the punch on them sooner. - -"I got some chow here for you," Gaston said. He put a tray from the -bedside table on his lap and offered me a spoonful of soup. I was -hungry; I opened my mouth for it. I never expected to have a gorilla -for a nursemaid, I thought. - -Gaston was good at his work, though. For the next three days he fed -me regularly, changed my bedding, and performed all the duties of -a trained nurse with skill, if not with grace. I steadily gained -strength, but I was careful to conceal the extent of my progress from -Gaston and the others who occasionally came in. I didn't know what -might be coming up and I wanted something in reserve. - -Gaston told me a lot about the Organization during the next few days. -I learned that the group led by Gros and Miche was only one of several -such cells; there were hundreds of members, in half a dozen scattered -locations in Algeria, each keeping surveillance over some vital -installation of the regime. Their ultimate objective was the overthrow -of Bayard's rule, enabling them to get a share in the loot. - -Each group had two leaders, all of whom reported to the Big Boss, a -stranger about whom Gaston knew little. He appeared irregularly, and -no one knew his name or where he had his headquarters. I sensed that -Gaston didn't like him. - -On the third day I asked Gaston to help me get up and walk a bit. I -faked extreme weakness, but was pleased to discover that I was feeling -better than I had hoped. After Gaston helped me back into bed and left -the room, I got up again, and practiced walking. It made me dizzy and -nauseous but I leaned on the bed post and waited for my stomach to -settle down, and went on. I stayed on my feet for fifteen minutes, -and slept soundly afterwards. Thereafter, whenever I awoke, day or -night, I rose and walked, jumping back into bed when I heard footsteps -approaching. - -When Gaston insisted on walking me after that, I continued to feign -all the symptoms I had felt the first time. The doctor was called back -once, but he assured me that my reactions were quite normal, and that I -could not expect to show much improvement for another week, considering -the amount of blood I had lost. This suited me perfectly. I needed time -to learn more. - -I tried to pump Gaston about my disguise, subtly; I didn't want to put -him on his guard, or give him any inkling of what I had in mind. But I -was too subtle; Gaston avoided the subject. - -I searched for my clothes, but the closet was locked and I couldn't -risk forcing the door. - -A week after my arrival, I allowed myself enough improvement to permit -a walk through the house, and down into a pleasant garden behind it. -The layout of the house was simple. From the garden I had seen no -signs of guards. It looked as though I could walk out any time, but I -restrained the impulse. - -By the time ten days had passed, I was getting very restless. I -couldn't fake my role of invalid much longer without arousing -suspicion. The inactivity was getting on my nerves; I had spent the -night lying awake, thinking, and getting up occasionally to walk up -and down the room. By dawn, I had succeeded in fatiguing myself, but I -hadn't slept at all. - -I had to be doing something. I got out my canes, and reconnoitred the -house after Gaston had taken away my breakfast tray. From the upstairs -windows I had a wide view of the surrounding country. The front of the -house faced a paved highway, in good repair. I assumed it was a main -route into Algiers. Behind the house, tilled fields stretched a quarter -of a mile to a row of trees. Perhaps there was a river there. There -were no other houses near. - -I thought about leaving. It looked to me as though my best bet would be -to go over the wall after dark and head for the cover of the trees. I -had the impression that the line of trees and the road converged to the -west, so perhaps I could regain the road at a distance from the house, -and follow it into the city. I went back to my room to wait. - -It was almost dinner time when I heard someone approaching my door. I -was lying down, so I stayed where I was and waited. Gaston entered with -the doctor. The doctor was pale, and perspiring heavily. He avoided -my eyes as he drew out a chair, sat down and started his examination. -He said nothing to me, ignoring the questions I asked him. I gave up -and lay silently while he prodded and poked. After a while he rose -suddenly, packed up his kit, and walked out. - -"What's the matter with the doc, Gaston?" I asked. - -"He's got something on his mind," Gaston said. Even Gaston seemed -subdued. Something was up; something that worried me. - -"Come on, Gaston," I said. "What's going on?" - -At first I thought he wasn't going to answer me. - -"They're going to do like you wanted," he said. "They're getting ready -to put you in for Bayard." - -"That's fine," I said. That was what I had come here for. This way was -as good as any. But there was something about it. - -"Why all the secrecy?" I asked. "Why doesn't the Big Boss show himself? -I'd like to talk to him." - -Gaston hesitated. I had the feeling he wanted to say more, but couldn't. - -"They got a few details to fix yet," he said. He didn't look at me. I -let it go at that. - -After Gaston left the room, I went out into the hall. Through the -open back windows I heard the sound of conversation. I moved over to -eavesdrop. - -There were three men, strolling out into the garden with their backs to -me. One was the doctor; I didn't recognize the other two. I wished I -could see their faces. - -"It was not for this I was trained," the doctor was saying. He waved -his hands in an agitated way. "I'm not a butcher, to cut up a side of -mutton for you." - -I couldn't make out the reply. - -I went down to the landing and listened. All was quiet. I descended -to the hall on the ground floor, listened again. Somewhere a clock was -ticking. - -I went into the main dining room; the table was set for three, but -no food was in sight. I tried the other dining room; nothing. I went -across and eased the parlor door open. There was no one there; it -looked as unused as ever. - -I passed the door I had found locked once before and noticed light -under it. I stepped back and tried it. It was probably a broom closet, -I thought as I turned the knob. It opened. - -I stood staring. There was a padded white table in the center of the -room. At one end stood two floodlamps on tall tripods. Glittering -instruments were laid out on a small table. On a stand beside the -operating table lay scalpels, sutures, heavy curved needles. There was -a finely made saw, like a big hacksaw, and heavy snippers. On the floor -beneath the table was a large galvanized steel wash tub. - -I didn't understand this; I turned to the door--and heard footsteps -approaching. - -I looked around, saw a door, jumped to it and jerked it open. When the -two men entered the room, I was standing rigid in the darkness of the -storeroom, with the door open half an inch. - -The floodlights flicked on, then off again. There was a rattle of metal -against metal. - -"Lay off that," a nasal voice said. "This is all set. I checked it over -myself." - -"They're nuts," Nasal-voice said. "Why don't they wait until morning, -when they got plenty sunlight for this? No, they gotta work under the -lights." - -"I don't get this deal," a thin voice said. "I didn't get what was -supposed to be wrong with this guy's legs, they got to take them off. -How come if he's--" - -"You ain't clued in, are you, Mac?" Nasal-voice said harshly. "This is -a big deal; they're going to ring this mug in when they knock off the -Old Man." - -"Yeah, that's what I mean," Thin-voice cut in. "So what's the idea they -take off the legs?" - -"You don't know much, do you, small-timer?" Nasal-voice said. "Well, -listen; I got news for you." There was a pause. - -"Bayard's got no pins, from the knees down." Nasal spoke in a hushed -tone. "You didn't know that, did you? That's why you never seen him -walking around on the video; he's always sitting back of a desk. - -"There ain't very many people know about that," he added. "Keep it to -yourself." - -"Cripes," Thin-voice said. His voice was thinner than ever. "Got no -legs?" - -"That's right. I was with him a year before the landing. I was in his -outfit when he got it. Machine gun slug, through both knees. Now forget -about it. But maybe now you get the set-up." - -"Cripes," Thin-voice said. "Where did they get a guy crazy enough to go -into a deal like this?" - -"How do I know," the other said. He sounded as though he regretted -having told the secret. "These revolutionist types is all nuts anyway." - -I stood there feeling sick. My legs tingled. I knew now why nobody -mistook me for the dictator, as I walked into a room; and why Spider -had been taken in, when he saw me sitting. - -I was leaving now. Not tomorrow, not tonight; now. I had no gun, no -papers, no map, no plans, but I was leaving. - -It was almost dark; I went to the back of the house. Through a window -I could see the men in the garden standing under a small cherry tree -in the gloom, still talking. I found a door, and examined it in the -failing light. It was the type that opens in two sections. The upper -one was locked, but the lower half swung silently open--below the line -of vision of the men outside. I bent over and stepped through. - -A short path led off to the drive beside the house; I ignored it and -crept along beside the wall, through weed-grown flower beds. - -I turned to start out across the plowed field and a dark form rose up -before me. I recoiled, my wrist twitching in a gesture that had become -automatic; but no slug-gun snapped into my hand. I was unarmed, weak, -and shaken, and the man loomed over me, hulking. - -"Let's go, Hammer-hand," he whispered. It was Gaston. - -"I'm leaving, Gaston," I said. "Just don't try to stop me." Vague ideas -of a bluff were in my mind. After all, he called me Hammer-hand. - -He came after me. "Hold it down to a roar," he said. "I wondered when -you was going to make your break. You been getting pretty restless -these last few days." - -"Yeah," I said. "Who wouldn't?" I was just stalling; I had no plan. - -"You got more nerve than me, Hammer-hand," Gaston said. "I would of -took off a week ago. You must of wanted to get a look at the Big Boss -real bad to stick as long as you did." - -"I saw enough today," I said. "I don't want to see any more." - -"Do you make him?" Gaston asked. He sounded interested. - -"No," I said. "I didn't see his face. But I've lost my curiosity." - -Gaston laughed. "OK, chief," he said. He handed me a soiled card, with -something scribbled on it. "Maybe this will do you some good. It's the -Big Boss's address out of town. I swiped it; it was all I could find. -Now let's blow out of here." - -I stuck the card in my pocket. I was a little confused. - -"Wait a minute, Gaston; you mean you're helping me get away?" - -"Gros said I was supposed to keep an eye on you, look out you didn't -have no accident," Gaston said. "I always done all right doing what my -brother told me; I don't see no reason to stop now just because they -killed him." - -"Your brother," I said. - -"Gros was my brother," Gaston said. "I ain't smart like Gros, but he -always took care of me. I always done what he said. He told me to look -out for you, Hammer-hand." - -"What about them?" I asked, nodding toward the house. "They won't like -it when they find us both missing." - -Gaston spat. "To hell with them monkeys," he said. "They gimme the -willies." - -I was beginning to feel jolly all of a sudden, by reaction. - -"Listen, Gaston; can you go back in there and get the clothes I had on -when I got here?" - -Gaston fumbled in the dark at a sack slung over his shoulder. "I -thought you might want that suit, Hammer-hand," he said. "You was real -particular about that with Miche." He handed me a bundle. I knew the -feel of it. It was the uniform. - -"Gaston," I said. "You're a wonder. I don't suppose you brought along -the little gimmick I had on my wrist?" - -"I think I stuck it in the pocket," he said. "Somebody swiped the fancy -gloves you had in the belt, though. I'm sorry about the gloves." - -I fumbled over the blouse, and felt the lump in the pocket. With that -slug-gun in my hand I was ready to lick the world. - -"That's OK about the gloves, Gaston," I said. I strapped the clip to -my wrist and tucked the gun away. I pulled off the old coat I wore and -slipped the blouse on. This was more like it. - -I looked at the house. All was peaceful. It was dark enough now that we -wouldn't be seen crossing the field. It was time to go. - -"Come on," I said. I took a sight on a bright star and struck out -across the soft ground. - -In fifty steps the house was completely lost to view. The wall and high -foliage obscured the lights on the first floor; upstairs the house was -in darkness. I kept the star before me and stumbled on. I never knew -how hard it was to walk in a plowed field in the dark. - -It was fifteen minutes before I made out a deeper darkness against the -faintly lighter sky ahead. That would be the line of trees along the -river; I was still assuming there was a river. - -Then we were among the trees, feeling our way slowly. The ground -sloped and the next moment I was sliding down a muddy bank into shallow -water. - -"Yes," I said, "it's a river all right." I scrambled out, and stood -peering toward the west. I could see nothing. If we had to pick our way -through trees all night, without a moon, we wouldn't be a mile away by -dawn. - -"Which way does this river flow, Gaston?" I asked. - -"That way," he said. "To Algiers--into the city." - -"Can you swim?" I asked. - -"Sure," Gaston replied. "I can swim good." - -"OK," I said. "Strip and make a bundle of your clothes. Put whatever -you don't want to get wet in the middle; strap the bundle to your -shoulders with your belt." - -We grunted and fumbled in the darkness. - -I finished my packing and stepped down into the water. It was warm -weather; that was a break. I still had the slug-gun on my wrist. I -wanted it close to me. - -I stepped out into the stream, pushed off as the bottom shelved. I -paddled a few strokes to get clear of the reeds growing near the shore. -All around was inky blackness, with only the brilliant stars overhead -to relieve the emptiness. - -"OK, Gaston?" I called. - -I heard him splashing quietly. - -"Sure," he said. - -"Let's go out a little farther and then take it easy," I said. "Let the -river do the work." - - - - - Chapter 10 - - -The current was gentle. Far across the river I saw a tiny light now. -We drifted slowly past it. I moved my hands just enough to keep my -nose above water. The surface was calm. I yawned; I could have slept -tonight, I thought, remembering the sleepless hours of the night -before. But it would be a long time between beds for me. - -I saw a glinting reflection on a ripple ahead, and glanced back. There -were lights on in the second story of the house we had left. - -I called to Gaston, pointing out the lights. - -"Yeah," he said. "I been watching them. I don't think we got nothing to -worry about." - -They could follow our trail to the water's edge easily enough, I knew, -with nothing more than a flashlight. As if in response to my thought, -a tiny gleam appeared at ground level, wavering, blinking as the trees -passed between us. It moved, bobbing toward the river. I watched until -it emerged from the trees. I saw the yellow gleam dancing across the -water where we had started. Other lights were following now, two, three. - -The whole household must have joined the chase. They must be expecting -to find me huddled on the ground nearby, exhausted, ready for the table -they had prepared for me in the presence of my enemies. - -The lights fanned out, moving along the shore. I saw that we were -safely ahead of them. - -"Gaston," I said, "have they got a boat back there?" - -"Nah," he replied. "We're in the clear." - -The little lights were pitiful, bobbing along the shore, falling behind. - -We floated along then in silence for an hour or more. It was still, -almost restful. Only a gentle fluttering of the hands was required to -keep our heads above water. - -Suddenly lights flashed ahead, over the river. - -"Cripes," Gaston hissed, backing water. "I forgot about the Salan -bridge. Them bunnies is on there waitin' for us." - -I could see the bridge, now, as the lights flashed across the pilings. -It was about a hundred yards ahead. - -"Head for the far shore, Gaston," I said. "Fast and quiet." - -I couldn't risk the splash of a crawl stroke, so I dog-paddled -frantically, my hands under the surface. They would have had us neatly, -if they hadn't shown the lights when they did, I thought. They couldn't -see us without them, though, so it was just a chance they had to take. -They must have estimated the speed of the river's flow, and tried to -pinpoint us. They didn't miss by much; in fact, they might not have -missed at all. I concentrated on putting every ounce of energy into my -strokes. My knees hit mud, and reeds brushed my face. I rolled over and -sat up, breathing hard. Gaston floundered a few feet away. - -"Here," I hissed. "Keep it quiet." - -The light on the bridge blinked out suddenly. I wondered what they'd -do next. If they headed along the banks, flashing lights, we'd have -to take to the water again; and if one man stayed on the bridge, and -flashed his light down just about the right moment-- - -"Let's get going," I said. - -I started up the slope, crouching low. The lights appeared again, down -at the water's edge now, flashing on the tall grass and cattails. -Another appeared on the opposite bank. I stopped to listen. Feet made -sloshing sounds in the mud, a hundred feet away. Good; that would cover -our noise. My wet shoes dangled by the strings, thumping my chest. - -The ground was firmer now, the grass not so tall. I stopped again, -Gaston right behind me, looking back. They'd find our tracks any -minute. We had no time to waste. The bundle of clothing was a nuisance, -but we couldn't stop to dress now. - -"Come on," I whispered, and broke into a run. - -Fifty feet from the top we dropped and started crawling. I didn't want -to be seen in silhouette against the sky as we topped the rise. - -We pulled ourselves along, puffing and grunting. Crawling is hard -work for a grown man. Just over the top we paused to look over the -situation. The road leading to the bridge wound away toward a distant -glow in the sky. - -"That's an army supply depot out that way," Gaston said. "No town." - -I raised up to look back toward the river. Two lights bobbed together, -then started slowly away from the water's edge. I heard a faint shout. - -"They've spotted the trail," I said. I jumped up and ran down the -slope, trying to breathe deep, in for four strides, out for four. A man -could run for a long time if he didn't get winded. Stones bruised my -bare feet. - -I angled over toward the highway, with some idea of making better time. -Gaston was beside me. - -"Nix," he said, puffing hard. "Them bunnies got a machine." - -For a moment I didn't know what he meant; then I heard the sound of -an engine starting up, and headlights lanced into the darkness, beams -aimed at the distant tree-tops as the car headed up the slope of the -approach to the bridge from the other side. We had only a few seconds -before the car would slant down on this side, and illuminate the road -and a wide strip on either side; we'd be spotlighted. - -Ahead, I saw a fence, just a glint from a wire. That finished it; we -were stopped. I slid to a halt. Then I saw that the fence lined a cross -road, joining the road we were paralleling twenty feet away. Maybe a -culvert ... I dived for shelter. - -A corrugated steel pipe eighteen inches in diameter ran beside the main -road where the other joined it. I scrambled over pebbles and twigs and -into the mouth. The sounds I made echoed hollowly inside. I kept going -to the far end, Gaston wheezing behind me. I stopped and looked over my -shoulder. Gaston had backed in and lay a few feet inside his end. The -glow of the headlights gave me a glimpse of a heavy automatic in his -hand. - -"Good boy," I hissed. "Don't shoot unless you have to." - -The lights of the car flickered over trees, highlighting rocks. -Through the open end of the pipe I saw a rabbit sitting up in the -glare, a few feet away. He turned and bounded off. - -The car came slowly along, passed, moved on down the road. I breathed a -little easier. - -I was on the point of turning to say something to Gaston when a small -stone rolled down into the ditch before me. I stiffened. A faint scuff -of shoes on gravel, another stone dislodged--and then a flashlight -beam darted across the gulley, played on the grass opposite, came to -rest on the open end of the drain pipe. I held my breath. Then the -steps came nearer, and the light probed, found my shoulder. There was a -frozen instant of silence, then the sharp slap of the slug-gun hitting -my palm. I caught a glimpse of the car a hundred feet away now, still -edging along, heard a sharp intake of breath as the man with the light -readied a shout. I pointed the gun to the right of the flash and the -recoil slammed my arm back. The flashlight skidded across the rocky -ground and went out as the man's body crashed heavily and lay still. I -groped for the man's feet, hauled him back toward the pipe. - -"Gaston," I whispered. The sound was hollow in the dark tunnel. "Give -me a hand." I pulled at the feet. I was glad it wasn't the doctor; he -wouldn't have fitted. - -I crawled out of the pipe and Gaston came up beside me. - -"After the car," I said. I had what I hoped was an idea. I was tired of -being chased; the hunted would become the hunter. - -I headed up the ditch at a trot, head down, Gaston at my heels. The car -had stopped a hundred yards away. I counted three flashlights moving in -the edge of the field. - -"Close enough," I hissed. "Let's split up now. I'll cross the road and -come up the other side. There's only one man over there. You get up in -the tall grass and sneak in as close to the car as you can. Watch me -and take your cue." - -I darted across the road, a grotesque figure, naked, my bundle dangling -by its strap from my shoulder. The car's headlights were still on. No -one could see us from beyond them, looking into the glare. I dropped -down into the ditch, wincing as sharp sticks jabbed my bare feet. The -man on my side was casting about in wide circles, fifty feet from the -road. A cricket sawed away insistently. - -The car started backing, swung to one side of the road, then went -forward; the driver was in the car, all right, he was turning around. -They must have come up the road to cut us off, planning to move back to -the river, searching foot by foot until they flushed us. No one seemed -to have missed the man who now lay quietly in the steel pipe. - -The car swung around and moved along at a snail's pace, headlights -flooding the road I had just crossed. I dropped down to the bottom -of the ditch as the lights passed over me. The car came on, and -stopped just above me. I could see the driver, staring out through the -windshield. He leaned forward, peering. I wondered if he was looking -for the man who had been coming along on foot, checking the ditch; he'd -be a long time seeing him from here. - -He opened the door, stepped out, one foot on the running board. The -car was long and top-heavy with flaring fenders. Dust roiled and gnats -danced in the beams from the great bowl-shaped headlights. - -I picked up a heavy stone, rose silently to hands and knees, and crept -up out of the ditch. The chauffeur stood with a hand on the top of -the door, looking over it. I came up behind him and hit him as hard -as I could on the top of the head. He folded into the seat. I shoved -him over, jumped in, and closed the door. It was hard to get the coat -off him in the dark, while trying to stay down behind the door, but -I managed it. I put it on and sat up. There was no alarm. The three -flashlights continued to bob around in the fields. The engine was -running quietly. - -I looked over the controls. The steering wheel was in the center, and -there were three pedals on the floor. I let the center pedal in; the -car moved off slowly. I steered to the right side of the road, crept -along the edge. Gaston must be about here, I thought. I stared out into -the darkness; I could see practically nothing. - -I eased to a stop. The flashlight nearest me swung back and forth, -moving toward the bridge. I reached out to the dash, pushed in a lever -that projected from it. The headlights died. - -I could see better now. The flashlights to my right stopped moving, -turned toward me. I waved cheerfully. I didn't think they could make -out my face in the dim beam at that distance. One of the lights seemed -satisfied, resumed its search; the other hesitated, flashing over the -car. - -There was a shout then, and I saw Gaston up and running toward me. -The flashlights converged on him as he leaped across the ditch ahead, -coming into the road. The lights came bounding toward him and someone -was yelling. Gaston stopped, whirled toward the nearest light, aiming -the pistol. There was a sharp sound. Both lights on his side dropped. -Not bad shooting for a .45, I thought. I jerked open the door and -Gaston jumped in beside me. Behind there was a faint shout from the -remaining man on the other side of the road, and the crack of a gun. -The slug made a solid thunk as it hit the heavy steel of the car. I -floorboarded the center and left pedals; the car jumped ahead, then -coasted. Another slug starred the glass beside me, scattering glass -chips in my hair. I let my foot off, tried again. The car surged -forward. I flipped the lights on. The car shifted up, tires squealing. -Ahead, a figure stumbled down into the ditch, scrambled up the other -side into the road, waving its arms. I saw the open mouth in the taut -white face for an instant in the flare of the lights before it was -slammed down out of sight, with a shock that bounced us in our seats. - -The bridge loomed ahead, narrow and highly arched. We took it wide -open, crushed down in the seat as we mounted the slope, floating as -we dropped on the other side. The road curved off to the left, tall -trees lining it. The tires howled as we rounded the turn and hit the -straightaway. - -"This is great, Hammer-hand," Gaston shouted. "I never rode in one of -these here machines before." - -"Neither did I," I yelled back. - - - - - Chapter 11 - - -The night was black, with no moon. My next problem was to get into the -walled town. The road led along the river's edge into the heart of the -city, according to Gaston. The dictator's stronghold lay at the edge of -the city north of the highway we were on. He had fortified the area, -enclosing shops and houses within an encircling wall like a medieval -town, creating a self-sufficient community to support the castle and -its occupants, easily patrolled and policed. It was no defense against -an army, but practical as a safeguard against assassins and rioters. - -"That's us," I said aloud. "Assassins and rioters." - -"Sure, chief," Gaston said. - -There was a glow in the sky ahead. From the road only a few scattered -lights were visible. The countryside seemed almost unpopulated. - -Twenty minutes of driving brought us to the bombed-out edge of the -city. The rubble stretched ahead, with here and there a shack or a tiny -patch of garden. To the right the mass of the castle loomed up, faintly -visible in the glow from the streets below it, unseen behind the wall. -To the original massive old country house, Bayard had added rambling -outbuildings, great mismatched wings, and the squat tower. - -I pulled over, cut the headlights. Gaston and I looked silently at the -lights in the tower. He lit a cigarette. - -"How are we going to get in there, Gaston?" I said. "How do we get over -the wall?" - -Gaston stared at the walls, thinking. "Listen, Hammer-hand," he said. -"You wait here, while I check around a little. I'm pretty good at -casing a layout, and I know this one from the inside; I'll find a spot -if there is one. Keep an eye peeled for the street gangs." - -I sat and waited. I rolled up the windows and locked the doors. I -couldn't see any signs of life about the broken walls around me. -Somewhere a cat yowled. - -I checked my clothes over. Both lapels were missing; the tiny set was -still clipped to my belt, but without speaker or mike, it was useless. -I ran my tongue over the tooth with the cyanide sealed in it. I might -need it yet. - -The door rattled. I had dozed off. Gaston's face pressed against the -glass. I unlocked it and he slid in beside me. - -"OK, Hammer-hand," he said. "Think I got us a spot. We go along the -edge of the drainage ditch over there to where it goes under the wall. -Then we got to get down inside it and ease under the guard tower. It -comes out in the clear on the other side." - -I got out and followed Gaston over broken stones to the ditch. It was -almost a creek, and the smell of it was terrible. - -Gaston led me along its edge for a hundred yards, until the wall hung -over us just beyond the circle of light from the guard tower. I could -see a fellow with a burp gun leaning against a post on top of the -tower, looking down onto the street inside the wall. There were two -large floodlights beside him, unlit. - -Gaston leaned close to my ear. "It kind of stinks," he said, "but the -wall is pretty rough, so I think we can make it OK." - -He slid over the edge, found a foothold, and disappeared. I slid down -after him, groping with my foot for a ledge. The wall was crudely laid, -with plenty of cracks and projecting stones, but slimy with moss. I -groped along, one precarious foot at a time. We passed the place where -the light gleamed on the black water below, hugging the shadow. Then -we were under the wall, which arched massively over us. The sound of -trickling water was louder here. - -I tried to see what was going on ahead. Gaston had stopped and was -descending. I could barely make out his figure, knee-deep in the -malodorous stream. I moved closer. Then I saw the grating. It was made -of iron bars, and completely blocked the passage. - -I climbed over to the grating, leaned against the rusty iron to ease my -arms. The defense system didn't have quite the hole in it we thought it -had. Gaston moved around below me, reaching under the surface to try to -find a bottom edge. Maybe we could duck under the barrier. - -Suddenly I felt myself slipping. - -Below me, Gaston hissed a curse, scrabbled upward. My grip was firm, -I realized in an instant; it was the grating that was slipping. It -dropped another eight inches with a muffled scraping and clank, then -stopped. The rusty metal had given under our weight. The corroded ends -of the bars had broken off at the left side. There wasn't room to pass, -but maybe we could force it a little further. - -Gaston braced himself against the wall and heaved. I got into position -beside him and added my weight. The frame shifted a little, then stuck. - -"Gaston," I said. "Maybe I can get under it now, and heave from the -other side." Gaston moved back, and I let myself down into the reeking -water. I worked an arm through, then dropped down waist deep, chest -deep, pushing. The rough metal scraped my face, caught at my clothing; -but I was through. - -I crawled back up, dripping, and rested. From the darkness behind -Gaston I heard a meshing of oiled metal parts and then the cavern -echoed with the thunder of machine gun fire. In the flashing light I -saw Gaston stiffen against the grating and fall. He hung by one hand, -caught in the grating. There were shouts, and men dropped onto the -stone coping at the culvert mouth. Gaston jerked, fumbled his pistol -from his blouse. - -"Gaston," I said. "Quick, under the bars...." I was helpless. I knew he -was too big. - -A man appeared, clinging to the coping with one hand, climbing down -to enter the dark opening. He flashed a light at us and Gaston, still -dangling by the left hand, fired. The man fell over into the stream -with a tremendous splash. - -Gaston gasped. "That's ... all...." The gun fell from his hand into the -black water. - -I moved fast now, from one hand-hold to the next, slipping and -clutching, but not quite falling somehow. I managed to get a look back -as I reached the open air. Two men were tugging at the body wedged in -the opening. Even in death, Gaston guarded my retreat. - -I came up over the side, and flattened against the wall, slug-gun in my -hand; the street was empty. They must have thought they had us trapped; -this side was deserted. I was directly under the tower. I eased out a -few feet, and craned my neck; a shadow moved at the top of the tower. -There was still one man on duty there. He must have heard the grating -fall and called for reinforcements. - -I looked down the street ahead. I recognized the Street of the Olive -Trees, the same one I had come through on my way out with Gros, ten -days earlier. It slanted down, curving to the right. That was where I -had to go, into the naked street, under the guns. I liked it here in -the shadow of the tower, but I couldn't stay. I leaped forward, running -for my life. The searchlight snapped on, swung, found me, burning -my leaping shadow against dusty walls and the loose-cobbled street. -Instinct told me to leap aside. As I did, the gun clattered and slugs -whined off the stones to my left. I was out of the light now, and -dashing for the protection of the curving wall ahead. The light was -still groping as I rounded the turn. No lights came on above me; I ran -in utter silence. The dwellers in these scarred tenements had learned -to sit silent behind barred windows when guns talked in the narrow -streets. - -I passed the spot where Gros had died, dashed on. In the distance a -whistle blew again and again. A shot rang out, kicking up dust ahead. I -kept going. - -I heard running feet behind me now. I scanned the shabby stalls ahead, -empty and dark, trying to find the one we had used the day we left the -palace, where the old woman huddled over her table of clay ware. It had -been tiny, with a ragged gray awning sagging over the front and broken -pots scattered before it. - -I almost passed it, caught myself, skidded, and dived for the back. I -fought the stiff tarpaulin, found the opening and squeezed through. - -I panted in complete darkness now. Outside, I heard voices as the men -shouted to each other, searching. I had a moment's respite; they didn't -know this entry. - -I looked at my watch. Things happened fast in this war world; it was -not yet half past nine. I had left the house at seven. I had killed -three men in those two hours, and a man had died for me. I thought how -easily a man slips back to his ancient role as nature's most deadly -hunter. - -I felt the fatigue suddenly. I yawned, sat on the floor. I had an -impulse to lie back and go to sleep, but instead I got up and began -feeling my way toward the passage. I wasn't finished yet; I was in the -palace, unwounded, armed. I had all I had any right to hope for--a -fighting chance. - -I was no longer the eager neophyte, ignorant of the realities; I came -now, steeled by necessity, a hardened fighter, a practical killer. I -was armed and I was desperate, and I bore the scars of combat. I did -not intend to fail. - - * * * * * - -Half an hour later, I eased a door open and looked down the length of -the same hall into which the shuttle had pitched me headlong two weeks -before. It hadn't changed. I stepped into the hall, tried the first -door. It opened, and I saw that it was a bedroom. I went in, and by the -faint light shining through the curtains from below, looked over a wide -bed, a large desk against the far wall, a closet door, an easy chair, -and through a partly open door, a roomy bathroom to the right. I closed -the door behind me, and crossed to the windows. There were steel -shutters, painted light green to match the walls, folded back behind -the draperies. I closed them, then went to the desk and flipped on the -lamp. I had had enough of groping through the dark for one night. - -The room was very handsome, spacious, with a deep pile grey-green rug -and a pair of bold water-colors on the wall. Suddenly I was aware of my -own reek. The clothes seemed to crawl on my back. I had lain in mud, -waded a sewer, crept through ancient dust. Without considering further, -I pulled the encrusted tunic off, tossed my clothes in a heap by the -door, and headed for the bath. - -I took half an hour soaping myself, and then climbed out and got my -uniform. I had nothing else to put on, and I wouldn't wear it as it -was. I soaped it up, rinsed it out, and draped it over the side of the -tub. There was a vast white bathrobe behind the door, and I wrapped -myself in it and went back into the bedroom. - -The thought penetrated to my dulled mind that I was behaving -dangerously. I tried again to shake myself alert. But alarm wouldn't -come. I felt perfectly safe, secure, comfortable. This won't do, I -thought; I'm going to go to sleep on my feet. I yawned again. - -I sat down in the chair opposite the door, and prepared to wait it -out. I got up, as an after-thought, and turned the light out. I don't -remember sitting down again. - - - - - Chapter 12 - - -I dreamt I was at the seashore, and the sun reflected from the glassy -water. It flashed in my eyes, and I turned away. I twisted in the -chair, opened my eyes. My head was thick. - -I stared at the pale green walls of the room, across the grey-green -rug. It was silent in the room and I didn't move. The door stood open. - -I remembered turning the light off, nothing more. Someone had turned it -on; someone had opened the door. I had come as a killer in the night; -and someone had found me here sleeping, betrayed by my own exhaustion. - -I sat up, and in that instant realized I was not alone. I turned my -head, and looked at the man who sat quietly in the chair on my left, -leaning back with his legs thrust out stiffly before him, his hands -lightly gripping the arms of a rosewood chair upholstered in black -leather. He smiled, and leaned forward. It was like looking into a -mirror. - -I didn't move. I stared at him. His face was thinner than mine, more -lined. The skin was burned dark, the hair bleached lighter by the -African sun; but it was me I looked at. Not a twin, not a double, not a -clever actor; it was myself, sitting in a chair, looking at me. - -"You have been sleeping soundly," he said. I thought of hearing my -voice on a tape recorder, except this voice spoke in flawless French. - -I moved my hand slightly; my gun was still there, and the man I had -come to kill sat not ten feet away, alone, unprotected. But I didn't -move. I wasn't ready, not yet. Maybe not ever. - -"Are you rested enough," he said, "or will you sleep longer before we -talk?" - -"I'm rested," I said. - -"I do not know how you came here," he said, "but that you are here is -enough. I did not know what gift the tide of fortune would bring to me, -but there could be no finer thing than this--a brother." - -I didn't know what I had expected the Dictator Bayard to be--a sullen -ruffian, a wild-eyed megalomaniac, a sly-eyed schemer. But I had not -expected a breathing image of myself, with a warm smile, and a poetic -manner of speech, a man who called me brother. - -He looked at me with an expression of intense interest. - -"You speak excellent French, but with an English accent," he said. "Or -is it perhaps American?" He smiled. "You must forgive my curiosity. -Linguistics, accents, they are a hobby of mine and, in your case, I am -doubly intrigued." - -"American," I said. - -"Amazing," he said. "I might have been born an American myself ... but -that is a long dull tale to tell another time." - -No need, I thought. My father told it to me often, when I was a boy. - -He went on, his voice intense, but gentle, friendly. "They told me, -when I returned to Algiers ten days ago, that a man resembling myself -had been seen here in the apartment. There were two men found in my -study, quite dead. There was a great deal of excitement, a garbled -report. But I was struck by the talk of a man who looked like me. I -wanted to see him, talk to him; I have been so very much alone here. It -was a thing that caught my imagination. Of course, I did not know what -brought this man here; they even talked of danger...." He spread his -hands in a Gallic gesture. - -"But when I came into this room and found you here, sleeping, I knew at -once that you could not have come but in friendship. I was touched, my -friend, to see that you came here on your own, entrusting yourself to -my hands." - -I couldn't say anything. I didn't try. - -"When I lit the lamp and saw your face, I knew at once that this was -more than some shallow impersonation; I saw my own face there, not so -worn by war as my own, the lines not so deeply etched. But there was -the call of blood to blood; I knew you for my brother." - -I licked my lips, swallowed. He leaned forward, placed his hand over -mine, gripped it hard, then leaned back in his chair with a sigh. - -"Forgive me again, brother. I fall easily into oratory, I fear; a habit -I should do well to break. There is time enough for plans later. But -now, will you tell me of yourself? I know you have in you the blood of -the Bayards." - -"Yes, my name is Bayard." - -"You must have wanted very much to come to me, to have made your way -here alone and unarmed. No one has ever passed the wall before, without -an escort and many papers." - -I couldn't sit here silent, but neither could I tell this man anything -of my real purpose in coming. I reminded myself of the treatment the -Imperial ambassadors had received at his hands, of all that Bale had -told me that first morning in the meeting with Bernadotte. But I saw -nothing here of the ruthless tyrant I expected. Instead, I found myself -responding to his spontaneous welcome. - -I had to tell him something. My years of diplomatic experience came to -my assistance once again. I found myself lying smoothly. - -"You're right in thinking I can help you, Brion," I said. I was -startled to hear myself calling him by his first name so easily, but it -seemed the natural thing to do. - -"But you're wrong in assuming that your state is the only surviving -center of civilization. There is another, a strong, dynamic, and -friendly power, which would like to establish amicable relations with -you. I am the emissary of that government." - -"But why did you not come to me openly? The course you chose, while -daring, was of extreme danger; but it must be that you were aware of -the treachery all about me, and feared that my enemies would keep you -from me." - -He seemed so eager to understand that he supplied most of his own -answers. This seemed an opportune moment to broach the subject of -Bale's two agents who had carried full diplomatic credentials, and -who had been subjected to beating, torture, and death. It was a -contradiction in the dictator's character I wanted to shed a little -light on. - -"I recall that two men sent to you a year ago were not well received," -I said. "I was unsure of my reception. I wanted to see you privately, -face to face." - -Bayard's face tensed. "Two men?" he said. "I have heard nothing of -ambassadors." - -"They were met first by a Colonel-General Yang," I said, "and afterward -were interviewed by you personally." - -Bayard's face went red. "There is a dog of a broken officer who leads a -crew of cut-throats in raids on what pitiful commerce I have been able -to encourage. His name is Yang. If he has molested a legation sent to -me from your country, I promise you his head." - -"It was said that you yourself shot one of them," I said, pressing the -point. - -Bayard gripped the arm of the chair, his eyes on my face. - -"I swear to you by the honor of the House of Bayard that I have never -heard until this moment of your Embassy, and that no harm came to them -through any act of mine." - -I believed him. I was starting to wonder about a lot of things. He -seemed sincere in welcoming the idea of an alliance with a civilized -power. And yet, I myself had seen the carnage done by his raiders at -the palace, and the atom bomb they had tried to detonate there. - -"Very well," I said. "On behalf of my government, I accept your -statement; but if we treaty with you now, what assurance will be given -to us that there will be no repetition of the bombing raids?" - -"Bombing raids!" He stared at me. There was a silence. - -"Thank God you came to me by night, in secret," he said. "It is plain -to me now that control of affairs has slipped from me farther even than -I had feared." - -"There have been seven raids, four of them accompanied by atomic bombs, -in the past year," I said. "The most recent was less than one month -ago." - -His voice was deadly now. "By my order, every gram of fissionable -material known to me to exist was dumped into the sea on the day that I -established this state. That there were traitors in my service, I knew; -but that there were madmen who would begin the horror again, I did not -suspect." - -He turned and stared across the room at a painting of sunlight shining -through leaves onto a weathered wall. "I fought them when they burned -the libraries, melted down the Cellini altar pieces, trampled the Mona -Lisa in the ruins of the Louvre. I could save only a fragment here, a -remnant there, always telling myself that it was not too late. But the -years passed and they have brought no change. - -"There has been an end to industry, farming, family life. Even with the -plenty that lies about us for the taking, men fight over three things: -gold, liquor, and women. - -"I have tried to arouse a spirit of rebuilding against the day when -even the broken storehouses run dry; but it's useless. Only my rigid -martial rule holds them in check. - -"I will confess. I had lost hope. There was too much decay all around -me. In my own house, among my closest advisors, I heard nothing but -talk of armament, expeditionary forces, domination, renewed war against -the ruins outside our little island of order. Empty war, meaningless -overlordship of dead nations. They hoped to spend our slender resources -in stamping out whatever traces might remain of human achievement, -unless it bowed to our supremacy." - -When he looked at me I thought of the expression, "Blazing eyes." - -"Now my hope springs up renewed," he said. "With a brother at my side, -we will prevail." - -I thought about it. The Imperium had given me full powers. I might as -well use them. - -"I think I can assure you," I said, "that the worst is over. My -government has resources; you may ask for whatever you need--men, -supplies, equipment. We ask only one thing of you--friendship and -justice between us." - -He leaned back, closed his eyes. "The long night is over," he said. - -There were still major points to be covered, but I felt sure that -Bayard had been grossly misrepresented to me, and to the Imperial -government. I wondered how Imperial Intelligence had been so completely -taken in and why. Bale had spoken of having a team of his best men -here, sending a stream of data back to him. - -There was also the problem of my transportation back to the Zero Zero -world of the Imperium. Bayard hadn't mentioned the MC shuttles. In -fact, thinking over what he had said, he talked as though they didn't -exist. Perhaps he was holding out on me, in spite of his apparent -candor. - -Bayard opened his eyes. "There has been enough of gravity for now," he -said. "I think that a little rejoicing between us would be appropriate. -I wonder if you share my liking for an impromptu feast on such an -occasion?" - -"I love to eat in the middle of the night," I said, "especially when -I've missed my dinner." - -"You are a true Bayard," he said. He reached to the table beside me and -pressed a button. He leaned back and placed his finger tips together. - -"And so now we must think about the menu." He pursed his lips, looking -thoughtful. "Tonight, permit me to select the menu," he said. "We will -see if our tastes are as similar as ourselves." - -"Fine," I said. - -There was a tap at the door. At Brion's call, it opened and a -sour-faced fiftyish little man came in. He saw me, started; then his -face blanked. He crossed to the dictator's chair, drew himself up, and -said, "I came as quick as I could, Major." - -"Fine, fine, Luc," he said. "At ease. My brother and I are hungry. We -have a very special hunger, and I want you, Luc, to see to it that our -dinner does the kitchen credit." - -Luc glanced at me from the corner of his eye. "I see the gentleman -resembles the Major somewhat," he said. - -"An amazing likeness. Now--" he stared at the ceiling. "We will begin -with a very dry Madeira, I think; Sercial, the 1875. Then we will whet -our appetites with _Les Huitres de Whitstable_, with a white Burgundy; -Chablis Vaudesir. I think there is still a bit of the '29." - -I leaned forward. This sounded like something special indeed. I had -eaten oysters Whitstable before, but the wines were vintages of which I -had only heard. - -"The soup, _Consomme Double aux Cepes_; then _Le Supreme de Brochet au -Beurre Blanc_, and for our first red Burgundy, Romanee-Conti, 1904." - -Brion ran through the remainder of a sumptuous menu. Luc went away -quietly. If he could carry that in his head, he was the kind of waiter -I'd always wanted to find. - -"Luc has been with me for many years," Brion said. "A faithful friend. -You noticed that he called me 'Major.' That was the last official rank -I held in the Army of France-in-Exile, before the collapse. I was -later elected as Colonel over a regiment of survivors of the Battle of -Gibraltar when we had realized that we were on our own. Later still, -when I saw what had to be done, and took into my hands the task of -rebuilding, other titles were given me by my followers, and I confess I -conferred one or two myself; it was a necessary psychological measure, -I felt. But to Luc I have always remained 'Major.' He himself was a -sous-officer, my regimental Sergeant-Major." - -"I know little about events of the last few years in Europe," I said. -"Can you tell me something about them?" - -He sat thoughtfully for a moment. "The course was steadily downhill," -he said, "from the day of the unhappy Peace of Munich in 1919. America -faced the Central Powers alone, and the end was inevitable. When -America fell under the massive onslaught in '32, it seemed that the -Kaiser's dream of a German-dominated world was at hand. Then came -the uprisings. I held a Second Lieutenant's commission in the Army -of France-in-Exile. We spearheaded the organized resistance, and the -movement spread like wild-fire. Men, it seemed, would not live as -slaves. We had high hopes in those days. - -"But the years passed, and stalemate wore away at us. At last the -Kaiser was overthrown by a palace coup, and we chose that chance to -make our last assault. I led my battalion on Gibraltar, and took a -steel-jacketed bullet through both knees almost before we were ashore. - -"I will never forget the hours of agony while I lay conscious in the -surgeons' tent. There was no more morphine, and the medical officers -worked over the minor cases, trying to get men back into the fight; I -was out of it and therefore took last priority. It was reasonable, but -at the time I did not understand." - -I listened, rapt. "When," I asked, "were you hit?" - -"That day I will not soon forget," he said. "April 15, 1945." - -I stared. I had been hit by a German machine gun slug at Jena and had -waited in the aid station for the doctors to get to me--on April 15, -1945. There was a strange affinity that linked this other Bayard's life -with mine, even across the unimaginable void of the Net. - -We finished the 1855 brandy, and still we sat, talking through -the African night. We laid ambitious plans for the rebuilding of -civilization. We enjoyed each other's company, and all stiffness had -long since gone. I closed my eyes, and I think I must have dozed off. -Something awakened me. - -Dawn was lightening the sky. Brion sat silent, frowning. He tilted his -head. - -"Listen." - -I listened. I thought I caught a faint shout and something banged in -the distance. I looked inquiringly at my host. His face was grim. - -"All is not well," he said. He gripped the chair arms, rose, got his -canes, started around the table. - -I got up and stepped forward through the glass doors into the room. I -was dizzy from the wine and brandy. There was a louder shout outside -in the hall and a muffled thump. Then the door shook, splintered and -crashed inward. - -Thin in a tight black uniform, Chief Inspector Bale stood in the -opening, his face white with excitement. He carried a long-barrelled -Mauser automatic pistol in his right hand. He stared at me, stepped -back, then with a sudden grimace raised the gun and fired. - -In the instant before the gun slammed, I caught a blur of motion from -my right, and then Brion was there, half in front of me, falling as the -shot echoed. I grabbed for him, caught him by the shoulders as he went -down, limp. Blood welled from under his collar, spreading; too much -blood, a life's blood. He was looking into my face as the light died -from his eyes. - - - - - Chapter 13 - - -"Get back, Bayard," Bale snarled. "Rotten luck, that; I needed the -swine alive for hanging." I stood up slowly. He stared at me, gnawing -his lip. "It was you I wanted dead; and this fool traded lives with -you." - -He seemed to be talking to himself. I recognized the voice now, a -little late. Bale was the Big Boss. It was the fact that he spoke in -French here that had fooled me. - -"All right," he said in abrupt decision. "He can trade deaths with you -too. You'll do to hang in his place. I'll give the mob their circus. -You wanted to take his place, here's your chance." - -He stepped farther into the room, motioned others in. Evil-looking -thugs came through the door, peering about, glancing at Bale for orders. - -"Put him in a cell," Bale said. "And I'm warning you, Cassu, keep your -bloody hands off him. I want him strong for the surgeon." - -Cassu grunted, twisted my arm until the joint creaked, and pushed me -past the dead body of the man I had come in one night to think of as a -brother. - -They marched me off down the corridor, pushed me into an elevator, led -me out again through a mob of noisy toughs armed to the teeth, down -stone stairs, along a damp tunnel in the rock, and at the end of the -line, sent me spinning with a kick into the pitch black of a cell. - -My stunned mind worked, trying to assimilate what had happened. Bale! -And not a double; he had known who I was. It was Bale of the Imperium, -a traitor. That answered a lot of questions. It explained the perfect -timing and placement of the attack at the palace, and why Bale had been -too busy to attend the gala affair that night. I realized now why he -had sought me out afterward; he was hoping that I'd been killed, of -course. That would have simplified matters for him. And the duel--I -had never quite been able to understand why the Intelligence chief had -been willing to risk killing me, when I was essential to the scheme -for controlling the dictator. And all the lies about the viciousness -of the Bayard of B-I Two were Bale's fabrications designed to prevent -establishment of friendly relations between the Imperium and this -unhappy world. - -Why? I asked myself. Did Bale plan to rule this hell-world himself, -making it his private domain? It seemed so. - -And I saw that Bale did not intend to content himself with this world -alone; this would be merely a base of operations, a source of fighting -men and weapons--including atomic bombs. Bale himself was the author -of the raids on the Imperium. He had stolen shuttles, or components -thereof, and had manned them here in B-I Two, and set out on a career -of piracy. The next step would be the assault on the Imperium itself, a -full-scale attack, strewing atomic death. The men of the Imperium would -wear gay uniforms and dress sabres into battle against atomic cannon. - -I wondered why I hadn't realized it sooner. The fantastic unlikeliness -of the development of the MC drive independently by the war-ruined -world of B-I Two seemed obvious now. - -While we had sat in solemn conference, planning moves against the -raiders, their prime mover had sat with us. No wonder an enemy scout -had lain in wait for me as I came in on my mission. - -When he found me at the hideout, Bale must have immediately set to work -planning how best to make use of the unexpected stroke of luck. And -when I had escaped, he had had to move fast. - -I could only assume that the State was now in his hands; that a show -execution of Bayard in the morning had been scheduled to impress the -populace with the reality of the change in regimes. - -Now I would hang in the dictator's place. And I remembered what Bale -had said: he wanted me strong for the surgeon. The wash tub would be -useful after all. There were enough who knew the dictator's secret to -make a corpse with legs embarrassing. - -They would shoot me full of dope, perform the operation, bind up the -stumps, dress my unconscious body in a uniform and hang me. A dead body -wouldn't fool the public. They would be able to see the color of life -in my face, even if I were still out, as the noose tightened. - -I heard someone coming, and saw a bobbing light in the passage through -the barred opening in the door. I braced myself. Maybe this was the man -with the saws and the heavy snippers already. - -Two men stopped at the cell door, opened it, came in. I squinted at the -glare of the flashlight. One of the two dropped something on the floor. - -"Put it on," he said. "The boss said he wanted you should wear this -here for the hanging." - -I saw my old costume, the one I had washed. At least it was clean, I -thought. It was strange, I considered, how inconsequentials still had -importance. - -A foot nudged me. "Put it on, like I said." - -"Yeah," I said. I took off the robe and pulled on the light wool jacket -and trousers, buckled the belt. There were no shoes; I guessed Bale -figured I wouldn't be needing them. - -"OK," the man said. "Let's go, Hiem." - -I sat and listened as the door clanked again; the light receded. It was -very dark. - -I fingered the torn lapels of my jacket. The communicator hadn't helped -me much. I could feel the broken wires, tiny filaments projecting from -the cut edge of the cloth. Beau Joe had cursed as he slashed at them! - -I looked down. Tiny blue sparks jumped against the utter black as the -wires touched. - -I sat perfectly still. Sweat broke out on my forehead. I didn't dare -move; the pain of hope awakening against all hope was worse than the -blank acceptance of certain death. - -My hands shook. I fumbled for the wires, tapped them together. A spark; -another. - -I tried to think. The communicator was clipped to my belt still; the -speaker and mike were gone but the power source was there. Was there a -possibility that touching the wires together would transmit a signal? I -didn't know. I could only try. - -I didn't know Morse Code, or any other code; but I knew S.O.S. Three -dots, three dashes, three dots. Over and over, while I suffered the -agony of hope. - -A long time passed. I tapped the wires, and waited. I almost fell off -the bunk as I dozed for an instant. I couldn't stop; I had to try until -time ran out for me. - -I heard them coming from far off, the first faint grate of leather on -dusty stone, a clink of metal. My mouth was dry, and my legs began to -tingle. I thought of the hollow tooth and ran my tongue over it. The -time for it had come. I wondered how it would taste, if it would be -painful. I wondered if Bale had forgotten it, or if he hadn't known. - -There were more sounds in the passage now, sounds of men and loud -voices; a clank of something heavy, a ponderous grinding. They must be -planning on setting the table up here in the cell, I thought. I went to -the tiny opening in the door and looked through. I could see nothing -but almost total darkness. Suddenly light flared brilliantly, and I -jumped, blinded. - -There was more noise, then someone yelled. They must be having a hell -of a time getting the stuff through the narrow hall, I thought. My -eyeballs ached, my legs were trembling, my stomach suddenly felt bad. -I gagged. I hoped I wouldn't go to pieces. Time for the tooth now. I -thought of how disappointed Bale would be when he found me dead in my -cell. It helped a little; but still I hesitated. I didn't want to die. -I had a lot of living I wanted to do first. - -Then someone called out, nearby. - -"Wolfhound!" - -My head came up. My code name. I tried to shout, choked. "Yes," I -croaked. I jumped to the bars, yelled. - -"Wolfhound, where in hell...." - -"Here!" I yelled. "Here!" - -"Get back, Colonel," someone said. "Get in the corner and cover up." - -I moved back and crouched, arms over my head. There was a sharp -hissing sound, and a mighty blast that jarred the floor under me. Tiny -particles bit and stung, and grit was in my mouth. With a drawn-out -clang, the door fell into the room. - -Arms grabbed me, pulled me through the boiling dust, out into the -glare. I stumbled, felt broken things underfoot. - -Men milled around a mass blocking the passage. Canted against the -wall a great box sat with a door hanging wide, light streaming out. -Arms helped me through the door, and I saw wires, coils, junction -boxes, stapled to bare new wood, with angle-irons here and there. -White-uniformed men crowded into the tiny space; a limp figure was -hauled through the door. - -"Full count," someone yelled. "Button up!" Wood splintered as a bullet -came through. - -The door banged shut, and the box trembled while a rumble built up into -a whine, then passed on up out of audibility. - -Someone grabbed my arm. "My God, Brion, you must have had a terrible -time of it." - -It was Richthofen, in a grey uniform, a cut on his face, staring at me. - -"No hard feelings," I said. "Your timing ... was good." - -"We've had a monitor on your band day and night, hoping for something," -he said. "We'd given you up, but couldn't bring ourselves to abandon -hope; then four hours ago the tapping started coming through. They went -after it with locators, and fixed it here in the wine cellars. - -"The patrol scouts couldn't get in here; no room. We pitched this box -together and came in." - -"Fast work," I said. I thought of the trip through the dreaded Blight, -in a jury-rig made of pine boards. I felt a certain pride in the men of -the Imperium. - -"Make a place for Colonel Bayard, men," someone said. A space was -cleared on the floor, jackets laid out on it. Richthofen was holding -me up and I made a mighty effort, got to the pallet and collapsed. -Richthofen said something but I didn't hear it. I wondered what had -held the meat cutters up so long, and then let it go. I had to say -something, warn them. I couldn't remember.... - - - - - Chapter 14 - - -I was lying in a clean bed in a sunny room, propped up on pillows. It -was a little like another room I had awakened in not so long before, -but there was one important difference. Barbro sat beside my bed, -knitting a ski stocking from red wool. Her hair was piled high on her -head, and the sun shone through it, coppery red. Her eyes were hazel, -and her features were perfect, and I liked lying there looking at her. -She had come every day since my return to the Imperium, and read to me, -talked to me, fed me soup and fluffed my pillows. I was enjoying my -convalescence. - -"If you are good, Brion," Barbro said, "and eat all of your soup today, -perhaps by tomorrow evening you will be strong enough to accept the -king's invitation." - -"OK," I said. "It's a deal." - -"The Emperor Ball," Barbro said, "is the most brilliant affair of the -year and all the three kings and the Emperor with their ladies will be -there together." - -I didn't answer; I was thinking. There seemed to be something I wasn't -figuring out. I had been leaving all the problems to the Intelligence -men, but I knew more than they did about Bale. - -I thought of the last big affair, and the brutal attack. I suspected -that this time every man would wear a slug-gun under his braided cuff. -But the fight on the floor had been merely a diversion, designed to -allow the crew to set up an atomic bomb. - -I sat bolt upright. That bomb had been turned over to Bale. There would -be no chance of surprise attack from a shuttle this time, with alert -crews watching around the clock for traces of unscheduled MC activity; -but there was no need to bring a bomb in. Bale had one here. - -"What is it, Brion?" Barbro asked, leaning forward. - -"What did Bale do with that bomb?" I said. "The one they tried to set -off at the dance. Where is it now?" - -"I don't know. It was turned over to Inspector Bale...." - -"When do the royal parties arrive for the Emperor Ball?" I asked. - -"They are already in the city," Barbro said, "at Drottningholm." - -I felt my heart start to beat a little faster. Bale wouldn't let this -opportunity pass. With the three kings here in the city, and an atomic -bomb hidden somewhere, he had to act. At one stroke he could wipe -out the leadership of the Imperium, and follow-up with a full-scale -assault; and against his atomic weapons, the fight would be hopeless. - -"Call Manfred, Barbro," I said. "Tell him that bomb's got to be found -fast. The kings will have to be evacuated from the city; the ball will -have to be cancelled...." - -Barbro spoke into the phone, looked back at me. "He has left the -building, Brion," she said. "Shall I try to reach Herr Goering?" - -"Yes," I said. I started to tell her to hurry, but she was already -speaking rapidly to someone at Goering's office. Barbro was quick to -catch on. - -"He also is out," Barbro said. "Is there anyone else?" - -I thought furiously. Manfred or Hermann would listen to anything I -might say, but with their staffs it would be a different matter. To -call off the day of celebration, disturb the royal parties, alarm the -city, were serious measures. No one would act on my vague suspicions -alone. I had to find my friends in a hurry--or find Bale. - -Imperial Intelligence had made a search, found nothing. His apartment -was deserted, as well as his small house at the edge of the city. And -the monitors had detected no shuttle not known to be an Imperium vessel -moving in the Net recently. - -There were several possibilities; one was that Bale had returned almost -at the same time as I had, slipping in before the situation was known, -while some of his own men still manned the alert stations. A second -was that he planned to come in prepared to hold off attackers until he -could detonate the bomb. Or possibly an accomplice would act for him. - -Somehow I liked the first thought best. It seemed more in keeping with -what I knew of Bale; shrewder, less dangerous. If I were right, Bale -was here now, somewhere in Stockholm, waiting for the hour to blow the -city sky-high. - -As for the hour, he would wait for the arrival of the Emperor, not -longer. - -"Barbro," I said, "when does the Emperor arrive?" - -"I'm not sure, Brion," she said. "Possibly tonight, but perhaps this -afternoon." - -That didn't give me much time. I jumped out of bed, and staggered. - -"Here I come, ready or not," I said. "I can't just lie here, Barbro. Do -you have a car?" - -"Yes, my car is downstairs, Brion. Sit down and let me help you." She -went to the closet and I sank down. I seemed always to be recuperating -lately. I had been through this shaky-legs business just a few days -ago, and here I was starting in again. Barbro turned, holding a brown -suit in her hands. - -"This is all there is, Brion," she said. "It is the uniform of the -dictator, that you wore when you came here to the hospital." - -"It will have to do," I said. Barbro helped me dress, and we left the -room as fast as I could walk. A passing nurse stared, but went on. I -was dizzy and panting already. - -The elevator helped. I sank down on the stool, head spinning. - -I felt something stiff in my chest pocket, and suddenly I had a vivid -recollection of Gaston giving me a card as we crouched in the dusk -behind the hideout near Algiers, telling me that he thought it was the -address of the Big Boss's out-of-town headquarters. I grabbed for the -card, squinted at it in the dim light of the ceiling lamp as the car -jolted to a stop. - -"Östermalmsgatan 71" was scrawled across the card in blurred pencil. I -remembered how I had dismissed it from my mind as of no interest when -Gaston had handed it to me; I had hoped for something more useful. Now -this might be the little key that could save an empire. - -"What is it, Brion?" Barbro asked. "Have you found something?" - -"I don't know," I said. "Maybe just a dead end, but maybe not." I -handed her the card. "Do you know where this is?" - -She read the address. "I think I know the street," she said. "It is not -far from the docks, in the warehouse district." - -"Let's go," I said, with a fervent hope that we were right, and not too -late. - - * * * * * - -We squealed around a corner, slowed in a street of gloomy warehouses, -blind glass windows in looming brick-red facades, with yard-high -letters identifying the shipping lines which owned them. - -"This is the street," Barbro said. "And the number was seventy-one?" - -"That's right," I said. "This is seventy-three; stop here." - -We stepped out onto a gritty sidewalk, shaded by the bulk of the -buildings, silent. There was a smell of tar and hemp in the air and a -hint of sea water. - -I stared at the building before me. There was a small door set in the -front beside a loading platform. I went up to it, tried it. Locked. I -leaned against it and rested. - -"Barbro," I said. "Get me a jack handle or tire tool from your car." I -hated to drag Barbro into this, but I had no choice. I couldn't do it -alone. - -She came back with a flat piece of steel eighteen inches long. I -jammed it into the wide crack at the edge of the door and pulled. -Something snapped, and with a jerk the door popped open. A stair ran up -into gloom above. Barbro gave me an arm, and we started up. The hard -work helped to keep my mind off the second sun that might light the -Stockholm sky at any moment. - -Five flights up, we reached a landing. The door we faced was of -red-stained wood, solid and with a new lock. I looked at the hinge -pins. They didn't look as good as the lock. - -It took fifteen minutes, every one of which took a year off my life, -but after a final wrench with the steel bar, the last pin clattered to -the floor. The door pivoted out and fell against the wall. - -"Wait here," I said. I started forward, into the papered hall. - -"I'm going with you, Brion," Barbro said. I didn't argue. - -We were in a handsome apartment, a little too lavishly furnished. -Persian rugs graced the floor, and in the bars of dusty sunlight that -slanted through shuttered windows, mellow old teak furniture gleamed, -and polished ivory figurines stood on dark shelves under silk scrolls -from Japan. An ornate screen stood in the center of the room. I walked -around a brocaded ottoman over to the screen and looked behind it. On a -light tripod of aluminium rods rested the bomb. - -Two heavy castings, bolted together around a central flange, with a few -wires running along to a small metal box on the underside. Midway up -the curve of the side, four small holes, arranged in a square. That was -all there was; but it could make a mighty crater where a city had been. - -I had no way of knowing whether it was armed or not. I leaned toward -the thing, listening. I could hear no sound of a timing device. I -thought of cutting the exposed wires, which looked like some sort of -jury-rig, but I couldn't risk it; that might set it off. - -"Here it is," I said, "but when does it go up?" I had an odd sensation -of intangibility, as though I were already a puff of incandescent gas. -I tried to think. - -"Start searching the place, Barbro," I said. "You might come across -something that will give us a hint. I'll phone Manfred's office and get -a squad up here to see if we can move the thing without blowing it." - - * * * * * - -I dialed Imperial Intelligence. Manfred wasn't in, and the fellow on -the phone was uncertain what he should do. - -"Get a crew here on the double," I yelled. "Somebody who can at least -make a guess as to whether this thing can be disturbed." - -He said he would confer with General Somebody. - -"When does the Emperor arrive?" I asked him. He was sorry, but he -was not at liberty to discuss the Emperor's movements. I slammed the -receiver down. - -"Brion," Barbro called. "Look what's here." - -I went to the door which opened onto the next room. A two-man shuttle -filled the space. Its door stood open. I looked inside. It was fitted -out in luxury; Bale provided well for himself even for short trips. -This was what he used to travel from the home line to B-I Two. And the -fact that it was here should indicate that Bale was here also; and that -he would return to it before the bomb went off. - -But then again, perhaps the bomb was even now ticking away its last -seconds, and Bale might be far away, safe from the blast. If the latter -were true, there was nothing I could do about it; but if he did plan to -return here, arm the bomb, set a timer and leave via the shuttle in the -bedroom--then maybe I could stop him. - -"Barbro," I said, "you've got to find Manfred or Hermann. I'm going to -stay here and wait for Bale to come back. If you find them, tell them -to get men here fast who can make a try at disarming this thing. I -don't dare move it, and it will take at least two to handle it. If we -can move it, we can shove it in the shuttle and send it off; I'll keep -phoning. I don't know where you should look but do your best." - -Barbro looked at me. "I would rather stay here with you, Brion," she -said. "But I understand that I must not." - -"You're quite a girl, Barbro," I said. - - - - - Chapter 15 - - -I was alone now, except for the ominous sphere behind the screen. I -hoped for a caller, though. I went to the door which leaned aslant -against the rough brick wall outside and unlatched it, maneuvered it -into place and dropped the pins back in the hinges, then closed and -relatched it. - -I went back to the over-stuffed room, started looking through drawers, -riffling through papers on the desk. I hoped for something--something -that might give me a hint of what Bale planned. I didn't find any -hints, but I did find a long-barrelled twenty-two revolver, loaded. -That helped. I hadn't given much thought to what I would do when Bale -got here. I was in no condition to grapple with him; now I had a -reasonable chance. - -I picked out a hiding place to duck into when and if I heard him -coming, a storeroom in the hall, between the bomb and the door. I found -a small liquor cabinet and poured myself two fingers of sherry. - -I sat in one of the fancy chairs, and tried to let myself go limp. I -was using up too much energy in tension. My stomach was a hard knot. -I could see the edge of the bomb behind its screen from where I sat. -I wondered if there would be any warning before it detonated. My ears -were cocked for a click or a rumble from the silent grey city-killer. - -The sound I heard was not a click; it was the scrape of shoes on wood, -beyond the door. I sat paralyzed for a moment, then got to my feet, -stepped to the storeroom and eased behind the door. I loosened the -revolver in my pocket and waited. - -The sounds were closer now, gratingly loud in the dead silence. Then -a key scraped in the lock, and a moment later the tall thin figure of -Chief Inspector Bale, traitor, shuffled into view. His small bald head -was drawn down between his shoulders, and he looked around the room -almost furtively. He pulled off his coat, and for one startled instant -I thought he would come to my storeroom to hang it up; but he threw it -over the back of a chair. - -He went to the screen, peered at the bomb. I could easily have shot -him, but that wouldn't have helped me. I wanted Bale to let me know -whether the bomb was armed, if it could be moved. He was the only man -in the Imperium who knew how to handle this device. - -He leaned over the bomb, took a small box from his pocket and stared at -it. He looked at his watch, went to the phone. I could barely hear his -mutter as he exchanged a few words with someone. He went into the next -room, and as I was about to follow to prevent his using the shuttle, he -came back. He looked at his watch again, sat in a chair, and opened a -small tool kit which lay on the table. He started to work on the metal -box with a slender screwdriver. This, then, was the arming device. I -tried not to breathe too loud, or to think about how my legs ached. - -Shocking in the stillness, the phone rang. Bale looked up, startled, -laid the screwdriver and the box on the table, and went over to the -phone. He looked down at it, chewing his lip. After five rings it -stopped. I wondered who it was. - -Bale went back to his work. Now he was replacing the cover on the box, -frowning over the job. He got up, went to the bomb, licked his lips and -leaned over it. He was ready now to arm the bomb. I couldn't wait any -longer. - -I pushed the door open, and Bale leaped upright, grabbing for his -chest, then jumped for the coat on the chair. - -"Stand where you are, Bale," I said. "I'd get a real kick out of -shooting you." - -Bale's eyes were almost popping from his head, his head was tilted -back, his mouth opened and closed. I got the impression that I had -startled him. - -"Sit down," I said. "There." I motioned with the pistol as I came out -into the room. - -"Bayard," Bale said hoarsely. I didn't say anything. I felt sure -now that the bomb was safe. All I had to do was wait until the crew -arrived, and turn Bale over to them. Then we could carry the bomb to -the shuttle, and send it off into the Blight. But I was feeling very -bad now. - -I went to a chair, and sank down. I tried not to let Bale see how weak -I was. I leaned back, and tried breathing deep through my nose again. -If I started to pass out I would have to shoot Bale; he couldn't be -left free to threaten the Imperium again. - -It was little better now. Bale stood rigid, staring at me. - -"Look, Bayard," he said. "I'll bring you in on this with me. I swear -I'll give you a full half share. I'll let you keep B-I Two as your -own, and I shall take the home line; there's plenty for all. Just put -that gun aside...." He licked his lips, started towards me. - -I started to motion with the gun, squeezed the trigger instead. A -bullet slapped Bale's shirt sleeve, smacked the wall. He dropped down -into the chair behind him. That was close, I thought. That could have -killed him. I've got to hold on. - -I might as well impress him a little, I thought. "I know how to use -this pop gun, you see," I said. "Just a quarter of an inch from the -arm, firing from the hip; not bad, don't you agree? Don't try anything -else." - -"You've got to listen to me, Bayard," Bale said. "Why should you care -what happens to these popinjays? We can rule as absolute monarchs." - -Bale went on, but I wasn't listening. I was concentrating on staying -conscious, waiting for the sounds of help arriving. - -"... take one moment, and we're off. What about it?" - -Bale was looking at me, with a look of naked greed. I didn't know what -he had been saying. He must have interpreted my silence as weakness; -he got up again, moved toward me. It was darker in the room; I rubbed -my eyes. I was feeling very bad now, very weak. My heart thumped in my -throat, my stomach quivered. I was in no shape to be trying to hold -this situation in check alone. - -Bale stopped, and I saw that he suddenly realized that I was blacking -out. He crouched, and with a snarl jumped at me. I would have to kill -him. I fired the pistol twice, and Bale reeled away, startled, but -still standing. - -"Hold on, Bayard, for the love of God," he squealed. I was still alive -enough to kill him. I raised the pistol, aimed and fired. I saw a -picture jump on the wall. Bale leaped aside. I didn't know if I had hit -him yet or not. I was losing my hold, but I wouldn't let him get away. -I fired twice more, peering from my chair, and I knew it was the light -in my mind fading, not in the room. Bale yelled; I saw that he didn't -dare to try for the door to the hall or the room where the shuttle -waited. He would have to pass me. He screamed as I aimed the pistol -with wavering hands, and dived for the other door. I fired and heard -the sound echo through a dream of blackness. - - * * * * * - -I wasn't out for more than a few minutes; I came to myself, sitting in -the chair, the pistol lying on my lap. The screen had fallen over, and -lay across the bomb. I sat up, panicky; maybe Bale had armed it. And -where was Bale? I remembered only that he had dashed for the next room. -I got up, grabbed for the chair again, then got my balance, made my way -to the door. There was a strange sound, a keening, like a cat in the -distant alley. I looked into the room, half expecting to see Bale lying -on the floor. There was nothing. The light streamed through an open -window, and a curtain flapped. Bale must have panicked and jumped, I -thought. I went to the window, and the keening started up again. - -Bale hung by his hands from the eave of the building across the alley, -fifteen feet away. The sound came from him. The left leg of his -trousers had a long stain of blackish red on it, and drops fell from -the toe of his shoe, five stories to the brick pavement below. - -"Good God, Bale," I said. "What have you done?" I was horrified. I -had been ready to shoot him down, but to see him hanging there was -something else again. - -"Bayard," he croaked, "I can't hold on much longer. For the love of -God...." - -What could I do? I was far too weak for any heroics. I looked around -the room frantically for an inspiration; I needed a plank or a piece of -rope. There was nothing. I pulled a sheet off the bed; it was far too -short. Even two or three would never make it. And I couldn't hold it -even if I could throw it and Bale caught it. I ran to the phone. - -"Operator," I called. "There's a man about to fall from a roof. Get the -fire department here with ladders, fast; seventy-one Östermalmsgatan, -fifth floor." - -I dropped the phone, ran back to the window. "Hold on, Bale," I said. -"Help's on the way." He must have tried to leap to the next roof, -thinking that I was at his heels; and with that hole in his leg he -hadn't quite made it. - -I thought of Bale, sending me off on a suicide mission, knowing that my -imposture was hopeless as long as I stood on my own legs; I thought of -the killer shuttle that had lain in wait to smash us as we went in; of -the operating room at the hideout, where Bale had planned to carve me -into a shape more suitable for his purpose. I remembered Bale shooting -down my new-found brother, and the night I had lain in the cold cell, -waiting for the butcher; and still I didn't want to see him die this -way. - -He started to scream suddenly, kicking desperately. He got one foot -up on the eave beside his white straining hands; it slipped off. Then -he was quiet again. I had been standing here now for five minutes. I -wondered how long I had been unconscious. Bale had been there longer -now than I would have thought possible. He couldn't last much longer. - -"Hold on, Bale," I called. "Only a little while. Don't struggle." - -He hung, silent. Blood dripped from his shoe. I looked down at the -alley below and shuddered. - -I heard a distant sound, a siren, howling. I dashed to the door, opened -it, listened. Heavy footsteps sounded below. - -"Here," I shouted, "all the way up." - -I turned and ran back to the window. Bale was as I had left him. Then -one hand slipped off, and he hung by one arm, swinging slightly. - -"They're here, Bale," I said. "A few seconds...." - -He didn't try to get a new hold. He made no sound. Feet pounded on the -stairs outside and I yelled again. - -I turned back to the window as Bale slipped down, silent. I didn't -watch. I heard him hit--twice. - -I staggered back, and the burly men called, looked out the window, -milled about. I made my way back to the chair, slumped down. I was -empty of emotion. There was a noise all around me, people coming and -going. I was hardly conscious of it. After a long time I saw Hermann, -and then Barbro was leaning over me. I reached for her hand, hungrily. - -"Take me home, Barbro," I said. - -I saw Manfred. - -"The bomb," I said. "It's safe. Put it in the shuttle and get rid of -it." - -"My crew is moving it now, Brion," he said. - -"You spoke of home, just now," Goering put in. "Speaking for -myself, and I am sure also for Manfred, I will make the strongest -recommendation that in view of your extraordinary services to the -Imperium you be dispatched back to your home as soon as you are well -enough to go, if that is your wish. I hope that you will stay with us. -But it must be for you to make that decision." - -"I don't have to decide," I said. "My choice is made. I like it here, -for many reasons. For one thing, I can use all the old cliches from -B-I Three, and they sound brand new; and as for home...." I looked at -Barbro: - -"Home is where the heart is." - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLDS OF THE IMPERIUM *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. 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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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Worlds of the Imperium</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Keith Laumer</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: July 7, 2021 [eBook #65792]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLDS OF THE IMPERIUM ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter x-ebookmaker-drop"> - <img src="images/illusc.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>WORLDS of the IMPERIUM</h1> - -<h2>By KEITH LAUMER</h2> - -<p>ACE BOOKS, INC.<br /> -23 West 47th Street, New York 36, N.Y.</p> - -<p>Copyright, 1962, by Ace Books, Inc.</p> - -<p>All Rights Reserved</p> - -<p>Printed in U.S.A.</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any<br /> -evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph1">DOUBLE TROUBLE FOR A DUPLICATE DICTATOR</p> - - -<p>For Brion Bayard, the discovery of an alternate world to Earth -where history took a different turn in the road was not a pleasant -experience. His kidnapping brought him some startling revelations. -Here was a world in which appeared identical doubles of famous -personages—including a dangerous and hated dictator named Brion Bayard!</p> - -<p>His assignment seemed simple enough. Dressed as his double, Brion was -to enter the enemy stronghold, kill the dictator, and take his place -until law and order could be maintained.</p> - -<p>But once having seen his mirror-image brother, Brion had as little -inclination to murder him as some other people had to let him live.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph1">CAST OF CHARACTERS</p> - - -<p>Brion Bayard: How much of his double was himself?</p> - -<p>Chief Inspector Bale: In alternate worlds, he still meant double -trouble.</p> - -<p>Hermann Goering: The same name, the same body, yet not the same man.</p> - -<p>Barbro Lundane: A Swedish lass with a sweetish air.</p> - -<p>Gaston: In a second world, he still had but one life to give for the -cause.</p> - -<p>Brion Bayard (2): His arch-enemy was his only friend.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph1">Chapter 1</p> - - -<p>I stopped in front of a shop with a small wooden sign which hung from a -wrought-iron spear projecting from the weathered stone wall. On it the -word Antikvariat was lettered in spidery gold against dull black. The -sign creaked as it swung in the night wind. Below it a metal grating -covered a dusty window with a display of yellowed etchings, woodcuts, -and lithographs, and a faded mezzotint. Some of the buildings in the -pictures looked familiar, but here they stood in open fields, or -perched on hills overlooking a harbor crowded with sails. The ladies -in the pictures wore great bell-like skirts and bonnets with ribbons, -and carried tiny parasols, while dainty-footed horses pranced before -carriages in the background.</p> - -<p>It wasn't the prints that interested me though, or even the heavy -gilt frame embracing a tarnished mirror at one side; it was the man -whose reflection I studied in the yellowed glass, a dark man wearing a -tightly-belted grey trench coat that was six inches too long. He stood -with his hands thrust deep in his pockets and stared into a darkened -window fifty feet from me.</p> - -<p>He had been following me all day.</p> - -<p>At first I thought it was coincidence when I noticed the man on the bus -from Bromma, then studying theatre announcements in the hotel lobby -while I registered, and half an hour later sitting three tables away -sipping coffee while I ate a hearty dinner.</p> - -<p>I had discarded the coincidence theory a long time ago. Five hours -had passed and he was still with me as I walked through the Old Town, -medieval Stockholm still preserved on an island in the middle of the -city. I had walked past shabby windows crammed with copper pots, ornate -silver, dueling pistols, and worn cavalry sabres; they were all very -quaint in the afternoon sun, but grim reminders of a ruder day of -violence after midnight. Over the echo of my footsteps in the silent -narrow streets the other steps came quietly behind, hurrying when I -hurried, stopping when I stopped. Now the man stared into the dark -window and waited. The next move was up to me.</p> - -<p>I was lost. Twenty years is a long time to remember the tortuous -turnings of the streets of the Old Town. I took my guide book from my -pocket and turned to the map in the back. My fingers were clumsy.</p> - -<p>I craned my neck up at the stone tablet set in the corner of the -building; it was barely legible: Master Samuelsgatan. I found the name -on the folding map and saw that it ran for three short blocks, ending -at Gamla Storgatan; a dead end. In the dim light it was difficult to -see the fine detail on the map. I twisted the book around and got a -clearer view; there appeared to be another tiny street, marked with -cross-lines, and labeled Guldsmedstrappan.</p> - -<p>I tried to remember my Swedish; <i>trappan</i> meant stair. The Goldsmith's -Stairs, running from Master Samuelsgatan to Hundgatan, another tiny -street. It seemed to lead to the lighted area near the palace; it -looked like my only route out. I dropped the book back into my pocket -and moved off casually toward the stairs of the Goldsmith. I hoped -there was no gate across the entrance.</p> - -<p>My shadow waited a moment, then followed. As I was ambling, I slowly -gained a little on him. He seemed in no hurry at all. I passed more -tiny shops, with iron-bound doors and worn stone sills, and then saw -that the next doorway was an open arch with littered granite steps -ascending abruptly. I paused idly, then turned in. Once past the -portal, I bounded up the steps at top speed. Six leaps, eight, and I -was at the top, darting to the left toward a deep doorway. There was -just a chance I'd cleared the top of the stair before the dark man -had reached the bottom. I stood and listened. I heard the scrape of -shoes, then heavy breathing from the direction of the stairs a few feet -away. I waited, breathing with my mouth wide open, trying not to pant -audibly. After a moment the steps moved away. The proper move for my -silent companion would be to cast about quickly for my hiding place, on -the assumption that I had concealed myself close by. He would be back -this way soon.</p> - -<p>I risked a glance. He was moving quickly along, looking sharply about, -with his back to me. I pulled off my shoes and without taking time to -think about it, stepped out. I made it to the stairs in three paces, -and faded out of sight as the man stopped to turn back. I leaped down -three steps at a time; I was halfway down when my foot hit a loose -stone, and I flew the rest of the way.</p> - -<p>I hit the cobblestones shoulder first, and followed up with my head. I -rolled over and scrambled to my feet, my head ringing. I clung to the -wall by the foot of the steps as the pain started. Now I was getting -mad. I heard the soft-shod feet coming down the stairs, and gathered -myself to jump him as he came out. The footsteps hesitated just before -the arch, then the dark round head with the uncut hair peeped out. I -swung a haymaker—and missed.</p> - -<p>He darted into the street and turned, fumbling in his overcoat. -I assumed he was trying to get a gun, and aimed a kick at his -mid-section. I had better luck this time; I connected solidly, and had -the satisfaction of hearing him gasp in agony. I hoped he hurt as badly -as I did. Whatever he was fumbling for came free then, and he backed -away, holding the thing in his mouth.</p> - -<p>"One-oh-nine, where in bloody blazes are you?" he said in a harsh -voice, glaring at me. He had an odd accent. I realized the thing was -some sort of microphone. "Come in, one-oh-nine, this job's going to -pieces...." He backed away, talking, eyes on me. I leaned against the -wall; I was hurt too badly to be very aggressive. There was no one else -in sight. His soft shoes made whispering sounds on the paving stones. -Mine lay in the middle of the street where I had dropped them when I -fell.</p> - -<p>Then there was a sound behind me. I whirled, and saw the narrow street -almost blocked by a huge van. I let my breath out with a sigh of -relief. Here was help.</p> - -<p>Two men jumped down from the van, and without hesitation stepped up to -me, took my arms and escorted me toward the rear of the van. They wore -tight white uniforms, and said nothing.</p> - -<p>"I'm all right," I said. "Grab that man." About that time I realized he -was following along, talking excitedly to the man in white, and that -the grip on my arms was more of a restraint than a support. I dug in my -heels and tried to pull away. I remembered suddenly that the Stockholm -police don't wear white uniforms.</p> - -<p>I might as well not have bothered. One of them unclipped a thing like -a tiny aerosol bomb from his belt and sprayed it into my face. I felt -myself go limp.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph1">Chapter 2</p> - - -<p>There was a scratching sound which irritated me. I tried unsuccessfully -to weave it into a couple of dreams before my subconscious gave up. -I was lying on my back, eyes closed. I couldn't think where I was. -I remembered a frightening dream about being followed, and then as I -became aware of pain in my shoulder and head, my eyes snapped open. I -was lying on a cot at the side of a small office; the scratching came -from the desk where a dapper man in a white uniform sat writing. There -was a humming sound and a feeling of motion.</p> - -<p>I sat up. At once the man behind the desk looked up, rose, and walked -over to me. He drew up a chair and sat down.</p> - -<p>"Please don't be alarmed," he said in a clipped British accent. "I'm -Chief Captain Winter. You need merely to assist in giving me some -routine information, after which you will be assigned comfortable -quarters." He said all this in a smooth lifeless way, as though he'd -been through it before. Then he looked directly at me for the first -time.</p> - -<p>"I must apologize for the callousness with which you were handled; it -was not my intention. However," his tone changed, "you must excuse the -operative; he was uninformed."</p> - -<p>Chief Captain Winter opened a notebook and lolled back in his chair -with pencil poised. "Where were you born, Mr. Bayard?"</p> - -<p>They must have been through my pockets, I thought; they know my name.</p> - -<p>"Who the hell are you?" I said.</p> - -<p>The chief captain raised an eyebrow. His uniform was immaculate, and -brilliantly jewelled decorations sparkled on his chest.</p> - -<p>"Of course you are confused at this moment, Mr. Bayard, but everything -will be explained to you carefully in due course. I am an Imperial -officer, duly authorized to interrogate subjects under detention." He -smiled soothingly. "Now please state your birthplace."</p> - -<p>I said nothing. I didn't feel like answering any questions; I had too -many of my own to ask first. I couldn't place the fellow's accent. He -was an Englishman all right, but I couldn't have said from what part -of England. I glanced at the medals. Most of them were strange but I -recognized the scarlet ribbon of the Victoria Cross, with three palms, -ornamented with gems. There was something extremely phoney about Chief -Captain Winter.</p> - -<p>"Come along now, old chap," Winter said sharply. "Kindly cooperate. It -will save a great deal of unpleasantness."</p> - -<p>I looked at him grimly. "I find being chased, grabbed, gassed, stuffed -in a cell, and quizzed about my personal life pretty damned unpleasant -already, so don't bother trying to keep it all on a high plane. I'm not -answering any questions." I reached in my pocket for my passport; it -wasn't there.</p> - -<p>"Since you've already stolen my passport, you know by now that I'm an -American diplomat, and enjoy diplomatic immunity to any form of arrest, -detention, interrogation and what have you. So I'm leaving as soon as -you return my property, including my shoes."</p> - -<p>Winter's face had stiffened up. I could see my act hadn't had much -impression on him. He signalled, and two fellows I hadn't seen before -moved around into view. They were bigger than he was.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Bayard, you must answer my questions, under duress, if necessary. -Kindly begin by stating your birthplace."</p> - -<p>"You'll find it in my passport," I said. I was looking at the two -reinforcements; they were as easy to ignore as a couple of bulldozers -in the living room. I decided on a change of tactics. I'd play along in -the hope they'd relax a bit, and then make a break for it.</p> - -<p>One of the men, at a signal, handed Winter my passport from his desk. -He glanced through it, made a number of notes, and passed the booklet -back to me.</p> - -<p>"Thank you, Mr. Bayard," he said pleasantly. "Now let's get on to -particulars. Where did you attend school?"</p> - -<p>I tried hard now to give the impression of one eager to please. -I regretted my earlier truculence; it made my present pose of -co-operativeness a little less plausible. Winter must have been -accustomed to the job though, and to subjects who were abject. After -a few minutes he waved an arm at the two bouncers, who left the room -silently.</p> - -<p>Winter had gotten on to the subject of international relations and -geopolitics now, and seem to be fascinated by my commonplace replies. I -attempted once or twice to ask why it was necessary to quiz me closely -on matters of general information, but was firmly guided back to the -answering of the questions.</p> - -<p>He covered geography and recent history thoroughly with emphasis on -the period 1879-1910, and then started in on a biographic list; all I -knew about one name after another. Most of them I'd never heard of, a -few were minor public figures. He quizzed me in detail on two Italians, -Cocino and Maxoni. He could hardly believe I'd never heard of them. He -seemed fascinated by many of my replies.</p> - -<p>"Niven an actor?" he said incredulously. "Never heard of Crane Talbot?" -and when I described Churchill's role in recent affairs, he laughed -uproariously.</p> - -<p>After forty minutes of this one-sided discussion, a buzzer sounded -faintly, and another uniformed man entered, placed a good-sized box on -the corner of the desk, and left. Winter ignored the interruption.</p> - -<p>Another twenty minutes of questions went by. Who was the present -monarch of Anglo-Germany? Winter asked. What was the composition of the -royal family, the ages of the children? I exhausted my knowledge of the -subject. What was the status of the Viceroyalty of India? Explain the -working of the Dominion arrangements of Australia, Northern America, -Cabotsland...? I was appalled at the questions; the author of them -must have been insane. It was almost impossible to link the garbled -reference to non-existent political subdivisions and institutions to -reality. I answered as matter-of-factly as possible. At least Winter -did not seem to be much disturbed by my revision of his distorted -version of affairs.</p> - -<p>At last Winter rose, moved over to his desk, and motioned me to a chair -beside it. As I pulled the chair out, I glanced into the box on the -desk. I saw magazines, folded cloth, coins—and the butt of a small -automatic protruding from under a copy of the World Almanac. Winter had -turned away, reaching into a small cabinet behind the desk. My hand -darted out, scooped up the pistol, and dropped it into my pocket as I -seated myself.</p> - -<p>Winter turned back with a blue glass bottle. "Now let's have a drop -and I'll attempt to clear up some of your justifiable confusion, Mr. -Bayard," he said genially. "What would you like to know?" I ignored the -bottle.</p> - -<p>"Where am I?" I said.</p> - -<p>"In the city of Stockholm, Sweden."</p> - -<p>"We seem to be moving; what is this, a moving van with an office in it?"</p> - -<p>"This is a vehicle, though not a moving van."</p> - -<p>"Why did you pick me up?"</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry that I can tell you no more than that you were brought in -under specific orders from a very high-ranking officer of the Imperial -Service." He looked at me speculatively. "This was most unusual," he -added.</p> - -<p>"I take it kidnapping inoffensive persons is not in itself unusual."</p> - -<p>Winter frowned. "You are the subject of an official operation -of Imperial Intelligence. Please rest assured you are not being -persecuted."</p> - -<p>"What is Imperial Intelligence?"</p> - -<p>"Mr. Bayard," Winter said earnestly, leaning forward, "it will be -necessary for you to face a number of realizations; the first is that -the governments which you are accustomed to regard as supreme sovereign -powers must in fact be considered tributary to the Imperium, the -Paramount Government in whose service I am an officer."</p> - -<p>"You're a fake," I said.</p> - -<p>Winter bristled. "I hold an Imperial Commission as Chief Captain of -Intelligence."</p> - -<p>"What do you call this vehicle we're in?"</p> - -<p>"This is an armed TNL scout based at Stockholm Zero Zero."</p> - -<p>"That tells me a lot; what is it, a boat, car, airplane...?"</p> - -<p>"None of those, Mr. Bayard."</p> - -<p>"All right, I'll be specific; what does it travel on, water, air...?"</p> - -<p>Winter hesitated. "Frankly, I don't know."</p> - -<p>I saw it was time to try a new angle of attack. "Where are we going?"</p> - -<p>"We are presently operating along coordinates zero-zero-zero, -zero-zero-six, zero-ninety-two."</p> - -<p>"What is our destination? What place?"</p> - -<p>"Stockholm Zero Zero, after which you'll probably be transferred to -London Zero Zero for further processing."</p> - -<p>"What is the Zero business? Do you mean London, England?"</p> - -<p>"The London you refer to is London B-I Three."</p> - -<p>"What's the difference?"</p> - -<p>"London Zero Zero is the capital of the Imperium, comprising the major -portion of the civilized world—North Europe, West Hemisphere, and -Australia."</p> - -<p>I changed the subject. "Why did you kidnap me?"</p> - -<p>"A routine interrogational arrest, insofar as I know."</p> - -<p>"Do you intend to release me?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"At home?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Where?"</p> - -<p>"I can't say; at one of several concentration points."</p> - -<p>"One more question," I said, easing the automatic from my pocket and -pointing it at the third medal from the left. "Do you know what this is?</p> - -<p>"Keep your hands in sight; better get up and stand over there."</p> - -<p>Winter rose and moved over to the spot indicated. I'd never aimed a -pistol at a man point-blank before, but I felt no hesitation now.</p> - -<p>"Tell me all about it," I said.</p> - -<p>"I've answered every question," Winter said nervously.</p> - -<p>"And told me nothing." Winter stood staring at me.</p> - -<p>I slipped the safety off with a click. "You have five seconds to -start," I said. "One ... two...."</p> - -<p>"Very well," Winter said. "No need for all this; I'll try." He -hesitated. "You were selected from higher up. We went to a great deal -of trouble to get you in particular. As I've explained, that's rather -irregular. However," Winter seemed to be warming to his subject, "all -sampling in this region has been extremely restricted in the past; you -see, your continuum occupies an island, one of a very few isolated -lines in a vast blighted region. The entire configuration is abnormal, -and an extremely dangerous area in which to maneuver. We lost many -good men in early years before we learned how to handle the problems -involved."</p> - -<p>"I suppose you know this is all nonsense to me," I said. "What do you -mean by sampling?"</p> - -<p>"Do you mind if I smoke?" Winter said. I took a long brown cigarette -from a box on the desk, lit it, and handed it to him. "Sampling refers -to the collection of individuals or artifacts from representative B-I -lines," he said, blowing out smoke. "We in Intelligence are engaged now -in mapping operations. It's fascinating work, old boy, picking up the -trend lines, coordinating findings with theoretical work, developing -accurate calibrating devices, instruments, and so on. We're just -beginning to discover the potentialities of working the Net. In order -to gather maximum information in a short time, we've found it expedient -to collect individuals for interrogation. In this way we quickly gain a -general picture of the configuration of the Net in various directions. -In your case, I was directed under sealed orders to enter the Blight, -proceed to Blight-Insular Three, and take over custody of Mr. Brion -Bayard, a diplomat representing, of all things, an American republic." -Winter spoke enthusiastically now. As he relaxed, he seemed younger.</p> - -<p>"It was quite a feather in my cap, old chap, to be selected to conduct -an operation in the Blight, and I've found it fascinating. Always in -the past, of course, I've operated at such a distance from the Imperium -that little or no analogy existed. But B-I Three! Why it's practically -the Imperium, with just enough variation to stir the imagination. Close -as the two lines are, there's a desert of Blight around and between -them that indicates how frightfully close to the rim we've trodden in -times past."</p> - -<p>"All right, Winter. I've heard enough," I said. "You're just a harmless -nut, maybe. But I'll be going now."</p> - -<p>"That's quite impossible," Winter said. "We're in the midst of the -Blight."</p> - -<p>"What's the Blight?" I asked, making conversation as I looked around -the room, trying to pick out the best door to leave by. There were -three. I decided on the one no one had come through yet. I moved -towards it.</p> - -<p>"The Blight is a region of utter desolation, radiation, and chaos," -Winter was saying. "There are whole ranges of A-lines where the very -planet no longer exists, where automatic cameras have recorded nothing -but a vast ring of debris in orbit; then there are the cinder-worlds, -and here and there dismal groups of cancerous jungles, alive with -radiation-poisoned mutations. It's frightful, old chap. You can wave -the pistol at me all night, but it will get you nothing. In a few hours -we'll arrive at Zero Zero; you may as well relax until then."</p> - -<p>I tried the door, it was locked. "Where's the key?" I said.</p> - -<p>"There's no key. It will open automatically at the base."</p> - -<p>I went to one of the other doors, the one the man with the box had -entered through. I pulled it open and glanced out. The humming sound -was louder and down a short and narrow corridor I saw what appeared to -be a pilot's compartment. A man's back was visible.</p> - -<p>"Come on, Winter," I said. "Go ahead of me."</p> - -<p>"Don't be a complete ass, old boy," Winter said, looking irritated. He -turned toward his desk. I raised the pistol. The shot boomed inside -the walls of the room, and Winter leaped back from the desk holding -a ripped hand. He whirled on me, for the first time looking really -scared. "You're insane," he shouted. "I've told you we're in the midst -of the Blight."</p> - -<p>I was keeping one eye on the man up front, who was looking over his -shoulder while frantically doing something with his other hand.</p> - -<p>"You're leaking all over that nice rug," I said. "I'm going to kill you -with the next one. Stop this machine."</p> - -<p>Winter was pale; he swallowed convulsively. "I swear, Mr. Bayard, -that's utterly impossible. I'd rather you shoot me. You have no -conception of what you're suggesting."</p> - -<p>I saw now that I was in the hands of a dangerous lunatic. I believed -Winter when he said he'd rather die than stop this bus—or whatever -it was. In spite of my threat, I couldn't shoot him in cold blood. I -turned and took three steps up the passage and poked the automatic into -the small of the back that showed there.</p> - -<p>"Cut the switch," I said. The man, who was one of the two who had been -standing by when I awoke in the office, continued to twist frantically -at a knob on the panel before him. He glanced at me, but kept on -twiddling. I raised the pistol and fired a shot into the instrument -panel. The man jumped convulsively, and threw himself forward, -protecting the panel with his body.</p> - -<p>"Stop, you bloody fool," he shouted. "Let us explain!"</p> - -<p>"I tried that," I said. "It didn't work. Get out of my way. I'm -bringing this wagon to a halt one way or another."</p> - -<p>I stood so that I could see both men. Winter half crouched in the -doorway, face white. "Are we all right, Doyle?" he called in a strained -voice. Doyle eased away from the panel, turned his back to me, and -glanced over the instruments. He flipped a toggle, cursed, and turned -back to face Winter.</p> - -<p>"Communicator dead," he said. "But we're still in operation."</p> - -<p>I hesitated now. These two were genuinely terrified of the idea of -stopping; they had paid as little attention to me and my noisy gun as -one would to a kid with a water pistol. Compared to stopping, a bullet -was apparently a trifling irritation.</p> - -<p>It was also obvious that this was no moving van. The pilot's -compartment had more instruments than an airliner, and no windows. -Elaborate ideas began to run through my mind. Space ship? Time -machine? What the devil had I gotten into?</p> - -<p>"All right, Winter," I said. "Let's call a truce. I'll give you five -minutes to give me a satisfactory explanation, prove you're not an -escapee from the violent ward, and tell me how you're going to go about -setting me down right back where you found me. If you can't or won't -cooperate, I'll fill that panel full of holes—including anybody who -happens to be standing in front of it."</p> - -<p>"Yes," Winter said. "I swear I'll do all I can. Just come away from the -control compartment."</p> - -<p>"I'll stay right here," I said. "I won't jump the gun unless you give -me a reason, like holding your mouth wrong."</p> - -<p>Winter was sweating. "This is a scouting machine, operating in the Net. -By the Net, I mean the complex of Alternative lines which constitute -the matrix of all simultaneous reality. Our drive is the Maxoni-Cocini -field generator, which creates a force operating at what one might call -a perpendicular to normal entropy. Actually, I know little about the -physics of the mechanism; I am not a technician."</p> - -<p>I looked at my watch. Winter got the idea. "The Imperium is the -government of the Zero Zero A-line in which this discovery was made. -The device is an extremely complex one, and there are a thousand ways -in which it can cause disaster to its operators if a mistake is made. -Judging from the fact that every A-line within thousands of parameters -of Zero Zero is a scene of the most fearful carnage, we surmise that -our line alone was successful in controlling the force. We conduct our -operations in all of that column of A-space lying outside the Blight, -as we term this area of destruction. The Blight itself we ordinarily -avoid completely."</p> - -<p>Winter wrapped a handkerchief around his bleeding hand as he talked.</p> - -<p>"Your line, known as Blight-Insular Three, or B-I Three, is one of -two exceptions we know to the general destruction. These two lines -lie at some distance from Zero Zero, yours a bit closer than B-I Two. -B-I Three was discovered only a month or so ago, and just recently -confirmed as a safe line. All this exploratory work in the Blight was -done by drone scouts, unmanned.</p> - -<p>"Why I was directed to pick you up, I don't know. But believe me when I -say that if you succeed in crippling this scout, you'll precipitate us -into identity with an A-line which might be nothing more than a ring of -radioactive dust around the sun, or a great mass of mutated fungus. We -cannot stop now for any reason until we reach a safe area."</p> - -<p>I looked at my watch again. "Four minutes," I said. "Prove what you've -been telling me."</p> - -<p>Winter licked his lips. "Doyle, get the recon photos of this sector, -the ones we made on the way in."</p> - -<p>Doyle reached across to a compartment under the panel and brought out a -large red envelope. He handed it to me. I passed it to Winter.</p> - -<p>"Open it," I said. "Let's see what you've got."</p> - -<p>Winter fumbled a moment, then slipped a stack of glossy prints out. He -handed me the first one. "All these photos were made from precisely the -same spatial and temporal coordinates as those occupied by the scout. -The only difference is the Web coordinates."</p> - -<p>The print showed an array of ragged fragments of rock hanging against -a backdrop of foggy grey, with a few bright points gleaming through. I -didn't know what it was intended to represent.</p> - -<p>He handed me another; it was similar. So was the third, with the added -detail that one rock fragment had a smooth side, with tiny lines across -it, Winter spoke up. "The scale is not what it appears; that odd bit is -a portion of the earth's crust, about twenty miles from the camera; the -lines are roads." I stared, fascinated. Beyond the strangely scribed -fragment, other jagged pieces ranged away to the limit of sight, and -beyond. My imagination reeled at the idea that perhaps Winter was -telling me the literal truth.</p> - -<p>Winter passed over another shot. This one showed a lumpy black -expanse, visible only by the murky gleam of light reflected by the -irregularities in the surface in the direction of the moon, which -showed as a brilliant disc in the black sky.</p> - -<p>The next was half-obscured by a mass which loomed across the lens, -too close for focus. Beyond, a huge sprawling bulk, shapeless, gross, -immense, lay half-buried in tangled vines. I stared horrified at -the tiny cowlike head which lolled uselessly on the slope of the -mountainous creature. Some distance away a distended leglike appendage -projected, the hoof dangling.</p> - -<p>"Yes," Winter said. "It's a cow. A mutated cow which no longer has -any limitation on its growth. It's a vast tissue culture, absorbing -nourishment direct from the vines. They grow all through the mass of -flesh. The rudimentary head and occasional limbs are quite useless." -I pushed the pictures back at him. I was sick. "I've seen enough," I -said. "You've sold me. Let's get out of this." I pushed the pistol into -my pocket. I thought of the bullet hole in the panel and shuddered.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Back in the office, I sat down at the desk. Winter spoke up again. -"It's a very unnerving thing, old chap, to have it shown to you all at -once that way."</p> - -<p>Winter went on talking while I tried to assemble his fragmentary -information into a coherent picture. A vast spider web of lines, each -one a complete universe, each minutely different from all the others; -somewhere, a line, or world, in which a device had been developed that -enabled a man to move across the lines. Well, why not, I thought. With -all those lines to work with, everything was bound to happen in one of -them; or was it?</p> - -<p>"How about all the other A-lines, Winter," I said at the thought, -"where this same discovery must have been made, where there was only -some unimportant difference. Why aren't you swarming all over each -other, bumping into yourself?"</p> - -<p>"That's been a big question to our scientists, old chap, and they -haven't yet come up with any definitive answers. However, there -are a few established points. First, the thing is a fantastically -delicate device, as I've explained. The tiniest slip in the initial -experimentation, and we'd have ended like some of those other lines -you've seen photos of. Apparently the odds were quite fantastically -against our escaping the consequences of the discovery; still, we did, -and now we know how to control it.</p> - -<p>"As to the very close lines, theory now seems to indicate that there -is no actual physical separation between lines; those microscopically -close to one another actually merge or blend. It's difficult to -explain. One actually wanders from one to another, at random, you know. -In fact, such is the curious nature of infinity, that there seem to be -an infinite number of infinitely close lines we're constantly shifting -about in. Usually this makes no difference; we don't notice it, any -more than we're aware of hopping along from one temporal point to the -next as normal entropy progresses."</p> - -<p>At my puzzled frown he added, "The lines run both ways, you know, in an -infinite number of directions. If we could run straight back along the -normal E-line, we'd be travelling into the past. This won't work, for -practical reasons involving two bodies occupying the same space, and -all that sort of thing. The Maxoni principle enables us to move in a -manner which we think of as being at right angles to the normal drift. -With it, we can operate through 360 degrees, but always at the same -E-level at which we start. Thus, we will arrive at Stockholm Zero Zero -at the same moment we departed from B-I Three." Winter laughed. "This -detail caused no end of misunderstanding and counter-accusation on the -first trials."</p> - -<p>"So we're all shifting from one universe to another all the time -without knowing it," I said skeptically.</p> - -<p>"Not necessarily all of us, not all the time," Winter said. "But -emotional stress seems to have the effect of displacing one. Of course -with the relative positions of two grains of sand, or even of two atoms -within a grain of sand being the only difference between two adjacent -lines, you'd not be likely to notice. But at times greater slips occur -with most individuals. Perhaps you yourself have noticed some tiny -discrepancy at one time or another; some article apparently moved or -lost; some sudden change in the character of someone you know; false -recollections of past events. The universe isn't all as rigid as one -might like to believe."</p> - -<p>"You're being awfully plausible, Winter," I said. "Let's pretend I -accept your story. Now tell me about this vehicle."</p> - -<p>"Just a small mobile MC station, mounted on an auto-propelled chassis. -It can move about on level ground or paved areas, and also in calm -water. It enables us to do most of our spatial maneuvering on our own -ground, so to speak, and avoid the hazards of attempting to conduct -ground operations in strange areas."</p> - -<p>"Where are the rest of the men in your party?" I asked. "There are at -least three more of you."</p> - -<p>"They're all at their assigned posts," Winter said. "There's another -small room containing the drive mechanism forward of the control -compartment."</p> - -<p>"What's this stuff for?" I indicated the box on the desk from which I'd -gotten the gun.</p> - -<p>Winter looked at it, then said ruefully, "So that's where you -acquired the weapon. I knew you'd been searched. Damned careless of -Doyle—bloody souvenir hunter! I told him to submit everything to -me for approval before we returned, so I suppose it's my fault." He -touched his aching hand tenderly.</p> - -<p>"Don't feel too bad about it. I'm just a clever guy," I said. "However, -I'm not very brave. As a matter of fact, I'm scared to death of what's -in store for me when we arrive at our destination."</p> - -<p>"You'll be well treated, Mr. Bayard," Winter assured me. I let that -one pass. Maybe when we arrived, I could come out shooting, making an -escape. That line of thought didn't seem very encouraging either. What -would I do next, loose in this Imperium of Winter's? What I needed was -a return ticket home. I found myself thinking of it as B-I Three, and -realized I was beginning to accept Winter's story. I took a drink from -the blue bottle.</p> - -<p>"Why don't we explode when we pass through one of those empty-space -lines, or burn in the hot ones?" I asked suddenly. "Suppose we found -ourselves peeking out from inside one of those hunks of rock you were -photographing?"</p> - -<p>"We don't linger about long enough, old boy," Winter said. "We remain -in any one line for no finite length of time, therefore there's no time -for us to react physically to our surroundings."</p> - -<p>"How can you take pictures and use communicators?"</p> - -<p>"The camera remains inside the field. The photo is actually a -composite exposure of all the lines we cross during the instant of the -exposure. The lines differ hardly at all, of course, and the prints -are quite clear. Light, of course, is a condition, not an event. Our -communicators employ a sort of grating which spreads the transmission."</p> - -<p>"Winter," I said, "this is all extremely interesting, but I get the -impression that you have small regard for a man's comfort. I think you -might be planning to use me in some sort of colorful experiment, and -then throw me away—toss me out into one of those cosmic junk heaps -you showed me. And that stuff in the blue bottle isn't quite soothing -enough to drive the idea out of my mind."</p> - -<p>"Great heavens, old boy!" Winter sat bolt upright. "Nothing of that -sort, I can assure you. Why, we're not blasted barbarians! Since you -are an object of official interest of the Imperium, you can be assured -of humane and honorable treatment."</p> - -<p>"I didn't like what you said about concentration points a while back. -That sounds like jail to me."</p> - -<p>"Not at all," Winter expostulated. "There are a vast number of very -pleasant A-lines well outside the Blight which are either completely -uninhabited, or are occupied by backward or underdeveloped peoples. One -can well nigh select the technological and cultural level in which one -would like to live. All interrogation subjects are most scrupulously -provided for; they're supplied with everything necessary to live in -comfort for the remainder of their normal lives."</p> - -<p>"Marooned on a desert island, or parked in a native village? That -doesn't sound too jolly to me," I said. "I'd rather be at home."</p> - -<p>Winter smiled speculatively. "What would you say to being set up with -a fortune in gold, and placed in a society closely resembling that of, -say, England in the seventeenth century with the added advantage that -you'd have electricity, plenty of modern literature, supplies for a -lifetime, whatever you wished. You must remember that we have all the -resources of the universe to draw upon."</p> - -<p>"I'd like it better if I had a little more choice," I said.</p> - -<p>"Suppose we keep right on going, once we're clear of the Blight," I -said. "That reception committee wouldn't be waiting then. You could run -this buggy back to B-I Three. I could force you."</p> - -<p>"See here, Bayard," Winter said impatiently. "You have a gun. Very -well, shoot me; shoot all of us. What would that gain you? The -operation of this machine requires a very high technical skill. The -controls are set for automatic return to the starting point. It is -absolutely against Imperium policy to return a subject to the line from -which he was taken. The only thing for you to do is cooperate with -us, and you have my assurance as an Imperial officer that you will be -treated honorably."</p> - -<p>I looked at the gun. "According to the movies," I said, "the fellow -with the rod always gets his own way. But you don't seem to care -whether I shoot you or not."</p> - -<p>Winter smiled. "Aside from the fact that you've had quite a few -draughts from my brandy flask and probably couldn't hit the wall with -that weapon you're holding, I assure...."</p> - -<p>"You're always assuring me," I said. I tossed the pistol onto the desk. -I put my feet up on the polished top, and leaned back in the chair. -"Wake me up when we get there. I'll want to fix my face."</p> - -<p>Winter laughed. "Now you're being reasonable, old boy. It would be -damned embarrassing for me to have to warn the personnel at base that -you were waving a pistol about."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph1">Chapter 3</p> - - -<p>I woke up with a start. My neck ached abominably; so did the rest of -me, as soon as I moved. I groaned, dragged my feet down off the desk, -and sat up. There was something wrong. Winter was gone and the humming -had stopped. I jumped up.</p> - -<p>"Winter," I shouted. I had a vivid picture of myself marooned in one of -those hell-worlds. At that moment I realized I wasn't half as afraid of -arriving at Zero Zero as I was of not getting there.</p> - -<p>Winter pushed the door open and glanced in. "I'll be with you in a -moment, Mr. Bayard," he said. "We've arrived on schedule."</p> - -<p>I was nervous. The gun was gone. I told myself it was no worse than -going to one of the ambassador's receptions. My best bet was to walk in -as though I'd thought of it myself.</p> - -<p>The two bouncers came in, followed by Winter. One of the two men pushed -the door open, and stood at attention beside it. Beyond the opening I -could see muted sunshine on a level paved surface, and a group of men -in white uniforms, looking in our direction.</p> - -<p>I stepped down through the door and looked around. We were in a large -shed, looking something like a railroad station. A group of men in -white uniforms were waiting.</p> - -<p>One of them stepped forward. "By Jove, Winter," he said. "You've -brought it off. Congratulations, old man." The others came up, gathered -around Winter, asking questions, turning to stare at me. None of them -said anything to me. To hell with them, I thought. I turned and started -strolling toward the front of the shed. There was one door with a -sentry box arrangement beside it. I gave the man on duty a glance and -started past.</p> - -<p>"You'd better memorize this face," I said coolly. "You'll be seeing a -great deal of it from now on. I'm your new commander." I looked him up -and down. "Your uniform is in need of attention." I turned and went on.</p> - -<p>Winter appeared at that point, putting an end to what would have been a -very neat escape. But where the hell would I have gone?</p> - -<p>"Here, old man," he said. "Don't go wandering about. I'm to take you -directly to Royal Intelligence, where you'll doubtless find out a bit -more about the reasons for your, ah—" Winter cleared his throat, -"visit."</p> - -<p>"I thought it was Imperial Intelligence," I said. "And for the high -level operation this is supposed to be, this is a remarkably modest -reception. I thought there would be a band, or at least a couple of -cops with handcuffs."</p> - -<p>"Royal Swedish Intelligence," Winter explained briskly. "Sweden will -bring tributary to the Emperor, of course. Imperial Intelligence chaps -will be on hand. As for your reception, we don't believe in making much -fuss, you know." Winter waved me into a boxy black staff car which -waited at the curb. It swung out at once into light traffic which -pulled out of our way as we rode down the center of the broad avenue.</p> - -<p>"I thought your scout just travelled cross-ways," I said, "and stayed -in the same spot on the map. This doesn't look like the hilly area of -the Old Town."</p> - -<p>"You have a suspicious mind and an eye for detail," Winter said. "We -maneuvered the scout through the streets to the position of the ramps -before going into drive. We're on the north side of the city now."</p> - -<p>Our giant car roared across a bridge, and swirled into a long gravel -drive leading to a wrought-iron gate before a massive grey granite -building. The people I saw looked perfectly ordinary, with the -exception of a few oddities of dress and an unusually large number of -gaudy uniforms. The guard at the iron gate was wearing a cherry-colored -tunic, white trousers, and a black steel helmet surmounted by a gold -spike and a deep purple plume. He presented arms—a short and wicked -looking nickel-plated machine gun—and as the gate swung wide we eased -past him and stopped before broad doors of polished iron-bound oak. A -brass plate beside the entrance said Kungliga Svenska Spionage.</p> - -<p>I said nothing as we walked down a spotless white marble-floored hall, -entered a spacious elevator, and rode up to the top floor. We walked -along another hall, this one paved with red granite, and paused before -a large door at the end. There was no one else around.</p> - -<p>"Just relax, Mr. Bayard. Answer all questions fully, and use the same -forms of address as I do."</p> - -<p>"I'll try not to fall down," I said. Winter looked as nervous as I felt -as he opened the door after a polite tap.</p> - -<p>The room was an office, large and handsomely furnished. Across a wide -expanse of grey rug three men sat around a broad desk, behind which -sat a fourth. Winter closed the door, walked across the room with me -trailing behind him, and came to a rigid position of attention ten feet -from the desk. His arms swung up in a real elbow-buster of a salute and -held it.</p> - -<p>"Sir, Chief Captain Winter reports as ordered," he said in a strained -voice.</p> - -<p>"Very good, Winter," said the man behind the desk, sketching a salute -casually. Winter brought his arm down with a snap. He rotated rigidly -toward the others.</p> - -<p>"<i>Kaiserliche Hochheit</i>," he said, bowing stiffly from the waist at -one of the seated figures. "Chief Inspector," he greeted the second, -while the third, a rather paunchy fellow with a jolly expression and a -somehow familiar face, rated just "Sir."</p> - -<p>"'<i>Hochwelgeboren</i>' will do," murmured the lean aristocratic-looking -one whom Winter had addressed first. Apparently instead of an imperial -highness he was only a high-well-born. Winter turned bright pink. -"I beg your Excellency's pardon," he said in a choked voice. The -round-faced man grinned broadly.</p> - -<p>The man behind the desk had been studying me intently during this -exchange. "Please be seated, Mr. Bayard," he said pleasantly, -indicating an empty chair directly in front of the desk. Winter was -still standing rigidly. The man glanced at him. "Stand at ease, Chief -Captain," he said in a dry tone, turning back to me.</p> - -<p>"I hope that your being brought here has not prejudiced you against us -unduly, Mr. Bayard," he said. He had a long gaunt face with a heavy jaw.</p> - -<p>"I am General Bernadotte," he went on. "These gentlemen are the Friherr -von Richthofen, Chief Inspector Bale, and Mr. Goering." I nodded at -them. Bale was a thin broad-shouldered man with a small bald head. He -wore an expression of disapproval.</p> - -<p>Bernadotte went on. "I would like first to assure you that our decision -to bring you here was not made lightly. I know that you have many -questions, and all will be answered fully. For the present, I shall -tell you frankly that we have called you here to ask for your help."</p> - -<p>I hadn't been prepared for this. I don't know what I expected, but to -have this panel of high-powered brass asking for my puny assistance -left me opening and closing my mouth without managing to say anything.</p> - -<p>"It's remarkable," commented the paunchy civilian. I looked at him. -Winter had called him Mr. Goering. I thought of pictures of Hitler's -gross Air Chief.</p> - -<p>"Not Hermann Goering?" I said.</p> - -<p>The fat man looked surprised, and a smile spread across his face.</p> - -<p>"Yes, my name is Hermann," he said. "How did you know this?" He had a -fairly heavy German accent.</p> - -<p>I found it hard to explain. This was something I hadn't thought -of—actual doubles or analogs of figures in my own world. Now I knew -beyond a doubt that Winter had not been lying to me.</p> - -<p>"Back where I came from, everyone knows your name," I said. -"Reichmarshall Goering...."</p> - -<p>"Reichmarshall!" Goering repeated. "What an intriguing title!" -He looked around at the others. "Is this not a most interesting -and magnificent information?" He beamed. "I, poor fat Hermann, a -Reichmarshall, and known to all." He was delighted.</p> - -<p>"Multi-phased reality is, of course, rather a shocking thing to -encounter suddenly," the general said, "after a lifetime of living in -one's own narrow world. To those of us who have grown up with it, it -seems only natural and in keeping with the principles of multiplicity -and the continuum. The idea of a monolinear casual sequence is seen to -be an artificially restrictive conception, an oversimplification of -reality growing out of human egotism."</p> - -<p>The other four men listened as attentively as I. It was very quiet, -with only the occasional faint sounds of traffic from the street below.</p> - -<p>"Insofar as we have been able to determine thus far from our studies of -the B-I Three line, from which you come, our two lines share a common -history up to about the year 1790. They remain parallel in many ways -for about another century; thereafter they diverge rather sharply.</p> - -<p>"Here in our world, two Italian scientists, Giulio Maxoni and Carlo -Cocini, in the year 1893, made a basic discovery, which, after several -years of study, they embodied in a device which enabled them to move -about at will through a wide range of what we now term Alternative -lines, or A-lines.</p> - -<p>"Cocini lost his life in an early exploratory test, and Maxoni -determined to offer the machine to the Italian government. He was -rudely rebuffed.</p> - -<p>"After several years of harassment by the Italian press, which -ridiculed him unmercifully, Maxoni went to England, and offered his -invention to the British government. There was a long and very cautious -period of negotiation, but eventually a bargain was struck. Maxoni -received a title, estates, and one million pounds in gold. He died a -year later.</p> - -<p>"The British government now had sole control of the most important -basic human discovery since the wheel. The wheel gave man the power to -move easily across the surface of his world; the Maxoni principle gave -him all the worlds to move about in."</p> - -<p>Leather creaked faintly as I moved in my chair. The general leaned back -and drew a deep breath. He smiled.</p> - -<p>"I hope that I am not overwhelming you with an excess of historical -detail, Mr. Bayard."</p> - -<p>"Not at all," I replied. "I'm very much interested."</p> - -<p>He went on. "At that time the British government was negotiating with -the Imperial Germanic government in an effort to establish workable -trade agreements, and avoid a fratricidal war, which then appeared to -be inevitable if appropriate spheres of influence were not agreed upon.</p> - -<p>"The acquisition of the Maxoni papers placed a different complexion -on the situation. Rightfully feeling that they now had a considerably -more favorable position from which to negotiate, the British suggested -an amalgamation of the two empires into the present Anglo-Germanic -Imperium, with the House of Hanover-Windsor occupying the Imperial -throne. Sweden signed the Concord shortly thereafter, and after the -resolution of a number of differences in detail, the Imperium came into -being on January 1, 1900."</p> - -<p>I had the feeling the general was over-simplifying things. I wondered -how many people had been killed in the process of resolving the minor -details. I kept the thought to myself.</p> - -<p>"Since its inception," the general continued, "the Imperium has -conducted a program of exploration, charting, and study of the -A-continuum. It was quickly determined that for a vast distance on -all sides of the home line, utter desolation existed; outside that -lighted region, however, were the infinite resources of countless -lines. Those lines lying just outside the Blight seem uniformly to -represent a divergence point at about 400 years in the past; that is -to say, our common histories differentiate about the year 1550. As one -travels further out, the divergence date recedes. At the limits of our -explorations to date the CH dated is about 1,000,000 B.C."</p> - -<p>I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing. This seemed to be all -right with Bernadotte.</p> - -<p>"Then, in 1947, examination of photos made by automatic camera scouts -revealed an anomaly; an apparently normal, inhabited world, lying well -within the Blight. It took weeks of careful searching to pinpoint the -line. For the first time, we were visiting a world closely analogous to -our own, in which many of the institutions of our own world should be -duplicated.</p> - -<p>"We had hopes of a fruitful liaison between the two worlds, but in this -we were bitterly disappointed."</p> - -<p>The general turned to the bald man whom he had introduced as Chief -Inspector Bale.</p> - -<p>"Chief Inspector," he said, "will you take up the account at this -point?"</p> - -<p>Bale sat up in his chair, folded his hands, and began.</p> - -<p>"In September 1948 two senior agents of Imperial Intelligence were -dispatched with temporary rank of Career Minister and full diplomatic -accreditization, to negotiate an agreement with the leaders of the -National People's State. This political unit actually embraces most of -the inhabitable world of the B-I Two line. A series of frightful wars, -employing some sort of radioactive explosives, had destroyed the better -part of civilization.</p> - -<p>"Europe was a shambles. We found that the NPS headquarters was in North -Africa, and had as its nucleus the former French colonial government -there. The top man was a ruthless ex-soldier who had established -himself as uncontested dictator of what remained of things. His army -was made up of units of all the previous combatants, held together by -the promise of free lotting and top position in a new society based on -raw force.</p> - -<p>"Our agents approached a military sub-chief, calling himself -Colonel-General Yang, in charge of a ragtag mob of ruffians in motley -uniforms, and asked to be conducted to the headquarters of the -dictator. Yang had them clapped into a cell and beaten insensible in -spite of their presentation of diplomatic passports and identity cards.</p> - -<p>"He did however send them along to the dictator to have an interview. -During the talk, the fellow drew a pistol and shot one of my two chaps -through the head, killing him instantly. When this failed to make the -other volunteer anything further than that he was an accredited envoy -of the Imperial government requesting an <i>exequatur</i> and appropriate -treatment, prior to negotiating an international agreement, he was -turned over to experienced torturers.</p> - -<p>"Under torture, the agent gave out just enough to convince his -interrogators that he was insane; he was released to starve or die of -wounds. We managed to spot him and pick him up in time to get the story -before he died."</p> - -<p>I still had no comment to make. It didn't sound pretty, but then I -wasn't too enthusiastic about the methods employed by the Imperium -either. The general resumed the story.</p> - -<p>"We resolved to make no attempt at punitive action, but simply to leave -this unfortunate line in isolation.</p> - -<p>"About a year ago, an event occurred which rendered this policy no -longer tenable." Bernadotte turned to the lean-faced man.</p> - -<p>"Manfred, I will ask you to cover this part of the briefing."</p> - -<p>"Units of our Net Surveillance Service detected activity at a point -some distance within the area called Sector 92," Richthofen began. -"This was a contingency against which we had been on guard from the -first. A heavily armed MC unit of unknown origin had dropped into -identity with one of our most prized industrial lines, one of a group -with which we conduct a multi-billion pound trade. The intruder -materialized in a population center, and released virulent poisonous -gases, killing hundreds. Masked troops then emerged, only a platoon -or two of them, and proceeded to strip bodies, loot shops—an orgy -of wanton destruction. Our NSS scout arrived some hours after the -attackers had departed. The scout, in turn, was subjected to a heavy -attack by the justifiably aroused inhabitants of the area before it was -able to properly identify itself as an Imperium vessel."</p> - -<p>Richthofen had a disdainful frown on his face. "I personally conducted -the rescue and salvage operation; over four hundred innocent civilians -dead, valuable manufacturing facilities destroyed by fire, production -lines disrupted, the population entirely demoralized. A bitter -spectacle for us."</p> - -<p>"You see, Mr. Bayard," Bernadotte said, "we are well nigh helpless to -protect our friends against such forays. Although we have developed -extremely effective MC field detection devices, the difficulty of -reaching the scene of an attack in time is practically insurmountable. -The actual transit takes no time, but locating the precise line -among numerous others is an extremely delicate operation. Our homing -devices make it possible, but only after we have made a very close -approximation manually."</p> - -<p>"In quick succession thereafter," Richthofen continued, "we suffered -seven similar raids. Then the pattern changed. The raiders began -appearing in numbers, with large cargo-carrying units. They also set -about rounding up all the young women at each raid, and taking them -along into captivity. It became obvious that a major threat to the -Imperium had come into existence.</p> - -<p>"At last we had the good fortune to detect a raider's field in the -close vicinity of one of our armed scouts. It quickly dropped in on a -converging course, and located the pirate about twenty minutes after -it had launched its attack. The commander of the scout quite properly -opened up at once with high explosive cannon and blew the enemy to -rubble. Its crew, although demoralized by the loss of their vessel, -nevertheless resisted capture almost to the last man. We were able to -secure only two prisoners for interrogation."</p> - -<p>I wondered how the Imperium's method of interrogation compared with -those of the dictator of B-I Two, but I didn't ask. I might find out -soon enough.</p> - -<p>"We learned a great deal more than we expected from our prisoners. They -were the talkative, boastful type. The effectiveness of the raiding -parties depended on their striking unexpectedly and departing quickly. -The number of pirate vessels was placed at no more than four, each -manned by about fifty men. They boasted of a great weapon held in -reserve, and which would be used to avenge them. It was apparent from -the remarks of the prisoners that they had not had the MC drive long, -and that they knew nothing of the configuration of the Net, or of the -endless ramifications of simultaneous reality.</p> - -<p>"They seemed to think their fellows would find our base and destroy it -with ease. They also had only a vague idea of the extent and nature of -the Blight. They mentioned that several of their ships had disappeared, -doubtless into that region. It appears also, happily for us, that they -have only the most elementary detection devices and that their controls -are erratic in the extreme. But the information of real importance was -the identity of the raiders."</p> - -<p>Richthofen paused for dramatic effect. "It was our unhappy sister -world, B-I Two."</p> - -<p>"Somehow," Bernadotte took up the story, "in spite of their condition -of chaotic social disorder and their destructive wars, they had -succeeded in harnessing the MC principle. Their apparatus is even more -primitive than that with which we began almost sixty years ago; yet -they have escaped disaster.</p> - -<p>"The next move came with startling suddenness. Whether by virtue of an -astonishingly rapid scientific development, or by sheer persistence and -blind luck, one of their scouts succeeded, last month, in locating the -Zero Zero line of the Imperium itself. The vessel dropped into identity -with our continuum on the outskirts of the city of Berlin, one of the -royal capitals.</p> - -<p>"The crew had apparently been prepared for their visit. They planted -a strange device atop a flimsy tower in a field, and embarked -instantly. Within a matter of three minutes, as well as we have been -able to determine, the device detonated with unbelievable force. -Over a square mile was absolutely desolated; casualties ran into the -thousands. And the entire area still remains poisoned with some form of -radiation-producing debris which renders the region uninhabitable."</p> - -<p>I nodded. "I think I understand," I said.</p> - -<p>"Yes," the general said, "you have something of this sort in your B-I -Three world also, do you not?"</p> - -<p>I assumed the question was rhetorical and said nothing.</p> - -<p>Bernadotte continued. "Crude though their methods are, they have -succeeded already in flaunting the Imperium. It is only a matter of -time, we feel, before they develop adequate controls and detection -devices. We will then be faced with the prospect of hordes of ragged -but efficient soldiers, armed with the frightful radium bombs with -which they destroyed their own culture, descending on the mother world -of the Imperium.</p> - -<p>"This eventuality is one for which it has been necessary to make -preparation. There seemed to be two possibilities, both equally -undesirable. We could await further attack, meanwhile readying our -defenses, of doubtful value against the fantastic explosives of the -enemy; or we could ourselves mount an offensive, launching a massive -invasion force against B-I Two. The logistics problems involved in -either plan would be unbelievably complex."</p> - -<p>I was learning a few things about the Imperium. In the first place, -they did not have the atomic bomb, and had no conception of its power. -Their consideration of war against an organized military force armed -with atomics was proof of that. Also, not having had the harsh lessons -of two major wars to assist them, they were naive, almost backward, in -some ways. They thought more like Europeans of the nineteenth century -than modern westerners.</p> - -<p>"About one month ago, Mr. Bayard," Bale took over, "a new factor was -introduced, giving us a third possibility. In the heart of the Blight, -at only a very little distance from B-I Two, and even closer to us than -it, we found a second surviving line. That line was of course your home -world, designated Blight-Insular Three.</p> - -<p>"Within seventy-two hours one hundred and fifty special agents had been -placed at carefully scouted positions in B-I Three. We were determined -to make no blunders; too much was at stake. As the information flowed -in from our men, all of whom, being top agents, had succeeded in -establishing their cover identities without difficulty, it was -immediately passed to the General Staff and to the Imperial Emergency -Cabinet for study. The two bodies remained in constant session for over -a week without developing any adequate scheme for handling the new -factor.</p> - -<p>"One committee of the Emergency Cabinet was assigned the important -task of determining as closely as possible the precise CH relationship -of B-I Three with both B-I Two and the Imperium. This is an extremely -tricky chore as it is quite possible for an amazing parallelism to -exist in one phase of an A-line while the most fantastic variants crop -up in another.</p> - -<p>"One week ago today the committee reported findings they considered to -be ninety-eight per cent reliable. Your B-I Three line shared history -of the B-I Two until the date 1911, probably early in the year. At -that point, my colleague, Mr. Goering, of German Intelligence, who had -been sitting in on the meeting, made a brilliant contribution. His -suggestion was immediately adopted. All agents were alerted at once to -drop all other lines of inquiry and concentrate on picking up a trace -of—" Bale looked at me.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Brion Bayard."</p> - -<p>They knew I was on the verge of exploding from pure curiosity, so I -just sat and looked back at Bale. He pursed his lips. He sure as hell -didn't like me.</p> - -<p>"We picked you up from records at your university—" Bale frowned at -me. "Something like aluminium alloy...."</p> - -<p>Bale must be an Oxford man, I thought.</p> - -<p>"Illinois," I said.</p> - -<p>"At any rate," Bale went on, "it was a relatively simple matter -to follow you up then through your military service and into your -Diplomatic Service. Our man just missed you at your Legation at -Viat-Kai."</p> - -<p>"Consulate General," I corrected.</p> - -<p>It annoyed Bale. I was glad; I didn't like him much either.</p> - -<p>"You had left the post the preceding day and were proceeding to your -headquarters via Stockholm. We had a man on the spot; he kept tabs on -you until the shuttle could arrive. The rest you know."</p> - -<p>There was a lengthening silence. I shifted in my chair, looking from -one expressionless face to another.</p> - -<p>"All right," I said. "It seems I'm supposed to ask, so I'll oblige, -just to speed things along. Why me?"</p> - -<p>Almost hesitantly General Bernadotte opened a drawer of the desk and -drew out a flat object wrapped in brown paper. He removed the paper -very deliberately as he spoke.</p> - -<p>"I have here an official portrait of the dictator of the world of -Blight-Insular Two," he said. "One of the two artifacts we have been -able to bring along from that unhappy region. Copies of this picture -are posted everywhere there."</p> - -<p>He passed it over to me. It was a crude lithograph, in color, showing -a man in uniform, the chest as far down as the picture extended -covered with medals. Beneath the portrait was the legend: "His Martial -Excellency, Duke of Algiers, Warlord of the Combined Forces, Marshal -General of the State, Brion The First Bayard, Dictator."</p> - -<p>The picture was of me.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph1">Chapter 4</p> - - -<p>I stared at the garish portrait for a long time. It wasn't registering; -I had a feeling of disorientation. There was too much to absorb.</p> - -<p>"Now you will understand, Mr. Bayard, why we have brought you here," -the general said, as I silently handed the picture back to him. "You -represent our hidden ace. But only if you consent to help us of your -own free will." He turned to Richthofen again.</p> - -<p>"Manfred, will you outline our plan to Mr. Bayard?"</p> - -<p>Richthofen cleared his throat. "Quite possibly," he said, "we -could succeed in disposing of the Dictator Bayard by bombing his -headquarters. This, however, would merely create a temporary diversion -until a new leader emerged. The organization of the enemy seems to be -such that no more than a very brief respite would be gained, if any at -all, before the attacks would be resumed; and we are not prepared to -sustain such onslaughts as these.</p> - -<p>"No, it is far better for our purpose that Bayard remain the leader of -the National People's State—and that we control him." Here he looked -intently at me.</p> - -<p>"A specially equipped TNL scout, operated by our best pilot technician, -could plant a man within the private apartment which occupies the top -floor of the dictator's palace at Algiers. We believe that a resolute -man introduced into the palace in this manner, armed with the most -effective hand weapons at our disposal, could succeed in locating -and entering the dictator's sleeping chamber, assassinating him, and -disposing of the body.</p> - -<p>"If that man were you, Mr. Bayard, fortified by ten days' intensive -briefing and carrying a small net-communicator, we believe that you -could assume the identity of the dead man and rule as absolute dictator -over Bayard's twenty million fighting men."</p> - -<p>"Do I have another double here," I said, "in your Imperium?"</p> - -<p>Bernadotte shook his head. "No, you have remote cousins here, nothing -closer."</p> - -<p>They all watched me. I could see that all three of them expected me to -act solemn and modest at the honor, and set out to do or die for the -fatherland. They were overlooking a few things, though. This wasn't my -fatherland; I'd been kidnapped and brought here. And oddly enough, I -could not see myself murdering anybody—especially, I had the grotesque -thought—myself. I didn't even like the idea of being dropped down in -the midst of a pack of torturers.</p> - -<p>I was ready to tell them so in very definite terms, when my eye fell on -Bale. He was wearing a supercilious half-smile, and I could see that -this was just what he expected. His contempt for me was plain. I sensed -that he thought of me as the man who had killed his best agent in cold -blood, a cowardly blackguard. My mouth was open to speak; but under -that sneering expression, different words came out—temporizing words. -I wouldn't give Bale the satisfaction of being right.</p> - -<p>"And after I'm in charge of B-I Two, what then?" I said.</p> - -<p>"You will be in constant touch with Imperial Intelligence via -communicator," Richthofen said eagerly. "You'll receive detailed -instructions as to each move to make. We should be able to immobilize -B-I Two within six months. You'll then be returned here."</p> - -<p>"I won't be returned home?"</p> - -<p>"Mr. Bayard," Bernadotte said seriously, "you will never be able to -return to B-I Three. The Imperium will offer you any reward you wish -to name, except that. The consequences of revealing the existence of -the Imperium to your line at this time are far too serious to permit -consideration of the idea. However—"</p> - -<p>All eyes were on Bernadotte. He looked as though what he was about to -say was important.</p> - -<p>"I have been authorized by the Emergency Cabinet," he said with -gravity, "to offer you an Imperial commission in the rank of Major -General, Mr. Bayard. If you accept this commission, your first -assignment will be as we have outlined." Bernadotte handed a heavy -piece of parchment across the table to me. "You should know, Mr. -Bayard, that the Imperium does not award commissions, particularly that -of General Officer, lightly."</p> - -<p>"It will be a most unusual rank," Goering said, smiling. "Normally -there is no such rank in the Imperium Service; Lieutenant General, -Colonel General, Major General. You will be unique."</p> - -<p>"We adopted the rank from your own armed forces, as a special mark of -esteem, Mr. Bayard," Bernadotte said. "It is no less authentic for -being unusual."</p> - -<p>It was a fancy sheet of paper. The Imperium was prepared to pay off -well for this job they needed done—anything I wanted. And doubtless, -they thought the strange look on my face was greed at the thought of -a general's two stars. Well, let them think it. I didn't want to give -them any more information which might be used against me.</p> - -<p>"I'll think about it," I said. Bale looked disconcerted now. After -expecting me to back out, he had apparently then expected me to be -dazzled by the reward I was being offered. I'd let him worry about it. -Suddenly Bale bored me.</p> - -<p>Bernadotte hesitated. "I'm going to take an unprecedented step, Mr. -Bayard," he said. "For the present, on my personal initiative as head -of State, I'm confirming you as Colonel in the Royal Army of Sweden -without condition. I do this to show my personal confidence in you, -as well as for more practical reasons." He rose and smiled ruefully, -as though unsure of my reaction. "Congratulations, Colonel," he said, -holding out his hand.</p> - -<p>I stood up too. I noticed everyone had.</p> - -<p>"You must have twenty-four hours to consider your decision, Colonel," -he said. "I'll leave you in the excellent care of Graf von Richthofen -and Mr. Goering until then."</p> - -<p>Richthofen turned to Winter, still standing silently by. "Won't you -join us, Chief Captain," he said.</p> - -<p>"Delighted," Winter said.</p> - -<p>"Congratulations, old boy, er, Sir," Winter said as soon as we were in -the hall. "You made quite a hit with the general." He seemed quite his -jaunty self again.</p> - -<p>I eyed him. "You mean King Gustav?" I said.</p> - -<p>Winter blinked. "But how did you know?" he said. "I mean dash it, how -the devil did you know?"</p> - -<p>"But it must be," Goering said with enthusiasm, "that also he in your -home world is known, not so?"</p> - -<p>"That's right, Mr. Goering," I said, "now you've dispelled my aura of -mystery."</p> - -<p>Goering chuckled. "Please, Mr. Bayard, you must call me Hermann." He -gripped my arm in friendly fashion as we moved down the hall. "Now you -must tell us more about this intriguing world of yours."</p> - -<p>Richthofen spoke up. "I suggest we go along to my summer villa at -Drottningholm and enjoy a dinner and a couple of good vintages while we -hear all about your home, Mr. Bayard; and we shall tell you of ours."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph1">Chapter 5</p> - - -<p>I stood before a long mirror and eyed myself, not without approval. Two -tailors had been buzzing around me like bees for half an hour, putting -the finishing touches on their handiwork. I had to admit they had done -all right.</p> - -<p>I now wore narrow-cut riding breeches of fine grey whip-cord, short -black boots of meticulously stitched and polished black leather, a -white linen shirt without collar or cuffs beneath a mess jacket of -royal blue, buttoned to the chin. A gold bordered blue stripe ran down -the side of the trousers and heavy loops of gold braid ringed the -sleeves from wrist to elbow. A black leather belt with a large square -buckle bearing the Royal Swedish crest supported a jeweled scabbard -containing a slender rapier with an ornate hilt.</p> - -<p>In the proper position on the left side of the chest were, to my -astonishment, a perfectly accurate set of my World War II Service -medals and the Silver Star. On the shoulder straps, the bright silver -eagles of a U.S. Colonel gleamed. I was wearing the full dress uniform -of my new position in the Imperium society.</p> - -<p>I was glad now I hadn't let myself deteriorate into the flabby -ill-health of the average Foreign Service Officer, soft and pale -from long hours in offices and late hours of heavy drinking at the -interminable diplomatic functions. My shoulders were reasonably broad, -my back reasonably straight, no paunch marred the lines of my new -finery. This outfit made a man look like a man. How the devil had we -gotten into the habit of draping ourselves in shapeless double-breasted -suits, in mousy colors, of identical cut?</p> - -<p>Goering was sitting in a brocaded armchair in the luxurious suite to -which Richthofen had shown me in his villa.</p> - -<p>"You cut a martial figure, Brion," he said. "It is plain to see you -have, for this new job, a natural aptitude."</p> - -<p>"I wouldn't count on it, Hermann," I said. His comment had reminded me -of the other side of the coin; the deadly plans the Imperium had in -mind for me. Well, I could settle that later. Tonight I was going to -enjoy myself.</p> - -<p>Over a dinner of pheasant served on a sunny terrace in the long -Swedish summer evening, Richthofen had explained to me that, in -Swedish society, to be without a title was an extremely awkward social -encumbrance. It was not that one needed an exalted position, he assured -me; merely that there must be something for others to call one—Herr -Doctor, Herr Professor, Ingenjör, Redaktör. My military status would -ease my entry into the world of the Imperium.</p> - -<p>Winter came in then, carrying what looked like a crystal ball.</p> - -<p>"Your topper, sir," he said with a flourish. What he had was a -chrome-plated steel helmet, with a rib running along the top, and a -gold-dyed plume growing out of it.</p> - -<p>"Good God," I said, "Isn't that overdoing it a little?" I took the -helmet; it was feather light, I discovered. The tailor took over, -placed the helmet just so, handed me a pair of white leather gloves, -and faded out.</p> - -<p>"You have to have it, old boy," Winter said. "Dragoons, you know."</p> - -<p>"You are complete," Hermann said. "A masterpiece."</p> - -<p>He was wearing a dark grey uniform with black trim and white insignia. -He had a respectable but not excessive display of ribbons and orders.</p> - -<p>"Hermann," I said expansively, "you should have seen yourself when you -were all rigged out in your medals back home. They came down to here." -I indicated my knees. He laughed.</p> - -<p>Together we left the suite and went down to the study on the ground -floor. Winter, I noted, had changed from his whites to a pale yellow -mess jacket with heavy silver braid and a nickel-plated Luger.</p> - -<p>Richthofen showed up moments later; his outfit consisted of what looked -like a set of tails, circa 1880, with silver buttons and a white beret.</p> - -<p>"We're a cool bunch of cats," I said. I was feeling swell. I caught -another glimpse of myself in a mirror. "Sharp, daddy-o," I murmured.</p> - -<p>A liveried butler swung the glass door open for us and we descended the -steps to a waiting car. This one was a vast yellow phaeton, with the -top down. We slid into our places on the smooth yellow leather seats -and it eased off down the drive.</p> - -<p>It was a magnificent night, with high clouds and a brilliant moon. In -the distance, the lights of the city glittered. We rolled smoothly -along, the engine so silent that the sound of the wind in the tall -trees along the way was clearly audible.</p> - -<p>Goering had thought to bring along a small flask, and by the time we -had each tapped it twice we were passing through the iron gates of -the summer palace. Colored floodlights bathed the gardens and people -already filled the terrace on the south and west sides of the building. -The car dropped us before the gigantic entry and moved off. We made -our way through the crowd, and into the reception hall.</p> - -<p>Light from massive crystal chandeliers glittered on gowns and -uniforms, polished boots and jewels, silks, brocades and velvets. -A straight-backed man in rose-pink bowed over the hand of a lovely -blonde in white. A slender black-clad fellow with a gold and white sash -escorted a lady in green-gold toward the ballroom. The din of laughter -and conversation almost drowned out the strains of the waltz in the -background.</p> - -<p>"All right, boys," I said. "Where's the punch bowl?"</p> - -<p>I don't often set out to get stewed, but when I do, I don't believe in -half measures. I was feeling great, and wanted to keep it that way. At -the moment, I couldn't feel the bruises from my fall, my indignation -over being grabbed was forgotten, and as for tomorrow, I couldn't care -less. I was having a wonderful time. I hoped I wouldn't see Bale's sour -face.</p> - -<p>Everybody talked, asked me eager questions, made introductions. I found -myself talking to someone I finally recognized as Douglas Fairbanks, -Sr. He was a tough-looking old fellow in a naval uniform. I met counts, -dukes, officers of a dozen ranks I'd never heard of, several princes, -and finally a short broad-shouldered man with a heavy sun tan and a -go-to-hell smile whom I finally realized was the son of the Emperor.</p> - -<p>I was still walking and talking like a million dollars, but somewhere -along the line I'd lost what little tact I normally had.</p> - -<p>"Well, Prince William," I said, weaving just a little, "I understood -the House of Hanover-Windsor was the ruling line here. Where I -come from the Hanovers and the Windsors are all tall, skinny and -glum-looking."</p> - -<p>The Prince smiled. "Here, Colonel," he said, "a policy was established -which put an end to that unfortunate situation. The Constitution -requires that the male heir marry a commoner. This not only makes -life more pleasant for the heir, with so many beautiful commoners to -choose from, but maintains the vigor of the line. And it incidentally -produces short men with happy faces occasionally."</p> - -<p>I moved on, meeting people, eating little sandwiches, drinking -everything from aquavit to beer, and dancing with one heavenly-looking -girl after another. For the first time in my life my ten years of -Embassy elbow-bending were standing me in good stead. From the grim -experience gained through seven evenings a week of holding a drink in -my hand from sundown till midnight while pumping other members of the -Diplomatic Corps who thought they were pumping me, I had emerged with a -skill; I could hold my liquor.</p> - -<p>Somewhere along the line I felt the need for a breath of fresh air -and stepped out through the tall French doors onto a dark balustraded -gallery overlooking the gardens. I leaned on the heavy stone rail, -looked up at the stars visible through tall tree-tops, and waited for -the buzzing in my head to die down a little.</p> - -<p>The night air moved in a cool torrent over the dark lawn, carrying -the scent of flowers. Behind me the orchestra played a tune that was -almost, but not quite, a Strauss waltz.</p> - -<p>I pulled off the white gloves that Richthofen had told me I should keep -on when I left my helmet at the checkroom. I unbuttoned the top button -of the tight-fitting jacket.</p> - -<p>I'm getting old, I thought, or maybe just tired.</p> - -<p>"Any why are you tired, Colonel?" a cool feminine voice inquired from -behind me.</p> - -<p>I turned around. "Ah, there you are," I said. "I'm glad. I'd rather be -guilty of talking out loud than of imagining voices."</p> - -<p>I worked on focusing my eyes a little better. She had red hair, and -wore a pale pink gown that started low and stayed with the subject.</p> - -<p>"I'm very glad, as a matter of fact," I added. "I like beautiful -redheads who appear out of nowhere."</p> - -<p>"Not out of nowhere, Colonel," she said. "From in there, where it is so -warm and crowded."</p> - -<p>She spoke excellent English in a low voice, with just enough Swedish -accent to render her tritest speech charming.</p> - -<p>"Precisely," I said. "All those people were making me just a little bit -drunk, so I came out here to recover." I was wearing a silly smile, and -having a thoroughly good time being so eloquent and clever with this -delightful young lady.</p> - -<p>"My father has told me that you are not born to the Imperium, Colonel," -she said. "And that you come from a world where all is the same, yet -different. It should be so interesting to hear about it."</p> - -<p>"Why talk about that place?" I said. "We've forgotten how to have fun -back there. We take ourselves very seriously, and we figure out the -most elaborate excuses for doing the rottenest things to each other...."</p> - -<p>I shook my head. I didn't like that train of thought. "See," I said, "I -always talk like that with my gloves off." I pulled them on again. "And -now," I said grandly, "may I have the pleasure of this dance?"</p> - -<p>It was half an hour before we went back inside to visit the punchbowl. -The orchestra had just begun a waltz when a shattering blast rocked the -floor, and the tall glass doors along the east side of the ballroom -blew in. Through the cloud of dust which followed up the explosion, -a swarm of men in motley remnants of uniforms leaped into the room. -The leader, a black-bearded giant wearing a faded and patched U.S. -Army-type battle jacket and baggy Wehrmacht trousers, jacked the lever -on the side of a short drum-fed machine gun, and squeezed a long burst -into the thick of the crowd.</p> - -<p>Men and women alike fell under the murdering attack, but every man who -remained on his feet rushed the nearest attacker without hesitation. -Standing in the rubble, a bristle-faced redhead wearing an undersized -British sergeant's blouse pumped eight shots from the hip, knocking -down an oncoming officer of the Imperium with every shot; when he -stepped back to jam a new clip into the M-1, the ninth man ran him -through the throat with a jewel-encrusted rapier.</p> - -<p>I still stood frozen, holding my girl's hand. I whirled, started to -shout to her to get back, to run; but the calm look I saw in her eyes -stopped me. She'd rather be decently dead than flee this rabble.</p> - -<p>I jerked my toy sword from its scabbard, dashed to the wall, and moved -along it to the edge of the gaping opening. As the next man pushed -through the cloud of dust and smoke, peering ahead, gripping a shotgun, -I jammed the point of my sword into his neck, hard, and jerked it back -before it was wrenched from my hands. He stumbled on, choking, the -shotgun falling with a clatter. I reached out, raked it in, as another -man appeared. He carried a Colt .45 in his left hand, and he saw me as -I saw him. He swivelled to fire, and as he did I brought the poised -blade down on his arm. The shot went into the floor and the pistol -bounced out of the loose hand. He fell back into the trampling crowd.</p> - -<p>Another fellow lunged out of the dust, cutting across the room, and -saw me. He levelled a heavy rifle on its side across his left forearm. -He moved slowly and clumsily. I saw that his left hand was hanging by -a thread. I grabbed up the shotgun and blew his face off. It had been -about two minutes since the explosion.</p> - -<p>I waited a moment, but no more came through the blasted window. I saw a -wiry ruffian with long yellow hair falling back toward me as he pushed -another magazine into a Browning automatic rifle. I jumped two steps, -set the point of the sword just about where the kidneys should be, and -rammed with both hands. No very elegant style, I thought, but I'm just -a beginner.</p> - -<p>I saw Goering then, arms around a tall fellow who cursed and struggled -to raise his battered sub-machine gun. A gun roared in my ear and the -back of my neck burned. I realized my jump had literally saved my neck. -I ran around to the side of the grappling pair, and shoved the blade -into the thin man's ribs. It grated and stuck, but he wilted. I'm not -much of a sport, I thought, but I guess guns against pig-stickers makes -it even.</p> - -<p>Hermann stepped back, spat disgustedly, and leaped on the nearest -bandit. I wrenched at my sword, but it was wedged tight. I left it and -grabbed up the tommy gun. A long-legged villain was just closing the -chamber of his revolver as I pumped a burst into his stomach. I saw -dust fly from the shabby cloth of his coat as the slugs smacked home.</p> - -<p>I glanced around. Several of the men of the Imperium were firing -captured guns now, and the remnant of the invading mob had fallen back -toward the shattered wall. Bullets cut them down as they stood at bay, -still pouring out a ragged fire. None of them tried to flee.</p> - -<p>I ran forward, sensing something wrong. I raised my gun and cut down a -bloody-faced man as he stood firing two .45 automatics. My last round -nicked a heavy-set carbine man, and the drum was empty. I picked up -another weapon from the floor, as one lone thug still standing pounded -the bolt of his rifle with his palm.</p> - -<p>"Take him alive," someone shouted. The firing stopped and a dozen men -seized the struggling man. The crowd milled, women bending over those -who lay on the floor, men staggering from their exertions. I ran toward -the billowing drapes.</p> - -<p>"Come on," I shouted. "Outside...." I didn't have time or breath to -say more, or to see if anyone came. I leaped across the rubble, out -onto the blasted terrace, leaped the rail, and landed in the garden, -sprawled a little, but still moving. In the light of the colored floods -a grey-painted van, ponderously bulky, sat askew across flower beds. -Besides it, three tattered crewmen struggled with a bulky load. A small -tripod stood on the lawn, awaiting the mounting of their burden. I had -time for one momentary mental vision of what a fission bomb would do -to the summer palace and its occupants, before I dashed at them with -a yell. I fired the pistol I had grabbed, as fast as I could pull -the trigger, and the three men hesitated, pulled against each other, -cursed, and started back toward the open door of their van with the -bomb. One of them fell, and I realized someone behind me was firing -accurately. Another of the men yelped and ran off a few yards to -crumple on the grass. The third jumped for the open door, and a moment -later a rush of air threw dust against my face as the van flicked out -of existence. The sound was like a pool of gasoline igniting.</p> - -<p>The bulky package lay on the ground now, ominous. I felt sure it was -not yet armed. I turned to the others. "Don't touch this thing," I -called. "I'm sure it's some kind of atomic bomb."</p> - -<p>"Nice work, old boy," a familiar voice said. It was Winter, blood -spattered on the pale yellow of his tunic. "Might have known those -chaps were fighting a delaying action for a reason. Are you all right?"</p> - -<p>"Yeah," I said, breathless. "Let's go back inside. They'll need -tourniquets and men to twist them."</p> - -<p>We picked our way through the broken glass, fragments of flagstones, -and splinters of framing, past the flapping drapes, into the brightly -lit dust-rolled ballroom.</p> - -<p>Dead and wounded lay in a rough semicircle around the broken wall. I -recognized a pretty brunette in a blue dress whom I had danced with -earlier, lying on the floor, face waxen. Everyone was splattered with -crimson. I looked around frantically for my redhead, and saw her -kneeling beside a wounded man, binding his head.</p> - -<p>There was a shout. Winter and I whirled. One of the wounded intruders -moved, threw something, then collapsed as shots struck him. I heard the -thump and the rattle as the object fell, and as in a dream I watched -the grenade roll over and over, clattering, stop ten feet away and spin -a half turn. I stood, frozen. Finished, I thought. And I never even -learned her name.</p> - -<p>From behind me I heard a gasp as Winter leaped past me and threw -himself forward. He landed spread-eagled over the grenade as it -exploded with a muffled thump, throwing Winter two feet into the air.</p> - -<p>I staggered, and turned away, dizzy. Poor Winter. Poor damned Winter.</p> - -<p>I felt myself passing out, and went to my knees. The floor was tilting.</p> - -<p>She was bending over me, face pale, but still steady.</p> - -<p>I reached up and touched her hand. "What's your name?" I said.</p> - -<p>"My name?" she said. "Barbro Lundane. I thought you knew my name." She -seemed a bit dazed. I sat up. "Better lend a hand to someone who's -worse off than I am, Barbro," I said. "I just have a weak constitution."</p> - -<p>"No," she said. "You've bled much."</p> - -<p>Richthofen appeared, looking grim. He helped me up. My neck and head -ached. "Thank God you are alive," he said.</p> - -<p>"Thank Winter I'm alive," I replied. "I don't suppose there's a -chance...?"</p> - -<p>"Killed instantly," Richthofen said. "He knew his duty."</p> - -<p>"Poor guy," I said. "It should have been me."</p> - -<p>"We're fortunate it wasn't you," Richthofen said. "It was close. As it -is, you've lost considerable blood. You must come along and rest now."</p> - -<p>"I want to stay here," I said. "Maybe I can do something useful."</p> - -<p>Goering had appeared from somewhere, and he laid an arm across my -shoulders, leading me away.</p> - -<p>"Calmly, now, my friend," he said. "There is no need to feel it so -strongly; he died in performance of his duty, as he would have wished."</p> - -<p>Hermann knew what was bothering me. I could have blanked out that -grenade as easily as Winter, but the thought hadn't even occurred to -me. If I hadn't been paralyzed, I'd have run.</p> - -<p>I didn't struggle; I felt washed out, suddenly suffering a premature -hangover. Manfred joined us at the car, and we drove home in near -silence. I asked about the bomb and Goering said that Bale's men had -taken it over. "Tell them to dump it at sea," I said.</p> - -<p>At the villa, someone waited on the steps as we drove up. I recognized -Bale's rangy figure with the undersized head. I ignored him as he -collared Hermann.</p> - -<p>I went into the dining room, poured a stiff drink at the sideboard, sat -down.</p> - -<p>The others came behind me, talking. I wondered where Bale had been all -evening.</p> - -<p>Bale sat down, eyeing me. He wanted to hear all about the attack. He -seemed to take the news calmly but sourly.</p> - -<p>He looked at me, pursing his lips. "Mr. Goering has told me that you -conducted yourself quite well, Mr. Bayard, during the fight. Perhaps I -was hasty in my judgment of you."</p> - -<p>"Who the hell cares what you think, Bale?" I said. "Where were you when -the lead was flying? Under the rug?"</p> - -<p>Bale turned white, stood up glaring and stalked out of the room. -Goering cleared his throat and Manfred cast an odd look at me as he -rose to perform his hostly duty of conducting a guest to the door.</p> - -<p>"Inspector Bale is not a man easy to associate with," Hermann said. "I -understand your feeling." He rose and came around the table.</p> - -<p>"I feel you should know," he went on, "that he is among the most -skillful with sabre and epee. Make no hasty decision now—"</p> - -<p>"What decision?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Already you have a painful wound," he said. "We must not allow you to -be laid up at this critical time. Are you sure of your skill with a -pistol?"</p> - -<p>"What wound?" I said. "You mean my neck?" I put my hand up to touch -it. I winced; there was a deep gouge, caked with blood. Suddenly I was -aware that the back of my jacket was soggy. That near-miss was a little -nearer than I had thought.</p> - -<p>"I hope you will accord Manfred and myself the honor of seconding you," -Hermann continued, "and perhaps of advising you...."</p> - -<p>"What's this all about, Hermann?" I said. "What do you mean—seconding -me?"</p> - -<p>"Why," he seemed confused, "we wish to stand with you in your meeting -with Bale."</p> - -<p>"Meeting with Bale?" I repeated. I knew I didn't sound very bright. I -was beginning to realize how lousy I felt.</p> - -<p>Goering stopped and looked at me. "Inspector Bale is a man most -sensitive of personal dignity," he said. "You have given him a -tongue-lashing before witnesses, and a well deserved one it was; -however, it remains a certainty that he will demand satisfaction." He -saw that I was still groping. "Bale will challenge you, Brion," he -said. "You must fight him."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph1">Chapter 6</p> - - -<p>I was cold, chilled to the bone. I was still half asleep, and I carried -my head tilted forward and a little to the side in a hopeless attempt -to minimize the vast throbbing ache from the furrow across the back of -my neck.</p> - -<p>Richthofen, Goering and I stood together under spreading linden trees -at the lower end of the Royal Game Park. It was a few minutes before -dawn and I was wondering how a slug in the kneecap would feel.</p> - -<p>There was the faint sound of an engine approaching, and a long car -loomed up in the gloom on the road above, lights gleaming through -morning mist.</p> - -<p>The sound of doors opening and slamming was muffled and indistinct. -Three figures were dimly visible, approaching down the gentle slope. My -seconds moved away to meet them. One of the three detached itself from -the group and stood alone, as I did. That would be Bale.</p> - -<p>Another car pulled in behind the first. The doctor, I thought. In the -dim glow from the second car's small square cowl lights I saw another -figure emerge. I watched; it looked like a woman.</p> - -<p>I heard the murmur of voices, a low chuckle. They were very palsy, I -thought. Everything on a very high plane.</p> - -<p>I thought over what Goering had told me on the way to the field of -honor, as he called it.</p> - -<p>Bale had offered his challenge under the Toth convention. This meant -that the duelists must not try to kill each other; the object of the -game was to inflict painful wounds, to humiliate one's opponent.</p> - -<p>This could be a pretty tricky business. In the excitement of the fight, -it wasn't easy to inflict wounds that were thoroughly humiliating but -definitely not fatal.</p> - -<p>Richthofen had lent me a pair of black trousers and a white shirt for -the performance, and a light overcoat against the pre-dawn chill. I -wished it had been a heavy one. The only warm part of me was my neck, -swathed in bandages.</p> - -<p>The little group broke up now. My two backers approached, smiled -encouragingly, and in low voices invited me to come along. Goering took -my coat. I missed it.</p> - -<p>Bale and his men were walking toward a spot in the clear, where the -early light was slightly better. We moved up to join them.</p> - -<p>"I think we have light enough now, eh, Baron?" said Hallendorf.</p> - -<p>I could see better now; the light was increasing rapidly. Long pink -streamers flew in the east; the trees were still dark in silhouettes.</p> - -<p>Hallendorf stepped up to me, and offered the pistol box. I picked -one of the pistols, without looking at it. Bale took the other, -methodically worked the action, snapped the trigger, examined the -rifling. Richthofen handed each of us a magazine.</p> - -<p>"Five rounds," he said. I had no comment.</p> - -<p>Bale stepped over to the place indicated by Hallendorf and turned his -back. I could see the cars outlined against the sky now. The big one -looked like a '30 Packard, I thought. At Goering's gesture, I took my -post, back to Bale.</p> - -<p>"At the signal, gentlemen," Hallendorf said, "step forward ten paces -and pause; at the command turn and fire. Gentlemen, in the name of the -Emperor and of honor!"</p> - -<p>The white handkerchief in his hand fluttered to the ground. I started -walking. One, two, three....</p> - -<p>There was someone standing by the smaller car. I wondered who it -was ... eight, nine, ten. I stopped, waiting. Hallendorf's voice was -calm. "Turn and fire."</p> - -<p>I turned, holding the pistol at my side. Bale pumped a cartridge into -the chamber, set his feet apart, body sideways to me, left arm behind -his back, and raised his pistol. We were seventy feet apart across the -wet field.</p> - -<p>I started walking toward him. Nobody had said I had to stay in one -spot. Bale lowered his pistol slightly and I saw his pale face, eyes -staring. The pistol came up again, and almost instantly jumped as a -flat crack rang out. The spent cartridge popped up over Bale's head and -dropped on the wet grass, catching the light. A miss.</p> - -<p>I walked on. I had no intention of standing in the half dark, firing -wildly at a half-seen target. I didn't intend to be forced into killing -a man by accident, even if it was his idea. And I didn't intend to be -pushed into solemnly playing Bale's game with him.</p> - -<p>Bale held the automatic at arm's length, following me as I approached. -He could have killed me easily, but that was against the code. The -weapon wavered; he couldn't decide on a target. My moving was bothering -him.</p> - -<p>The pistol steadied and jumped again, the shot sounding faint on the -foggy air. I realized he was trying for the legs; I was close enough -now to see the depressed angle of the barrel.</p> - -<p>He stepped back a pace, set himself again, and raised the Mauser -higher. He was going to try to break a rib, I guessed. A tricky shot, -easy to miss—either way. My stomach muscles tensed with anticipation.</p> - -<p>I didn't hear the next one; the sensation was exactly like a baseball -bat slammed against my side. I felt that I was stumbling, air knocked -from my lungs, but I kept my feet. A great warm ache spread from just -above the hip. Only twenty feet away now. I fought to draw a breath.</p> - -<p>Bale's expression was visible, a stiff shocked look, mouth squeezed -shut. He aimed at my feet and fired twice in rapid succession; I -think by error. One shot went through my boot between the toes of my -right foot, the other in the dirt. I walked up to him. I sucked air -in painfully. I wanted to say something, but I couldn't. It was all I -could do to keep from gasping. Abruptly, Bale backed a step, aimed the -pistol at my chest and pulled the trigger; it clicked. He looked down -at the gun.</p> - -<p>I dropped the Mauser at his feet, doubled my fist, and hit him hard on -the jaw. He reeled back as I turned away.</p> - -<p>I walked over to Goering and Richthofen as the doctor hurried up. They -came forward to meet me.</p> - -<p>"Lieber Gott," Hermann breathed as he seized my hand and pumped it. -"This story they will never believe."</p> - -<p>"If your object was to make a fool of Inspector Bale," Richthofen said -with a gleam in his eye, "you have scored an unqualified success. I -think you have taught him respect."</p> - -<p>The doctor pressed forward. "Gentlemen, I must take a look at the -wound." A stool was produced, and I gratefully sank down on it.</p> - -<p>I stuck my foot out. "Better take a look at this too," I said, "it -feels a little tender."</p> - -<p>The doctor muttered and exclaimed as he began snipping at the cloth -and leather. He was enjoying every minute of it. The doc, I saw, was a -romantic.</p> - -<p>A thought was trying to form itself in my mind. I opened my eyes. -Barbro was coming toward me across the grass, dawn light gleaming in -her red hair. I realized what it was I had to say.</p> - -<p>"Hermann," I said. "Manfred. I need a long nap, but before I start -I think I ought to tell you; I've had so much fun tonight that I've -decided to take the job."</p> - -<p>"Easy, Brion," Manfred said. "There no need to think of it now."</p> - -<p>"No trouble at all," I said.</p> - -<p>Barbro bent over. "Brion," she said. "You are not badly hurt?" She -looked worried.</p> - -<p>I smiled at her and reached for her hand. "I'll bet you think I'm -accident prone; but actually I sometimes go for days at a time without -so much as a bad fall."</p> - -<p>She took my hand in both of hers as she knelt down. "You must be -suffering great pain, Brion, to talk so foolishly," she said. "I -thought he would lose his head and kill you." She turned to the doctor. -"Help him, Dr. Blum."</p> - -<p>"You are fortunate, Colonel," the doctor said, sticking a finger into -the furrow on my side. "The rib is not fractured. In a few days you -will have only a little scar and a big bruise to remind you."</p> - -<p>I squeezed Barbro's hand. "Help me up, Barbro," I said.</p> - -<p>Goering gave me his shoulder to lean on. "For you now, a long nap," he -said. I was ready for it.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph1">Chapter 7</p> - - -<p>I tried to relax in my chair in the cramped shuttle. Just in front of -me the operator sat tensed over a tiny illuminated board, peering at -instrument faces and tapping the keys of what looked like a miniature -calculating machine. A soundless hum filled the air, penetrating my -bones.</p> - -<p>I twisted, seeking a more comfortable position. My half-healed neck -and side were stiffening up again. Bits and fragments of the last ten -days' incessant briefing ran through my mind. Imperial Intelligence -hadn't been able to gather as much material as they wanted on Marshal -of the State Bayard, but it was more than I was able to assimilate -consciously. I hoped the hypnotic sessions I had had every night for a -week in place of real sleep had taken at a level where the data would -pop up when I needed it.</p> - -<p>Bayard was a man of mystery, even to his own people. He was rarely -seen, except via what the puzzled Intelligence men said seemed to be a -sort of electric picture apparatus. I had tried to explain that TV was -commonplace in my world, but they never really understood it.</p> - -<p>They had given me a good night's sleep the last three nights, and a -tough hour of cleverly planned calisthenics every day. My wounds had -healed well, so that now I was physically ready for the adventure; -mentally, however, I was fagged. The result was an eagerness to get on -with the thing and find out the worst of what I was faced with. I had -enough of words; now I wanted the relief of action.</p> - -<p>I checked over my equipment. I wore a military tunic duplicating -that shown in the official portrait of Bayard. Since there was no -information on what he wore below the chest, I had suggested olive drab -trousers, matching what I recognized as the French regulation jacket.</p> - -<p>At my advice, we'd skipped the ribbons and orders shown in the photo; -I didn't think he would wear them around his private apartment in an -informal situation. For the same reason, my collar was unbuttoned and -my tie loosened.</p> - -<p>They had kept me on a diet of lean beefsteak, to try to thin my face -a bit. A hair specialist had given me vigorous scalp massages every -morning and evening, and insisted that I not wash my head. This -was intended to stimulate rapid growth and achieve the unclipped -continental look of the dictator's picture.</p> - -<p>Snapped to my belt was a small web pouch containing my communication -transmitter. We had decided to let it show rather than seek with -doubtful success to conceal it. The microphone was woven into the heavy -braid on my lapels. I had a thick stack of NPS currency in my wallet.</p> - -<p>I moved my right hand carefully, feeling for the pressure of the -release spring that would throw the palm-sized slug-gun into my hand -with the proper flexing of the wrist.</p> - -<p>The little weapon was a marvel of compact deadliness. In shape it -resembled a water-washed stone, grey and smooth. It could lie unnoticed -on the ground, a feature which might be of great importance to me in an -emergency.</p> - -<p>Inside the gun a hair-sized channel spiralled down into the grip. A -compressed gas, filling the tiny hole, served as both propellant and -projectile. At a pressure on the right spot, unmarked, a minute globule -of the liquefied gas was fired with tremendous velocity. Once free -of the confining walls of the tough alloy barrel, the bead expanded -explosively to a volume of a cubic foot. The result was an almost -soundless blow, capable of shattering one-quarter inch armor, instantly -fatal within a range of ten feet.</p> - -<p>It was the kind of weapon I needed—inconspicuous, quiet, and deadly at -short range. The spring arrangement made it almost a part of the hand, -if the hand were expert.</p> - -<p>I had practiced the motion for hours, while listening to lectures, -eating, even lying in bed. I was very conscientious about that piece -of training; it was my insurance. I tried not to think about my other -insurance, set in the hollowed-out bridge replacing a back tooth.</p> - -<p>Each evening, after the day's hard routine, I had relaxed with new -friends, exploring the Imperial Ballet, theatres, opera and a lively -variety show. With Barbro, I had dined sumptuously at half a dozen -fabulous restaurants and afterwards walked in moonlit gardens, sipped -coffee as the sun rose, and talked. When the day came to leave, I had -more than a casual desire to return. The sooner I got started, the -quicker I would get back.</p> - -<p>The operator turned. "Colonel," he said, "brace yourself, sir. There's -something here I don't understand."</p> - -<p>I tensed, but said nothing. I figured he would tell me more as soon as -he knew more. I moved my hand tentatively against the slug-gun release. -I already had the habit.</p> - -<p>"I've detected a moving body in the Net," he said. "It seems to be -trying to match our course. My spatial fix on it indicates it's very -near."</p> - -<p>The Imperium was decades behind my world in nuclear physics, -television, aerodynamics, etc., but when it came to the instrumentation -of these Maxoni devices, they were fantastic. After all, they had -devoted their best scientific efforts to the task for almost sixty -years.</p> - -<p>Now the operator hovered over his panel controls like a nervous -organist.</p> - -<p>"I get a mass of about fifteen hundred kilos," he said. "That's about -right for a light scout, but it can't be one of ours...."</p> - -<p>There was a tense silence for several minutes.</p> - -<p>"He's pacing us, Colonel," the operator said. "Either they've got -better instrumentation than we thought, or this chap has had a stroke -of blind luck. He was lying in wait."</p> - -<p>Both of us were assuming the stranger could be nothing but a B-I Two -vessel.</p> - -<p>The operator tensed up suddenly, hands frozen. "He's coming in on -us, Colonel," he said. "He's going to ram. We'll blow sky-high if he -crosses our fix."</p> - -<p>My thoughts ran like lightning over my slug-gun—the hollow tooth; I -wondered what would happen when he hit. Somehow, I hadn't expected it -to end here. The impossible tension lasted only a few seconds. The -operator relaxed.</p> - -<p>"Missed," he said. "Apparently his spatial maneuvering isn't as good as -his Net mobility. But he'll be back; he's after blood."</p> - -<p>I had a thought. "Our maximum rate is controlled by the energy of -normal entropy, isn't it?" I asked.</p> - -<p>He nodded.</p> - -<p>"What about going slower," I said. "Maybe he'll over-shoot."</p> - -<p>I could see the sweat start on the back of his neck from here.</p> - -<p>"A bit risky in the Blight, sir," he said, "but we'll have a go at it."</p> - -<p>I knew how hard that was for an operator to say. This young fellow had -had six years of intensive training, and not a day of it has passed -without a warning against any unnecessary control changes in the Blight.</p> - -<p>The sound of the generators changed, the pitch of the whine descending -into the audible range, dropping lower.</p> - -<p>"He's still with us, Colonel," the operator said.</p> - -<p>The pitch fell lower. I didn't know what the critical point would be -reached when we would lose our artificial orientation and rotate into -normal entropy. We sat rigid, waiting. The sound dropped down, almost -baritone now. The operator tapped again and again at a key, glancing at -a dial.</p> - -<p>The drive hum was a harsh droning now; we couldn't expect to go much -further without disaster. But then neither could the enemy.</p> - -<p>"He's right with us, Colonel, only—" Suddenly the operator shouted.</p> - -<p>"We lost him, Colonel! His controls aren't as good as ours in that -line, anyway; he dropped into identity."</p> - -<p>I sank back, as the whine of our MC generator built up again. My palms -were wet. I wondered into which of the hells of the Blight they had -gone. But I had another problem to face in a few minutes. This was not -the time for shaken nerves.</p> - -<p>"Good work, operator," I said at last. "How much longer?"</p> - -<p>"About—good God—ten minutes, sir," he answered. "That little business -took longer than I thought."</p> - -<p>I started a last minute check. My mouth was dry. Everything seemed to -be in place. I pressed the button on my communicator.</p> - -<p>"Hello, Talisman," I said, "here is Wolfhound Red. How do you hear me? -Over."</p> - -<p>"Wolfhound Red, Talisman here, you're coming in right and bright, -over." The tiny voice spoke almost in my ear from the speaker in a -button on my shoulder strap.</p> - -<p>I liked the instant response; I felt a little less lonesome.</p> - -<p>I looked at the trip mechanism for the escape door. I was to wait for -the operator to say, "Crash out," and hit the lever. I had exactly two -seconds then to pull my arm back and kick the slug-gun into my palm -before the seat would automatically dump me, standing, out the exit. -The shuttle would be gone before my feet hit the floor.</p> - -<p>I had been so wrapped up in the business at hand for the past ten days -that I had not really thought about the moment of my arrival in the -B-I Two world. The smoothly professional handling of my hasty training -had given the job an air of practicality and realism. Now, about to be -propelled into the innermost midst of the enemy, I began to realize the -suicidal aspects of the mission. But it was too late now for second -thoughts—and in a way I was glad. I was involved now in this world of -the Imperium; it was a part of my life worth risking something for.</p> - -<p>I was a card the Imperium held, and it was my turn to be played. I was -valuable property, but that value could only be realized by putting -me into the scene in just this way, and the sooner the better. I had -no assurance that the dictator was in residence at the palace now; -I might find myself hiding in his quarters awaiting his return, for -God knows how long—and maybe lucky at that, to get that far. I hoped -our placement of the suite was correct, based on information gotten -from the captive taken at the ballroom, under deep narco-hypnosis. -Otherwise, I might find myself treading air, 150 feet up.</p> - -<p>There was a slamming of switches, and the operator twisted in his chair.</p> - -<p>"Crash out, Wolfhound," he cried, "and good hunting."</p> - -<p>Reach out and slam the lever; arm at the side, snap the gun into place -in my hand; with a metallic whack and a rush of air the exit popped and -a giant hand palmed me out into dimness. One awful instant of vertigo, -of a step missed in the dark, and then my feet slammed against carpeted -floor. Air whipped about my face, and the echoes of the departing boom -of the shuttle still hung in the corridor.</p> - -<p>I remembered my instructions. I stood still, turning casually to check -behind me. There was no one in sight. The hall was dark except for the -faint light from a ceiling fixture at the next intersection. I had -arrived.</p> - -<p>I slipped the gun back into its latch under my cuff. No point in -standing here; I started off at a leisurely pace toward the light. The -doors lining the hall were identical, unmarked. I paused and tried one. -Locked. So was the next. The third one opened, and I looked cautiously -into a sitting room. I went on. What I wanted was the sleeping room of -the dictator, if possible. If he were in, I knew what to do; if not, -presumably he would return if I waited long enough. Meanwhile, I wanted -very much not to meet anyone.</p> - -<p>There was the sound of an elevator door opening, just around the corner -ahead. I stopped. I eased back to the last door I had checked, opened -it and stepped inside, closing it almost all the way behind me. My -heart was thudding painfully. I didn't feel daring; I felt like a sneak -thief. Faintly, I heard steps coming my way.</p> - -<p>I silently closed the door, taking care not to let the latch click. -I stood behind it for a moment before deciding it would be better to -conceal myself, just in case. I glanced around, moving into the center -of the room. I could barely make out outlines in the gloom. There was a -tall shape against the wall—a wardrobe, I thought. I hurried across to -it, opened the door, and stepped in among hanging clothes.</p> - -<p>I stood for a moment, feeling foolish, then froze as the door to the -hall opened and closed again softly. There were no footsteps, and then -a light went on. My closet door was open just enough to catch a glimpse -of a man's back as he turned away from the lamp. I heard the soft sound -of a chair being pulled out, and then the tiny jingle of keys. There -were faint metallic sounds, a pause, more faint metallic sounds. The -man was apparently trying keys in the lock of a table or desk.</p> - -<p>I stood absolutely rigid. I breathed shallowly, tried not to think -about a sudden itch on my cheek. I could see the shoulder of the coat -hanging to my left. I turned my eyes to it. It was almost identical -with the one I was wearing. The lapels were adorned with heavy braid. -I had a small moment of relief; I had found the right apartment, at -least. But my victim must be the man in the room; and I had never felt -less like killing anyone in my life.</p> - -<p>The little sounds went on. I could hear the man's heavy breathing. All -at once I wondered what he would look like, this double of mine. Would -he really resemble me, or more to the point, did I look enough like him -to take his place?</p> - -<p>I wondered why he took so long finding the right key; then another -thought struck me. Didn't this sound a little more like someone trying -to open someone else's desk? I moved my head a fraction of an inch. The -clothes moved silently, and I edged a little farther. Now I could see -him. He sat hunched in the chair, working impatiently on the lock. He -was short and had thin hair, and resembled me not in the least. It was -not the dictator.</p> - -<p>This was a new factor for me to think over, and in a hurry. The -dictator was obviously not around, or this fellow would not be here -attempting to rifle his desk. And the dictator had people around him -who were not above prying. That fact might be useful to me.</p> - -<p>It took him five minutes to find a key that fit. I stood with muscles -aching from the awkward pose, trying not to think of the lint that -might cause a sneeze. I could hear the shuffling of papers and faint -muttering as the man looked over his finds. At length there was the -sound of the drawer closing, the click of the lock. Now the man was on -his feet, the chair pushed back, and then silence for a few moments. -Steps came toward me. I froze, my wrist twitching, ready to cover him -and fire if necessary the instant he pulled the door open. I wasn't -ready to start my imposture just yet, skulking in a closet.</p> - -<p>I let out a soundless sigh as he passed the opening and disappeared. -More sounds as he ran through the drawers of a bureau or chest.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the hall door opened again, and another set of steps entered -the room. I heard my man freeze. Then he spoke, in guttural French.</p> - -<p>"Oh, it's you, is it, Maurice."</p> - -<p>There was a pause. Maurice's tone was insinuating.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I thought I saw a light in the chief's study. I thought that was -a bit odd, what with him away tonight."</p> - -<p>The first man sauntered back toward the center of the room. "I just -thought I'd have a look to see that everything was OK here."</p> - -<p>Maurice tittered. "Don't try to rob a thief, Georges; I know why you -came here—for the same reason as I."</p> - -<p>"What are you up to?" the first man hissed. "What do you want?"</p> - -<p>"Sit down, Flic. Oh, don't get excited; they all call you that." -Maurice was enjoying himself. I listened carefully for half an hour -while he goaded and cajoled, and pressured the other. The first man, -I learned, was Georges Pinay, the chief of the dictator's security -force. The other man was a civilian military adviser to the Bureau of -Propaganda and Education. Pinay, it seemed, had been less clever than -he thought in planning a <i>coup</i> that was to unseat Bayard. Maurice knew -all about it, and had bided his time; and now he was taking over. Pinay -didn't like it, but he accepted it after Maurice mentioned a few things -nobody was supposed to know about a hidden airplane and a deposit of -gold coins buried a few miles outside the city.</p> - -<p>I listened carefully, without moving, and after a while even the itch -went away. Pinay had been looking for lists of names, he admitted; he -planned to enlist a few more supporters by showing them their names in -the dictator's own hand on the purge schedule. He hadn't planned to -mention that he himself had nominated them for the list.</p> - -<p>I made the mistake of over-confidence; I was just waiting for them to -finish up when a sudden silence fell. I didn't know what I had done -wrong, but I knew at once what was coming. The steps were very quiet -and there was just a moment's pause before the door was flung open. I -hoped my make-up was on straight.</p> - -<p>I stepped out, casting a cool glance at Pinay.</p> - -<p>"Well, Georges," I said, "it's nice to know you keep yourself occupied -when I'm away." I used the same French dialect they had used, and my -wrist was against the little lever.</p> - -<p>"The devil," Maurice burst out. He stared at me with wide eyes. For a -moment I thought I was going to get away with it. Then Pinay lunged at -me. I whirled, side-stepped; and the slug-gun slapped my palm.</p> - -<p>"Hold it," I barked.</p> - -<p>Pinay ignored the order and charged again. I squeezed the tiny weapon, -bracing myself against the recoil. There was a solid thump and Pinay -bounced aside, landed on his back, loose-limbed, and lay still. Then -Maurice hit me from the side. I stumbled across the room, tripped and -fell, and he was on top of me. I still had my gun, and tried to bring -it into play, but I was dazed, and Maurice was fast and strong as a -bull. He flipped me and held me in a one-handed judo hold that pinned -both arms behind me. He was astride me, breathing heavily.</p> - -<p>"Who are you?" he hissed.</p> - -<p>"I thought you'd know me, Maurice," I said. With infinite care I -groped, tucked the slug-gun into my cuff. I heard it click home and I -relaxed.</p> - -<p>"So you thought that, eh?" Maurice laughed. His face was pink and -moist. He pulled a heavy blackjack from his pocket as he slid off me.</p> - -<p>"Get up," he said. He looked me over.</p> - -<p>"My God," he said. "Fantastic. Who sent you?"</p> - -<p>I didn't answer. It seemed I wasn't fooling him for a minute. I -wondered what was so wrong. Still, he seemed to find my appearance -interesting. He stepped forward and slammed the sap against my neck, -with a controlled motion. He could have broken my neck with it, -but what he did was more painful. I felt the blood start from my -half-healed neck wound. He saw it, and looked puzzled for a moment. -Then his face cleared.</p> - -<p>"Excuse me," he said, grinning. "I'll try for a fresh spot next time. -And answer when spoken to." There was a viciousness in his voice that -reminded me of the attack at the palace. These men had seen hell on -earth and they were no longer fully human.</p> - -<p>He looked at me appraisingly, slapping his palm with the blackjack. "I -think we'll have a little talk downstairs," he said. "Keep the hands in -sight." His eyes darted about, apparently looking for my gun. He was -very sure of himself; he didn't let it worry him when he didn't see it. -He didn't want to take his eyes off me long enough to really make a -search.</p> - -<p>"Stay close, Baby," he said. "Just like that, come along now, nice and -easy."</p> - -<p>I kept my hands away from my sides, and followed him over to the phone. -He wasn't as good as he thought; I could have taken him any time. I had -a hunch, though, that it might be better to string along a little, to -find out something more.</p> - -<p>Maurice picked up the phone, spoke softly into it and dropped it back -in the cradle. His eyes stayed on me.</p> - -<p>"How long before they get here?" I asked.</p> - -<p>Maurice narrowed his eyes, not answering.</p> - -<p>"Maybe we have just time enough to make a deal," I said.</p> - -<p>His mouth curved in what might have been a smile. "We'll make a deal -all right, Baby," he said. "You sing loud and clear, and maybe I'll -tell the boys to make it a fast finish."</p> - -<p>"You've got an ace up your sleeve here, Maurice," I urged. "Don't let -that rabble in on it."</p> - -<p>He slapped his palm again. "What have you got in mind, Baby?"</p> - -<p>"I'm on my own," I said. I was thinking fast. "I'll bet you never knew -Brion had a twin brother. He cut me out, though, so I thought I'd cut -myself in."</p> - -<p>Maurice was interested. "The devil," he said. "You haven't seen your -loving twin in a long time, I see." He grinned. I wondered what the -joke was.</p> - -<p>"Let's get out of here," I said. "Let's keep it between us two."</p> - -<p>Maurice glanced at Pinay.</p> - -<p>"Forget him," I said. "He's dead."</p> - -<p>"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Baby?" Maurice said. "Just the two -of us, and maybe then a chance to narrow it back down to one." His -sardonic expression turned suddenly to a snarl, with nostrils flaring. -"By God," he said, "you, you'd plan to kill me, you little man of -straw—" He was leaning toward me now, arm loosening for a swing. I -realized he was insane, ready to kill in an instantaneous fury.</p> - -<p>"You'll see who is the killer between us," he said. His eyes gleamed as -he swung the blackjack loosely in his hand.</p> - -<p>I couldn't wait any longer. The gun popped into my hand, aimed at -Maurice. I felt myself beginning to respond to his murder lust. I hated -everything he stood for.</p> - -<p>"You're stupid, Maurice," I said. "Stupid and slow, and in just a -minute, dead. But first you're going to tell me how you knew I wasn't -Bayard."</p> - -<p>It was a nice try, but wasted.</p> - -<p>Maurice leaped and the slug-gun slapped him aside. He hit and lay limp. -My arm ached from the recoil. Handling the tiny weapon was tricky. It -was good for about fifty shots on a charge; at this rate it wouldn't -last a day.</p> - -<p>I had to get out fast now. I reached up and smashed the ceiling light, -then the table lamp. That might slow them up for a few moments. I eased -out into the hall and started for the dark end. Behind me I heard -the elevator opening. They were here already. I pushed at the glass -door, and it swung open quietly. I didn't wait around to see what -their reaction would be when they found Maurice and Georges. I went -down the stairs two at a time, as softly as I could. I thought of my -communicator and decided against it. I didn't have anything good to -report.</p> - -<p>I passed three landings before I emerged into a hall. This would be the -old roof level. I tried to remember where the stair had come out in the -analogous spot back at Zero Zero. I spotted a small door in an alcove; -it seemed to be in about the right place.</p> - -<p>A man came out of a room across the hall and glanced toward me. I -rubbed my mouth thoughtfully, while heading for the little door. The -resemblance was more of a hindrance than a help now. He went on, and I -tried the door. It was locked, but it didn't look very strong. I put -my hip against it and pushed. It gave way with no more than a mild -splintering sound. The stairs were there, and I headed down.</p> - -<p>I had no plan other than to get in the clear. It was obvious that the -impersonation was a complete flop. All I could do was to get to a safe -place and ask for further instructions. I had gone down two flights -when I heard the alarm bell start.</p> - -<p>I stopped dead. I had to get rid of the fancy uniform. I pulled off the -jacket, then settled for tearing the braid off the wrists, and removing -the shoulder tabs. I couldn't ditch the lapel braid; my microphone was -woven into it. I couldn't do much else about my appearance.</p> - -<p>This unused stair was probably as good a way out as any. I kept going. -I checked the door at each floor. They were all locked. That was a -good sign, I thought. The stair ended in a cul-de-sac filled with -barrels and mildewed paper cartons. I went back up to the next landing -and listened. Beyond the door there were loud voices and the clatter -of feet. I remembered that the entry to the stair was near the main -entrance to the old mansion. It looked like I was trapped.</p> - -<p>I went down again, pulled one of the barrels aside. I peered behind it -at the wall. The edge of a door frame was visible. I maneuvered another -barrel out of place and found the knob. It was frozen. I wondered how -much noise I could make without being heard. Not much, I decided.</p> - -<p>I needed something to pry with. The paper cartons looked like a -possibility; I tore the flaps loose on one and looked in. It was filled -with musty ledger books; no help.</p> - -<p>The next was better. Old silverware, pots and pans. I dug out a heavy -cleaver and slipped it into the crack. The thing was as solid as a bank -vault. I tried again; it couldn't be that strong, but it didn't budge.</p> - -<p>I stepped back. Maybe the only thing to do was forget caution and -chop through the middle. I leaned over to pick the best spot to swing -at—then jumped back flat against the wall, slug-gun in my hand. The -door knob was turning.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph1">Chapter 8</p> - - -<p>I was close to panic; being cornered had that effect on me. I didn't -know what to do. I had plenty of instructions on how to handle the job -of taking over after I had succeeded in killing the dictator, but none -to cover retreat after failure.</p> - -<p>There was a creak, and dust sifted down from the top of the door. I -stood as far back as I could get, waiting. I had an impulse to start -shooting, but restrained it. Wait and see.</p> - -<p>The door edged open a crack. I really didn't like this; I was being -looked over, and could see nothing myself. At least I had the -appearance of being unarmed; the tiny gun was concealed in my hand. Or -was that an advantage? I couldn't decide.</p> - -<p>I didn't like suspense. "All right," I said. "You're making a draft. In -or out." I spoke in the gutter Parisian I had heard upstairs.</p> - -<p>The door opened farther, and a grimy-faced fellow was visible beyond -it. He blinked in the dim light, peered up the stairs. He gestured.</p> - -<p>"This way, come on," he said in a hoarse whisper. I didn't see -any reason to refuse under the circumstances. I stepped past the -barrels and ducked through the low doorway. As the man closed the -door, I slipped the gun back into its clip. I was standing in a damp -stone-lined tunnel, lit by an electric lantern sitting on the floor. I -stood with my back to it. I didn't want him to see my face yet, not in -a good light.</p> - -<p>"Who are you?" I asked.</p> - -<p>The fellow pushed past me and picked up his lantern. He hardly glanced -at me.</p> - -<p>"I'm just a dumb guy," he said. "I don't ask no questions, I don't -answer none. Come on."</p> - -<p>I couldn't afford to argue the point so I followed him. We made our way -along the hand-hewn corridor, then down a twisting flight of steps, to -emerge into a dark windowless chamber. Two men and a dark-haired girl -sat around a battered table where a candle spluttered.</p> - -<p>"Call them in, Miche," my guide said. "Here's the pigeon."</p> - -<p>Miche lolled back in his chair and motioned me toward him. He picked up -what looked like a letter-knife from the table and probed between two -back teeth while he squinted at me. I made a point not to get too close.</p> - -<p>"One of the kennel dogs, by the uniform," he said. "What's the matter, -you bit the hand that fed you?" He laughed humorously.</p> - -<p>I said nothing. I thought I'd give him a chance to tell me something -first if he felt like it.</p> - -<p>"A ranker, too, by the braid," he said. "Well, they'll wonder where you -got to." His tone changed. "Let's have the story," he said. "Why are -you on the run?"</p> - -<p>"Don't let the suit bother you," I said. "I borrowed it. But it seemed -like the people up there disliked me on sight."</p> - -<p>"Come on over here," the other man said. "Into the light."</p> - -<p>I couldn't put it off forever. I moved forward, right up to the table. -Just to be sure they got the idea, I picked up the candle and held it -by my face.</p> - -<p>Miche froze, knife point in his teeth. The girl started violently and -crossed herself. The other man stared, fascinated. I'd gone over pretty -big. I put the candle back on the table and sat down casually in the -empty chair.</p> - -<p>"Maybe you can tell me," I said, "why they didn't buy it."</p> - -<p>The second man spoke. "You just walked in like that, sprung it on them?"</p> - -<p>I nodded.</p> - -<p>He and Miche looked at each other.</p> - -<p>"You got a very valuable property here, my friend," the man said. "But -you need a little help. Chica, bring wine for our new friend here."</p> - -<p>The girl, still wide-eyed, scuttled to a dingy cupboard and fumbled for -a bottle, looking at me over her shoulder.</p> - -<p>"Look at him sitting there, Gros," Miche said. "Now that's something."</p> - -<p>"You're right that's something," Gros said. "If it isn't already loused -up." He leaned across the table. "Now just what happened upstairs?" he -said. "How long have you been in the palace? How many have seen you?"</p> - -<p>I gave them a brief outline, leaving out my mode of arrival. They -seemed satisfied.</p> - -<p>"Only two seen his face, Gros," Miche said, "and they're out of the -picture." He turned to me. "That was a nice bit of work, mister, -knocking off Souvet; and nobody ain't going to miss Pinay neither. By -the way, where's the gun? Better let me have it." He held out his hand.</p> - -<p>"I had to leave it," I said. "Tripped and dropped it in the dark."</p> - -<p>Miche grunted.</p> - -<p>"The Boss will be interested in this," Gros said. "He'll want to see -him."</p> - -<p>Someone else panted up the stairs into the room. "Say, Chief," he -began, "we make it trouble in the tower—" He stopped dead as he caught -sight of me, and dropped into a crouch, utter astonishment on his face. -His hand clawed for a gun at his hip, found none, as his eyes darted -from face to face.</p> - -<p>"What—what—"</p> - -<p>Gros and Miche burst into raucous laughter, slapping the table and -howling. "At ease, Spider," Miche managed. "Bayard's throwed in with -us." At this even Chica snickered.</p> - -<p>Spider still crouched. "OK, what's the deal?" he gasped. "I don't get -it." He glared around the room, face white. He was scared stiff. Miche -wiped his face, whooped a last time, hawked and spat on the floor.</p> - -<p>"OK, Spider, as you were," he said. "This here's a ringer. Now you -better go bring in the boys. Beat it."</p> - -<p>Spider scuttled away. I was puzzled. Why did some of them take one -startled look and relax, while this fellow was apparently completely -taken in? I had to find out. There was something I was doing wrong.</p> - -<p>"Do you mind telling me," I said, "what's wrong with the get-up?" Miche -and Gros exchanged glances again.</p> - -<p>"Well, my friend," Gros said, "it's nothing we can't take care of. Just -take it easy, and we'll set you right. You wanted to step in and take -out the Old Man, and sit in for him, right? Well, with the Organization -behind you you're as good as in."</p> - -<p>"What's the Organization?" I asked.</p> - -<p>Miche broke in. "For now we'll ask the questions," he said. "What's -your name? What's your play here?"</p> - -<p>I looked from Miche to Gros. I wondered which one was the boss. "My -name's Bayard," I said.</p> - -<p>Miche narrowed his eyes as he rose and walked around the table. He was -a big fellow with small eyes.</p> - -<p>"I asked you what's your name, mister?" he said. "I don't usually ask -twice."</p> - -<p>"Hold it, Miche," Gros said. "He's right. He's got to stay in this -part, if he's going to be good; and he better be plenty good. Let's -leave it at that; he's Bayard."</p> - -<p>Miche looked at me. "Yeah," he said, "you got a point." I had a feeling -Miche and I weren't going to get along.</p> - -<p>"Who's backing you, uh, Bayard?" Gros said.</p> - -<p>"I play a lone hand," I said. "Up to now, anyway. But it seems I missed -something. If your Organization can get me in, I'll go along."</p> - -<p>"We'll get you in, all right," Miche said.</p> - -<p>I didn't like the looks of this pair of hoodlums, but I could -hardly expect high-toned company here. As far as I could guess, the -Organization was an underground anti-Bayard party. The room seemed -to be hollowed out of the walls of the palace. Apparently they ran a -spying operation all through the building, using hidden passages.</p> - -<p>More men entered the room now, some via the stair, others through a -door in the far corner. Apparently the word had gone out. They gathered -around, staring curiously, commenting to each other, but not surprised.</p> - -<p>"These are the boys," Gros said, looking around at them. "The rats in -the walls."</p> - -<p>I looked them over, about a dozen piratical-looking toughs; Gros had -described them well. I looked back at him. "All right," I said. "Where -do we start?" These weren't the kind of companions I would have chosen, -but if they could fill in the gaps in my disguise for me, and help me -take over in Bayard's place, I could only be grateful for my good luck.</p> - -<p>"Not so fast," Miche said. "This thing is going to take time. We got to -get you to a layout we got out of town. We got a lot of work ahead of -us."</p> - -<p>"I'm here now," I said. "Why not go ahead today? Why leave here?"</p> - -<p>"We got a little work to do on your disguise," Gros said, "and there's -plans to make. How do we get the most out of this break and how do we -make sure there's no wires on this?"</p> - -<p>"And no double-cross," Miche added.</p> - -<p>A hairy lout listening in the crowd spoke up.</p> - -<p>"I don't like the looks of this stool, Miche. I don't like funny stuff. -I say under the floor with him." He wore a worn commando knife in a -sheath fixed horizontally to his belt buckle. I was pretty sure he was -eager to use it.</p> - -<p>Miche looked at me. "Not for now, Gaston," he said.</p> - -<p>Gros rubbed his chin. "Don't get worried about Mr. Bayard, boys," he -said. "We'll have our eyes on him." He glanced up at Gaston. "You might -make a special effort along those lines, Gaston; but don't get ahead of -yourself. Let's say if he has any kind of accident, you'll have a worse -one."</p> - -<p>The feel of the spring under my wrist was comforting. I felt that -Gaston wasn't the only one in this crew who didn't like strangers.</p> - -<p>"I figure time is important," I said. "Let's get moving."</p> - -<p>Miche stepped over to me. He prodded my leg with his boot. "You got a -flappy mouth, mister," he said. "Gros and me gives the orders around -here."</p> - -<p>"OK," Gros said. "Our friend has got a lot to learn, but he's right -about the time. Bayard's due back here sometime tomorrow, so that means -we get out today, if we don't want the Ducals all over the place on top -of the regulars. Miche, get the boys moving. I want things folded fast -and quiet, and good men on the stand-by crew."</p> - -<p>He turned to me as Miche bawled orders to the men.</p> - -<p>"Maybe you better have a little food now," he said. "It's going to be a -long day."</p> - -<p>I was startled. I had been thinking of it as night. I looked at my -watch. It had been one hour and ten minutes since I had entered the -palace. Doesn't time go fast, I thought to myself, when everyone's -having fun.</p> - -<p>Chica brought over a loaf of bread and a wedge of brown cheese from the -cupboard, and placed them on the table with a knife. I was cautious.</p> - -<p>"OK if I pick up the knife?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Sure," Gros said. "Go ahead." He reached under the table and laid a -short-nosed revolver before him.</p> - -<p>Miche came back to the table as I chewed on a slice of tough bread. It -was good bread. I tried the wine. It wasn't bad. The cheese was good, -too.</p> - -<p>"You eat well," I said. "This is good."</p> - -<p>Chica threw me a grateful smile. "We do all right," Gros said.</p> - -<p>"Better get Mouth here out of that fancy suit," Miche said, jerking his -head at me. "Somebody might just take a shot at that without thinking. -The boys have got kind of nervous about them kind of suits."</p> - -<p>Gros looked at me. "That's right," he said. "Miche will give you some -other clothes. That uniform don't go over so big here."</p> - -<p>I didn't like this development at all. My communicator was built into -the scrambled eggs on my lapels. I had to say no and make it stick.</p> - -<p>"Sorry," I said. "I keep the outfit. It's part of the act. I'll put a -coat over it if necessary."</p> - -<p>Miche put his foot against my chair and shoved; I saw it coming and -managed to scramble to my feet instead of going over with the chair. -Miche faced me.</p> - -<p>"Strip, mister," he said. "You heard the man."</p> - -<p>The men still in the room fell silent, watching. I looked at Miche. I -hoped Gros would speak up. I couldn't see anything to be gained by this.</p> - -<p>Nobody spoke. I glanced over at Gros. He was just looking at us.</p> - -<p>Miche reached behind, brought out a knife. The blade snicked out. "Or -do I have to cut it off you," he growled.</p> - -<p>"Put the knife away, Miche," Gros said mildly. "You don't want to cut -up our secret weapon here; and we want the uniform off all in one -piece."</p> - -<p>"Yeah," Miche said. "You got a point." He dropped the knife on the -table and moved in on me. From his practiced crouch and easy shuffling -step, I saw that he had been a professional.</p> - -<p>I decided not to wait for him. I threw myself forward with my weight -behind a straight left to the jaw. It caught Miche by surprise, slammed -against his chin and rocked him back. I tried to follow up, catch him -again while he was still off balance, but he was a veteran of too many -fights. He covered up, back-pedalled, shook his head, and then flicked -out with a right that exploded against my temple. I was almost out, -staggering. He hit me again, square on the nose. Blood flowed.</p> - -<p>I wouldn't last long against this bruiser. The crowd was still bunched -at the far end of the room, moving this way, now, watching delightedly, -calling encouragement to Miche. Gros still sat, and Chica stared from -her place by the wall.</p> - -<p>I moved back, dazed, dodging blows. I had only one chance and I needed -a dark corner to try it. Miche was right after me. He was mad; he -didn't like that smack on the jaw in front of the boys. That helped me. -He forgot boxing and threw one haymaker after another. He wanted to -floor me with one punch to retrieve his dignity. I dodged and retreated.</p> - -<p>I moved back toward the deep shadows at the end of the room, beyond -Chica's pantry. I had to get there quickly, before the watching crowd -closed up the space.</p> - -<p>Miche swung again, left, right. I heard the air whistle as his hamlike -fist grazed me. I backed another step; almost far enough. Now to get -between him and the rest of the room. I jumped in behind a wild swing, -popped a stinging right off his ear, and kept going. I whirled, snapped -the slug-gun into my hand, and as Miche lunged, I shot him in the -stomach, faked a wild swinging attack as he bounced off the wall and -fell full length at my feet. I slipped the gun back into my cuff and -turned.</p> - -<p>"I can't see," a man shouted. "Get some light down here." The mob -pushed forward, forming a wide ring. They stopped as they saw that only -I was on my feet.</p> - -<p>"Miche is down," a man called. "The new guy took him."</p> - -<p>Gros pushed his way through, hesitated, then walked over to the -sprawled body of Miche. He squatted, beckoned to the man with the -candle.</p> - -<p>He pulled Miche over on his back, then looked closer, feeling for the -heartbeat. He looked up abruptly, got to his feet.</p> - -<p>"He dead," he said. "Miche is dead." He looked at me with a strange -expression. "It's quite a punch you got, mister," he said.</p> - -<p>"I tried not to use it," I said. "But I'll use it again if I have to."</p> - -<p>"Search him, boys," Gros said. They prodded and slapped, everywhere but -my wrist. "He's clean, Gros," a man said. Gros looked the body over -carefully, searching for signs of a wound. Men crowded around him.</p> - -<p>"No marks," he said at last. "Broken ribs, and it feels like something -funny inside; all messed up." He looked at me. "He did it barehanded."</p> - -<p>I hoped they would go on believing that. It was my best insurance -against a repetition. I wanted them scared of me, and the ethics of it -didn't bother me at all.</p> - -<p>"All right," Gros called to the men. "Back on the job. Miche asked for -it. He called our new man 'Mouth.' I'm naming him 'Hammer-hand'."</p> - -<p>I thought this was as good a time as any to push a little farther.</p> - -<p>"You'd better tell them I'm taking over Miche's spot here, Gros," I -said. "We'll work together, fifty-fifty."</p> - -<p>Gros squinted at me. "Yeah, that figures," he said. I had a feeling he -had mental reservations.</p> - -<p>"And by the way," I added, "I keep the uniform."</p> - -<p>"Yeah," Gros said. "He keeps the uniform." He turned back to the men. -"We pull out of here in thirty minutes. Get moving."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>There was a ragged streak of light showing at the end of the dark -tunnel. Gros signalled a halt. The men bunched up, filling the cramped -passage.</p> - -<p>"Most of you never came this way before," he said. "So listen. We push -out of here into the Street of the Olive Trees; it's a little side -street under the palace wall. There's a dummy stall in front; ignore -the old dame in it.</p> - -<p>"Ease out one at a time, and move off east; that's to the right. You -all got good papers. If the guy on the gate asks for them, show them. -Don't get eager and volunteer. If there's any excitement behind, just -keep going. We rendezvous at the Thieves' Market. OK—and duck the -hardware."</p> - -<p>He motioned the first man out, blinking in the glare as the ragged -tarpaulin was pushed aside. After half a minute, the second followed. I -moved close to Gros.</p> - -<p>"Why bring this whole mob along?" I asked in a low voice. "Wouldn't it -be a lot easier for just a few of us?"</p> - -<p>Gros shook his head. "I want to keep my eye on these slobs," he said. -"I don't know what ideas they might get if I left them alone a few -days; and I can't afford to have this set-up poisoned. And I'm going to -need them out at the country place. There's nothing they can do here -while I'm not around to tell them."</p> - -<p>It sounded fishy to me, but I let it drop. All the men passed by us and -disappeared. There was no alarm.</p> - -<p>"OK," Gros said. "Stay with me." He slipped under the mouldy hanging -and I followed as he stepped past a broken-down table laden with -pottery. An old crone huddled on a stool ignored us. Gros glanced -out into the narrow dusty street, then pushed off into the crowd. We -threaded our way through loud-talking, gesticulating customers, petty -merchants crouched over fly-covered displays of food or dog-eared -magazines, tottering beggars, grimy urchins. The dirt street was -littered with refuse; starving dogs wandered listlessly through the -crowd. No one paid the least attention to us. It appeared we'd get -through without trouble.</p> - -<p>Under a heavy cloak Gros had given me, I was sweating. Flies buzzed -about my swollen face. A whining beggar thrust a gaunt hand at me. Gros -ducked between two fat men engaged in an argument. As they moved, I had -to side-step and push past them. Gros was almost out of sight in the -mob.</p> - -<p>I saw a uniform suddenly, a hard-faced fellow in yellowish khaki -pushing roughly through the press ahead. A chicken fluttered up, -squawking in my face. There was a shout; people began milling, -thrusting against me. I caught a glimpse of Gros, face turned toward -the soldier, eyes wide in a pale face. He started to run. In two jumps -the uniformed man had him by the shoulder, spun him around, shouting. -A dog yelped, banged against my legs, scuttled away. The soldier's arm -rose and fell, clubbing at Gros with a heavy riot stick.</p> - -<p>Far ahead I heard a shot, and almost instantly another, close. Gros -was free and running, blood on his head, as the soldier fell among the -crowd. I darted along the wall, trying to overtake Gros, or at least -keep him in sight. The crowd was opening, making way as he ran, pistol -in hand. He fired again, the shot a faint pop in the mob noise.</p> - -<p>Another uniform jumped in front of me, club raised; I shied, threw up -an arm, as the man jumped back, saluted.</p> - -<p>I caught the words, "Pardon, sir," as I went past him at a run. He must -have caught a glimpse of the uniform I wore.</p> - -<p>Ahead, Gros fell in the dust, scrambled to his knees, head down. A -soldier stepped out of an alley, aimed, and shot him through the head. -Gros lurched, collapsed, rolled on his back. The dust caked in the -blood on his face. The crowd closed in. From the moment they spotted -him, he didn't have a chance.</p> - -<p>I stopped. I was trying to remember what Gros had told the men. I had -made the bad mistake of assuming too much, thinking I would have Gros -to lead me out of this. There was something about a gate; everyone had -papers, Gros said. All but me. That was why they had had to come out in -daylight, I realized suddenly. The gate probably closed at sundown.</p> - -<p>I moved on, not wanting to attract attention by standing still. I tried -to keep the cloak around me to conceal the uniform. I didn't want any -more soldiers noticing it; the next one might not be in such a hurry.</p> - -<p>Gros had told the men to rendezvous at the Thieves' Market. I tried -to remember Algiers from a three-day visit years before; all I could -recall was the Casbah and the well-lit streets of the European shopping -section.</p> - -<p>I passed the spot where a jostling throng craned to see the body of -the soldier, kept going. Another ring surrounded the spot where Gros -lay dead. Now there were soldiers everywhere, swinging their sticks -carelessly, breaking up the mob. I shuffled, head down, dodged a -backhanded swipe, found myself in the open. The street sloped up, -curving to the left. There were still a few cobbles on this part, fewer -shops and stalls. Wash hung from railings around tiny balconies above -the street.</p> - -<p>I saw the gate ahead. A press of people packed against it, while a -soldier examined papers. Three more uniformed men stood by, looking -toward the scene of the excitement.</p> - -<p>I went on toward the gate. I couldn't turn back now. There was a new -wooden watch tower scabbed onto the side of the ancient brick wall -where the sewer drained under it. A carbon arc searchlight and a man -with a burp gun slung over his shoulder were on top of it. I thought I -saw one of the Organization men ahead in the crowd at the gate.</p> - -<p>One of the soldiers was staring at me. He straightened, glanced at the -man next to him. The other soldier was looking, too, now. I decided a -bold front was the only chance. I beckoned to one of the men, allowing -the cloak to uncover the front of the uniform briefly. He moved toward -me, still in doubt. I hoped my battered face didn't look familiar.</p> - -<p>"Snap it up, soldier," I said in my best <i>Ecole Militaire</i> tone; he -halted before me, saluted. I didn't give him a chance to take the -initiative.</p> - -<p>"The best part of the catch made it through the gate before you fools -closed the net," I snapped. "Get me through there fast, and don't call -any more attention to me. I'm not wearing this flea-circus for fun." I -flipped the cloak.</p> - -<p>He turned and pushed through to the gate, and said a word to the other -soldier, gestured toward me. The other man, wearing sergeant's stripes, -looked at me.</p> - -<p>I glared at him as I approached. "Ignore me," I hissed. "You foul this -up and I'll see you shot."</p> - -<p>I brushed past him, thrust through the gate as the first soldier opened -it. I walked on, listening for a sound of a round snapping into the -chamber of that burp gun on the tower. A goat darted out of an alley, -stared at me. Sweat rolled down my cheek. There was a tree ahead, with -a black shadow under it. I wondered if I'd ever get that far.</p> - -<p>I made it, and breathed a little easier.</p> - -<p>I still had problems, plenty of them. Right now I had to find the -Thieves' Market. I had a vague memory of such a thing from the past, -but I had no idea where it was. I moved along the road, past a -weathered stuccoed building with a slatternly taverns downstairs and -sagging rooms above, bombed out at the far end. The gate was out of -sight now.</p> - -<p>Ahead were more bomb-scarred tenements, ruins, and beyond open fields. -There was a river in sight to the right. A few people were in view, -moving listlessly in the morning heat. They seemed to ignore the hubbub -within the walled town. I couldn't risk asking any of them for the -place I sought; I didn't know who might be a police informer, or a cop, -for that matter. They had been ready for us, I realized.</p> - -<p>Gros wasn't as well-hidden as he had thought. Probably the police could -have cleared his outfit from the palace at any time; I suspected they -had tolerated them against such a time as now. The ambush had been -neat. I wondered if any of the boys had made it through the gate.</p> - -<p>Apparently word had not gone out to be on the alert for a man -impersonating an officer; I didn't know how much Maurice had said when -he telephoned for his men, but my bluff at the gate indicated no one -had been warned of my disguise.</p> - -<p>I paused. Maybe my best bet would be to try the tavern, order a drink, -try to pick up something. I saw nothing ahead that looked encouraging.</p> - -<p>I walked back fifty feet to the doorless entrance to the bistro. There -was no one in sight. I walked in, barely able to make out the positions -of the tables and chairs in the gloom. The glassless windows were -shuttered. I blinked, made out the shape of the bar. Outside the door, -the dusty road glared white.</p> - -<p>A hoarse-breathing fellow loomed up behind the bar. He didn't say -anything.</p> - -<p>"Red wine," I said.</p> - -<p>He put a water glass on the bar and filled it from a tin dipper. I -tasted it. It was horrible. I had a feeling good manners would be out -of place here, so I turned and spat it on the floor.</p> - -<p>I pushed the glass across the bar. "I want wine," I said. "Not what you -wring out of the bar rag." I dropped a worn thousand franc note on the -bar.</p> - -<p>He muttered as he turned away, and was still muttering when he shuffled -back with a sealed bottle and a wine glass. He drew the cork, poured my -glass half full, and put the thousand francs in his pocket. He didn't -offer me any change.</p> - -<p>I tried it; it wasn't too bad. I stood sipping, and waited for my -eyes to get used to the dim light. The bartender moved away and began -pulling a pile of boxes, grunting hard.</p> - -<p>I didn't have a clear idea of what to do if I did find the survivors -of the Organization. At best I might find out what was wrong with the -disguise, and use their channels to get back into the palace. I could -always call for help on my communicator, and have myself set back -inside via shuttle, but I didn't like the idea of risking that again. I -had almost been caught arriving last time. The scheme couldn't possibly -work if any suspicion was aroused.</p> - -<p>A man appeared in the doorway, silhouetted against the light. He -stepped in and came over to the bar. The bartender ignored him.</p> - -<p>Two more came through the door, walked past me and leaned on the bar -below me. The bartender continued to shuffle boxes, paying no attention -to his customers. I started to wonder why.</p> - -<p>The man nearer me moved closer. "Hey, you," he said. He jerked his head -toward the gate. "You hear the shooting back there?"</p> - -<p>That was a leading question. I wondered if the sound of the shots had -been audible outside the walls of the fortified town. I grunted.</p> - -<p>"Who they after?" he said.</p> - -<p>I tried to see his face, but it was shadowed. He was a thin broad -fellow, leaning on one elbow. Here we go again, I thought.</p> - -<p>"How would I know?" I said.</p> - -<p>"Kind of warm for that burnoose, ain't it?" he said. He stretched out a -hand as if to touch the tattered cape. I stepped back, and two pairs of -arms wrapped around me in a double bear-hug from behind.</p> - -<p>The man facing me twitched the cape open. He looked at me.</p> - -<p>"Lousy Ducal," he said, and hit me across the mouth with the back of -his hand. I tasted blood.</p> - -<p>"Hold on to them arms," another man said, coming around from behind me. -This was one I hadn't seen. I wondered how many more men were in the -room. The new man took the old military cape in his hands and ripped it -off me.</p> - -<p>"Look at that," he said. "We got us a lousy general." He dug his -finger under the top of the braided lapel of my blouse and yanked. The -lapel tore but stayed put. I started to struggle then; that was my -communicator they were about to loot for the gold wire on it. I didn't -have much hope of getting loose that way, but maybe it would distract -them if I kicked a little. I swung a boot and caught the rangy one -under the kneecap. He yelped and jumped back, then swung at my face. I -twisted away, and the blow grazed my cheek. I threw myself backward, -jerking hard, trying to throw someone off balance.</p> - -<p>"Hold him," a man hissed. They were trying not to make too much noise. -The thin man moved in close, watched his chance and slammed a fist into -my stomach. The pain was agonizing; I cramped up, retching.</p> - -<p>The men holding me dragged me to a wall, flung me upright against it, -arms outspread. The fellow who wanted the braid stepped up with a knife -in his hand. I was trying to breathe, wheezing and twisting. He grabbed -my hair, and for a moment I thought he was going to slit my throat. -Instead, he sawed away at lapels, cursing as the blade scraped wire.</p> - -<p>"Get the buttons, too, Beau Joe," a husky voice suggested.</p> - -<p>The pain was fading a little now, but I sagged, acting weaker than I -actually was. The communicator was gone, at least the sending end. All -I could try to salvage now was my life.</p> - -<p>The buttons took only a moment. The man with the knife stepped back, -slipping it into a sheath at his hip. He favored the leg I had kicked. -I could see his face now. He had straight fine features.</p> - -<p>"OK, let him go," he said. I slumped to the floor. For the first time -my hands were free. Now maybe I had a chance; I still had the gun. I -got shakily to hands and knees, watching him. He aimed a kick at my -ribs.</p> - -<p>"On your feet, General," he said. "I'll teach you to kick your betters."</p> - -<p>The others laughed, called out advice, shuffled around us in a circle. -There was an odor of dust and sour wine.</p> - -<p>"That General's a real fighter, ain't he?" somebody called. "Fights -sittin' down." That went over big. Lots of happy laughter.</p> - -<p>I grabbed the foot as it came to me, twisted it hard, and threw the -man to the floor. He swore loudly, lunged at me, but I was up again, -backing away. The ring opened and somebody pushed me. I let myself -stumble and gained a few more feet toward the shadowed corner. I could -see better now, enough to see pistols and knives in every belt. If they -had any idea I was armed, they'd use them. I had to wait.</p> - -<p>Beau Joe was after me again, throwing a roundhouse left. I ducked it, -then caught a couple of short ones. I stepped back two paces, glanced -at the audience; they were as far away as I'd get them. It was time to -make my play. The man shielded me as the slug-gun popped into my hand, -but at that instant he swung a savage kick. It was just luck; he hadn't -seen the tiny weapon, but the gun spun into a dark corner. Now I wasn't -acting any more.</p> - -<p>I went after him, slammed a hard left to his face, followed with a -right to the stomach, then straightened him out with another left. He -was a lousy boxer.</p> - -<p>The others didn't like it; they closed in and grabbed me. Knuckles -bounced off my jaw as a fist rammed into my back. Two of them ran me -backwards and sent me crashing against the wall. My head rang; I was -stunned. I fell down and they let me lie. I needed the rest.</p> - -<p>To hell with secrecy, I thought. I got to my knees and started -crawling toward the corner. The men laughed and shouted, forgetting -about being quiet now.</p> - -<p>"Crawl, General," one shouted, "Crawl, you lousy spy."</p> - -<p>"Hup, two, soldier," another sallied. "By the numbers, crawl."</p> - -<p>That was a good one; they roared, slapped each other. Beau Joe had -picked himself up and started for me now. Where the hell was that gun?</p> - -<p>He grabbed my jacket, hauled me to my feet as I groped for him. My -head spun; I must have a concussion, I thought. He jabbed at me, but I -leaned on him, and he couldn't get a good swing. The others laughed at -him, now, enjoying the farce.</p> - -<p>"Watch him, Beau Joe," someone called. "He's liable to wake up, with -you shakin' him that way."</p> - -<p>Beau Joe stepped back, and aimed a straight right at my chin, but I -dropped and headed for the corner again; that was where the gun went. -He kicked me again, sent me sprawling into the wall—and my hand fell -on the gun.</p> - -<p>I rolled over, and Beau Joe yanked me up, spun me around, and stepped -back. I stood, slumped in the corner, watching him. He was enjoying -it now. He mouthed words silently, grinning in spite of his bleeding -mouth. He intended to keep me propped there in the corner and beat me -to death. As he came to me, I raised the gun and shot him in the face.</p> - -<p>I wished I hadn't; he did a back-flip, landed head first, but not -before I caught a glimpse of the smashed face. Joe was not beau any -more.</p> - -<p>I held my hand loosely at my side, waiting for the next comer. The same -fellow who had grabbed me before rushed up. He jumped the body and -twisted to deliver a skull-crusher. I raised the gun a few inches as he -leaped and I fired at his belly. The shot made a hollow whop, as the -man's feet left the floor. He smashed into the wall as I side-stepped.</p> - -<p>The other three fanned out. It was too dark to see clearly here, and -they didn't yet realize what had happened. They thought I had downed -the two men with my fists. They were going to jump me together and -finish it off.</p> - -<p>"Freeze, bunnies!" a voice said from the door. We all looked. A hulking -brute stood outlined there, and the gun in his hand was visible.</p> - -<p>"I can see you rats," he said. "I'm used to the dark. Don't try -nothing." He beckoned a man behind him forward. One of the three in -the room edged toward the rear, and the gun coughed, firing through a -silencer. The man slammed sideways, and sprawled.</p> - -<p>"Come on, Hammer-hand," the big man said. "Let's get out of here." He -spat into the room. "These pigeons don't want to play no more."</p> - -<p>I recognized the voice of Gaston, the big fellow who had wanted to bury -me under the floor. Gros had appointed him my bodyguard, but he was -a little late. I had taken a terrible beating. I tucked the gun away -clumsily and lurched forward.</p> - -<p>"Cripes, Hammer-hand," Gaston said, stepping forward to steady me. "I -didn't know them bunnies had got to you; I thought you were stringing -them. I was wondering when you was going to make music with that punch."</p> - -<p>He paused to stare down at Beau Joe.</p> - -<p>"You pushed his mush right in," he said admiringly. "Hey, Touhey, get -Hammer-hand's wrap-around, and let's move." He glanced once more around -the room.</p> - -<p>"So long, bunnies," he said. The two men didn't answer.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph1">Chapter 9</p> - - -<p>I don't remember much about my trip to the Organization's hideout -in the country. I recall walking endlessly, and later being carried -over Gaston's shoulder. I remember terrific heat, and agonizing pain -from my battered face, my half-healed gunshot wounds, and innumerable -bruises. And I remember at last a cool room, and a soft bed.</p> - -<p>I awoke slowly, dreams blending with memories, none of them pleasant. I -lay on my back, propped up on enormous fluffy feather bolsters, with a -late afternoon sun lighting the room through partly-drawn drapes over -a wide dormer window. For a while I struggled to decide where I was. -Gradually I recalled my last conscious thought.</p> - -<p>This was the place in the country Gros had been headed for. Gaston had -taken his charge seriously, in spite of his own suggestion that I be -disposed of and although Miche and Gros were dead.</p> - -<p>I moved tentatively, and caught my breath. That hurt, too. My chest, -ribs and stomach were one great ache. I pushed the quilt down and tried -to examine the damage. Under the edges of a broad tape wrapping, purple -bruises showed all around my right side.</p> - -<p>Bending my neck had been a mistake; now the bullet wound that Maurice -had re-opened with the blackjack began to throb. I was a mess. I didn't -risk moving my face; I knew what it must look like.</p> - -<p>As a secret-service type, I was a complete bust, I thought. My -carefully prepared disguise had fooled no one, except maybe Spider. I -had been subjected to more kicks, blows, and threats of death in the -few hours I had been in the dictator's realm than in all my previous -42 years, and I had accomplished exactly nothing. I had lost my -communicator, and now my slug-gun too; the comforting pressure under -my wrist had gone. It wouldn't have helped me much anyway; I was dizzy -from the little effort I had just expended.</p> - -<p>Maybe I had made some progress, though, in a negative way. I knew that -walking in and striking a pose wasn't good enough to get by as the -Dictator Bayard, in spite of the face. And I had also learned that the -dictator's regime was riddled with subversives and malcontents. Perhaps -we could somehow use the latter to our advantage.</p> - -<p>If, I thought, I can get back with the information. I thought that -over. How would I get back? I had no way of communicating. I was -completely on my own now.</p> - -<p>Always before I had had the knowledge that in the end I could send out -a call for help, and count on rescue within an hour. Richthofen had -arranged for a 24-hour monitoring of my communications band, alert -for my call. Now that was out. If I was to return to the Imperium, I -would have to steal one of the crude shuttles of this world, or better, -commandeer one as dictator. I had to get back into the palace, with a -correct disguise, or end my days in this nightmare world.</p> - -<p>I heard voices approaching outside the room. I closed my eyes as the -door opened. I might learn a little by playing possum, if I could get -away with it.</p> - -<p>The voices were lower now, and I sensed several people coming over to -stand by the bed.</p> - -<p>"How long has he been asleep?" a new voice asked. Or was it new? It -seemed familiar somehow, but I connected it with some other place.</p> - -<p>"Doc gave him some shots," someone answered. "We brought him in this -time yesterday."</p> - -<p>There was a pause. Then the half-familiar voice again. "I don't like -his being alive. However—perhaps we can make use of him."</p> - -<p>"Gros wanted him alive," another voice said. I recognized Gaston. He -sounded sullen. "He had big plans for him."</p> - -<p>The other voice grunted. There was a silence for a few moments.</p> - -<p>"He's no good to us until the face is healed. Keep him here until I -send along further instructions."</p> - -<p>I hadn't liked what I heard, but for the present I had no choice but to -lie here and try to regain my strength. At least, I was comfortably set -up in this huge bed. I drifted off to sleep again.</p> - -<p>I awoke with Gaston sitting by the bed, smoking. He sat up when I -opened my eyes, crushed out his cigarette in an ash tray on the table, -and leaned forward.</p> - -<p>"How are you feeling, Hammer-hand?" he said.</p> - -<p>"Rested," I said. My voice came out in a faint whisper. I was surprised -at its weakness.</p> - -<p>"Yeah, them pigeons give you a pretty rough time, Hammer-hand. I don't -know why you didn't lay the punch on them sooner.</p> - -<p>"I got some chow here for you," Gaston said. He put a tray from the -bedside table on his lap and offered me a spoonful of soup. I was -hungry; I opened my mouth for it. I never expected to have a gorilla -for a nursemaid, I thought.</p> - -<p>Gaston was good at his work, though. For the next three days he fed -me regularly, changed my bedding, and performed all the duties of -a trained nurse with skill, if not with grace. I steadily gained -strength, but I was careful to conceal the extent of my progress from -Gaston and the others who occasionally came in. I didn't know what -might be coming up and I wanted something in reserve.</p> - -<p>Gaston told me a lot about the Organization during the next few days. -I learned that the group led by Gros and Miche was only one of several -such cells; there were hundreds of members, in half a dozen scattered -locations in Algeria, each keeping surveillance over some vital -installation of the regime. Their ultimate objective was the overthrow -of Bayard's rule, enabling them to get a share in the loot.</p> - -<p>Each group had two leaders, all of whom reported to the Big Boss, a -stranger about whom Gaston knew little. He appeared irregularly, and -no one knew his name or where he had his headquarters. I sensed that -Gaston didn't like him.</p> - -<p>On the third day I asked Gaston to help me get up and walk a bit. I -faked extreme weakness, but was pleased to discover that I was feeling -better than I had hoped. After Gaston helped me back into bed and left -the room, I got up again, and practiced walking. It made me dizzy and -nauseous but I leaned on the bed post and waited for my stomach to -settle down, and went on. I stayed on my feet for fifteen minutes, -and slept soundly afterwards. Thereafter, whenever I awoke, day or -night, I rose and walked, jumping back into bed when I heard footsteps -approaching.</p> - -<p>When Gaston insisted on walking me after that, I continued to feign -all the symptoms I had felt the first time. The doctor was called back -once, but he assured me that my reactions were quite normal, and that I -could not expect to show much improvement for another week, considering -the amount of blood I had lost. This suited me perfectly. I needed time -to learn more.</p> - -<p>I tried to pump Gaston about my disguise, subtly; I didn't want to put -him on his guard, or give him any inkling of what I had in mind. But I -was too subtle; Gaston avoided the subject.</p> - -<p>I searched for my clothes, but the closet was locked and I couldn't -risk forcing the door.</p> - -<p>A week after my arrival, I allowed myself enough improvement to permit -a walk through the house, and down into a pleasant garden behind it. -The layout of the house was simple. From the garden I had seen no -signs of guards. It looked as though I could walk out any time, but I -restrained the impulse.</p> - -<p>By the time ten days had passed, I was getting very restless. I -couldn't fake my role of invalid much longer without arousing -suspicion. The inactivity was getting on my nerves; I had spent the -night lying awake, thinking, and getting up occasionally to walk up -and down the room. By dawn, I had succeeded in fatiguing myself, but I -hadn't slept at all.</p> - -<p>I had to be doing something. I got out my canes, and reconnoitred the -house after Gaston had taken away my breakfast tray. From the upstairs -windows I had a wide view of the surrounding country. The front of the -house faced a paved highway, in good repair. I assumed it was a main -route into Algiers. Behind the house, tilled fields stretched a quarter -of a mile to a row of trees. Perhaps there was a river there. There -were no other houses near.</p> - -<p>I thought about leaving. It looked to me as though my best bet would be -to go over the wall after dark and head for the cover of the trees. I -had the impression that the line of trees and the road converged to the -west, so perhaps I could regain the road at a distance from the house, -and follow it into the city. I went back to my room to wait.</p> - -<p>It was almost dinner time when I heard someone approaching my door. I -was lying down, so I stayed where I was and waited. Gaston entered with -the doctor. The doctor was pale, and perspiring heavily. He avoided -my eyes as he drew out a chair, sat down and started his examination. -He said nothing to me, ignoring the questions I asked him. I gave up -and lay silently while he prodded and poked. After a while he rose -suddenly, packed up his kit, and walked out.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter with the doc, Gaston?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"He's got something on his mind," Gaston said. Even Gaston seemed -subdued. Something was up; something that worried me.</p> - -<p>"Come on, Gaston," I said. "What's going on?"</p> - -<p>At first I thought he wasn't going to answer me.</p> - -<p>"They're going to do like you wanted," he said. "They're getting ready -to put you in for Bayard."</p> - -<p>"That's fine," I said. That was what I had come here for. This way was -as good as any. But there was something about it.</p> - -<p>"Why all the secrecy?" I asked. "Why doesn't the Big Boss show himself? -I'd like to talk to him."</p> - -<p>Gaston hesitated. I had the feeling he wanted to say more, but couldn't.</p> - -<p>"They got a few details to fix yet," he said. He didn't look at me. I -let it go at that.</p> - -<p>After Gaston left the room, I went out into the hall. Through the -open back windows I heard the sound of conversation. I moved over to -eavesdrop.</p> - -<p>There were three men, strolling out into the garden with their backs to -me. One was the doctor; I didn't recognize the other two. I wished I -could see their faces.</p> - -<p>"It was not for this I was trained," the doctor was saying. He waved -his hands in an agitated way. "I'm not a butcher, to cut up a side of -mutton for you."</p> - -<p>I couldn't make out the reply.</p> - -<p>I went down to the landing and listened. All was quiet. I descended -to the hall on the ground floor, listened again. Somewhere a clock was -ticking.</p> - -<p>I went into the main dining room; the table was set for three, but -no food was in sight. I tried the other dining room; nothing. I went -across and eased the parlor door open. There was no one there; it -looked as unused as ever.</p> - -<p>I passed the door I had found locked once before and noticed light -under it. I stepped back and tried it. It was probably a broom closet, -I thought as I turned the knob. It opened.</p> - -<p>I stood staring. There was a padded white table in the center of the -room. At one end stood two floodlamps on tall tripods. Glittering -instruments were laid out on a small table. On a stand beside the -operating table lay scalpels, sutures, heavy curved needles. There was -a finely made saw, like a big hacksaw, and heavy snippers. On the floor -beneath the table was a large galvanized steel wash tub.</p> - -<p>I didn't understand this; I turned to the door—and heard footsteps -approaching.</p> - -<p>I looked around, saw a door, jumped to it and jerked it open. When the -two men entered the room, I was standing rigid in the darkness of the -storeroom, with the door open half an inch.</p> - -<p>The floodlights flicked on, then off again. There was a rattle of metal -against metal.</p> - -<p>"Lay off that," a nasal voice said. "This is all set. I checked it over -myself."</p> - -<p>"They're nuts," Nasal-voice said. "Why don't they wait until morning, -when they got plenty sunlight for this? No, they gotta work under the -lights."</p> - -<p>"I don't get this deal," a thin voice said. "I didn't get what was -supposed to be wrong with this guy's legs, they got to take them off. -How come if he's—"</p> - -<p>"You ain't clued in, are you, Mac?" Nasal-voice said harshly. "This is -a big deal; they're going to ring this mug in when they knock off the -Old Man."</p> - -<p>"Yeah, that's what I mean," Thin-voice cut in. "So what's the idea they -take off the legs?"</p> - -<p>"You don't know much, do you, small-timer?" Nasal-voice said. "Well, -listen; I got news for you." There was a pause.</p> - -<p>"Bayard's got no pins, from the knees down." Nasal spoke in a hushed -tone. "You didn't know that, did you? That's why you never seen him -walking around on the video; he's always sitting back of a desk.</p> - -<p>"There ain't very many people know about that," he added. "Keep it to -yourself."</p> - -<p>"Cripes," Thin-voice said. His voice was thinner than ever. "Got no -legs?"</p> - -<p>"That's right. I was with him a year before the landing. I was in his -outfit when he got it. Machine gun slug, through both knees. Now forget -about it. But maybe now you get the set-up."</p> - -<p>"Cripes," Thin-voice said. "Where did they get a guy crazy enough to go -into a deal like this?"</p> - -<p>"How do I know," the other said. He sounded as though he regretted -having told the secret. "These revolutionist types is all nuts anyway."</p> - -<p>I stood there feeling sick. My legs tingled. I knew now why nobody -mistook me for the dictator, as I walked into a room; and why Spider -had been taken in, when he saw me sitting.</p> - -<p>I was leaving now. Not tomorrow, not tonight; now. I had no gun, no -papers, no map, no plans, but I was leaving.</p> - -<p>It was almost dark; I went to the back of the house. Through a window -I could see the men in the garden standing under a small cherry tree -in the gloom, still talking. I found a door, and examined it in the -failing light. It was the type that opens in two sections. The upper -one was locked, but the lower half swung silently open—below the line -of vision of the men outside. I bent over and stepped through.</p> - -<p>A short path led off to the drive beside the house; I ignored it and -crept along beside the wall, through weed-grown flower beds.</p> - -<p>I turned to start out across the plowed field and a dark form rose up -before me. I recoiled, my wrist twitching in a gesture that had become -automatic; but no slug-gun snapped into my hand. I was unarmed, weak, -and shaken, and the man loomed over me, hulking.</p> - -<p>"Let's go, Hammer-hand," he whispered. It was Gaston.</p> - -<p>"I'm leaving, Gaston," I said. "Just don't try to stop me." Vague ideas -of a bluff were in my mind. After all, he called me Hammer-hand.</p> - -<p>He came after me. "Hold it down to a roar," he said. "I wondered when -you was going to make your break. You been getting pretty restless -these last few days."</p> - -<p>"Yeah," I said. "Who wouldn't?" I was just stalling; I had no plan.</p> - -<p>"You got more nerve than me, Hammer-hand," Gaston said. "I would of -took off a week ago. You must of wanted to get a look at the Big Boss -real bad to stick as long as you did."</p> - -<p>"I saw enough today," I said. "I don't want to see any more."</p> - -<p>"Do you make him?" Gaston asked. He sounded interested.</p> - -<p>"No," I said. "I didn't see his face. But I've lost my curiosity."</p> - -<p>Gaston laughed. "OK, chief," he said. He handed me a soiled card, with -something scribbled on it. "Maybe this will do you some good. It's the -Big Boss's address out of town. I swiped it; it was all I could find. -Now let's blow out of here."</p> - -<p>I stuck the card in my pocket. I was a little confused.</p> - -<p>"Wait a minute, Gaston; you mean you're helping me get away?"</p> - -<p>"Gros said I was supposed to keep an eye on you, look out you didn't -have no accident," Gaston said. "I always done all right doing what my -brother told me; I don't see no reason to stop now just because they -killed him."</p> - -<p>"Your brother," I said.</p> - -<p>"Gros was my brother," Gaston said. "I ain't smart like Gros, but he -always took care of me. I always done what he said. He told me to look -out for you, Hammer-hand."</p> - -<p>"What about them?" I asked, nodding toward the house. "They won't like -it when they find us both missing."</p> - -<p>Gaston spat. "To hell with them monkeys," he said. "They gimme the -willies."</p> - -<p>I was beginning to feel jolly all of a sudden, by reaction.</p> - -<p>"Listen, Gaston; can you go back in there and get the clothes I had on -when I got here?"</p> - -<p>Gaston fumbled in the dark at a sack slung over his shoulder. "I -thought you might want that suit, Hammer-hand," he said. "You was real -particular about that with Miche." He handed me a bundle. I knew the -feel of it. It was the uniform.</p> - -<p>"Gaston," I said. "You're a wonder. I don't suppose you brought along -the little gimmick I had on my wrist?"</p> - -<p>"I think I stuck it in the pocket," he said. "Somebody swiped the fancy -gloves you had in the belt, though. I'm sorry about the gloves."</p> - -<p>I fumbled over the blouse, and felt the lump in the pocket. With that -slug-gun in my hand I was ready to lick the world.</p> - -<p>"That's OK about the gloves, Gaston," I said. I strapped the clip to -my wrist and tucked the gun away. I pulled off the old coat I wore and -slipped the blouse on. This was more like it.</p> - -<p>I looked at the house. All was peaceful. It was dark enough now that we -wouldn't be seen crossing the field. It was time to go.</p> - -<p>"Come on," I said. I took a sight on a bright star and struck out -across the soft ground.</p> - -<p>In fifty steps the house was completely lost to view. The wall and high -foliage obscured the lights on the first floor; upstairs the house was -in darkness. I kept the star before me and stumbled on. I never knew -how hard it was to walk in a plowed field in the dark.</p> - -<p>It was fifteen minutes before I made out a deeper darkness against the -faintly lighter sky ahead. That would be the line of trees along the -river; I was still assuming there was a river.</p> - -<p>Then we were among the trees, feeling our way slowly. The ground -sloped and the next moment I was sliding down a muddy bank into shallow -water.</p> - -<p>"Yes," I said, "it's a river all right." I scrambled out, and stood -peering toward the west. I could see nothing. If we had to pick our way -through trees all night, without a moon, we wouldn't be a mile away by -dawn.</p> - -<p>"Which way does this river flow, Gaston?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"That way," he said. "To Algiers—into the city."</p> - -<p>"Can you swim?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Sure," Gaston replied. "I can swim good."</p> - -<p>"OK," I said. "Strip and make a bundle of your clothes. Put whatever -you don't want to get wet in the middle; strap the bundle to your -shoulders with your belt."</p> - -<p>We grunted and fumbled in the darkness.</p> - -<p>I finished my packing and stepped down into the water. It was warm -weather; that was a break. I still had the slug-gun on my wrist. I -wanted it close to me.</p> - -<p>I stepped out into the stream, pushed off as the bottom shelved. I -paddled a few strokes to get clear of the reeds growing near the shore. -All around was inky blackness, with only the brilliant stars overhead -to relieve the emptiness.</p> - -<p>"OK, Gaston?" I called.</p> - -<p>I heard him splashing quietly.</p> - -<p>"Sure," he said.</p> - -<p>"Let's go out a little farther and then take it easy," I said. "Let the -river do the work."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph1">Chapter 10</p> - - -<p>The current was gentle. Far across the river I saw a tiny light now. -We drifted slowly past it. I moved my hands just enough to keep my -nose above water. The surface was calm. I yawned; I could have slept -tonight, I thought, remembering the sleepless hours of the night -before. But it would be a long time between beds for me.</p> - -<p>I saw a glinting reflection on a ripple ahead, and glanced back. There -were lights on in the second story of the house we had left.</p> - -<p>I called to Gaston, pointing out the lights.</p> - -<p>"Yeah," he said. "I been watching them. I don't think we got nothing to -worry about."</p> - -<p>They could follow our trail to the water's edge easily enough, I knew, -with nothing more than a flashlight. As if in response to my thought, -a tiny gleam appeared at ground level, wavering, blinking as the trees -passed between us. It moved, bobbing toward the river. I watched until -it emerged from the trees. I saw the yellow gleam dancing across the -water where we had started. Other lights were following now, two, three.</p> - -<p>The whole household must have joined the chase. They must be expecting -to find me huddled on the ground nearby, exhausted, ready for the table -they had prepared for me in the presence of my enemies.</p> - -<p>The lights fanned out, moving along the shore. I saw that we were -safely ahead of them.</p> - -<p>"Gaston," I said, "have they got a boat back there?"</p> - -<p>"Nah," he replied. "We're in the clear."</p> - -<p>The little lights were pitiful, bobbing along the shore, falling behind.</p> - -<p>We floated along then in silence for an hour or more. It was still, -almost restful. Only a gentle fluttering of the hands was required to -keep our heads above water.</p> - -<p>Suddenly lights flashed ahead, over the river.</p> - -<p>"Cripes," Gaston hissed, backing water. "I forgot about the Salan -bridge. Them bunnies is on there waitin' for us."</p> - -<p>I could see the bridge, now, as the lights flashed across the pilings. -It was about a hundred yards ahead.</p> - -<p>"Head for the far shore, Gaston," I said. "Fast and quiet."</p> - -<p>I couldn't risk the splash of a crawl stroke, so I dog-paddled -frantically, my hands under the surface. They would have had us neatly, -if they hadn't shown the lights when they did, I thought. They couldn't -see us without them, though, so it was just a chance they had to take. -They must have estimated the speed of the river's flow, and tried to -pinpoint us. They didn't miss by much; in fact, they might not have -missed at all. I concentrated on putting every ounce of energy into my -strokes. My knees hit mud, and reeds brushed my face. I rolled over and -sat up, breathing hard. Gaston floundered a few feet away.</p> - -<p>"Here," I hissed. "Keep it quiet."</p> - -<p>The light on the bridge blinked out suddenly. I wondered what they'd -do next. If they headed along the banks, flashing lights, we'd have -to take to the water again; and if one man stayed on the bridge, and -flashed his light down just about the right moment—</p> - -<p>"Let's get going," I said.</p> - -<p>I started up the slope, crouching low. The lights appeared again, down -at the water's edge now, flashing on the tall grass and cattails. -Another appeared on the opposite bank. I stopped to listen. Feet made -sloshing sounds in the mud, a hundred feet away. Good; that would cover -our noise. My wet shoes dangled by the strings, thumping my chest.</p> - -<p>The ground was firmer now, the grass not so tall. I stopped again, -Gaston right behind me, looking back. They'd find our tracks any -minute. We had no time to waste. The bundle of clothing was a nuisance, -but we couldn't stop to dress now.</p> - -<p>"Come on," I whispered, and broke into a run.</p> - -<p>Fifty feet from the top we dropped and started crawling. I didn't want -to be seen in silhouette against the sky as we topped the rise.</p> - -<p>We pulled ourselves along, puffing and grunting. Crawling is hard -work for a grown man. Just over the top we paused to look over the -situation. The road leading to the bridge wound away toward a distant -glow in the sky.</p> - -<p>"That's an army supply depot out that way," Gaston said. "No town."</p> - -<p>I raised up to look back toward the river. Two lights bobbed together, -then started slowly away from the water's edge. I heard a faint shout.</p> - -<p>"They've spotted the trail," I said. I jumped up and ran down the -slope, trying to breathe deep, in for four strides, out for four. A man -could run for a long time if he didn't get winded. Stones bruised my -bare feet.</p> - -<p>I angled over toward the highway, with some idea of making better time. -Gaston was beside me.</p> - -<p>"Nix," he said, puffing hard. "Them bunnies got a machine."</p> - -<p>For a moment I didn't know what he meant; then I heard the sound of -an engine starting up, and headlights lanced into the darkness, beams -aimed at the distant tree-tops as the car headed up the slope of the -approach to the bridge from the other side. We had only a few seconds -before the car would slant down on this side, and illuminate the road -and a wide strip on either side; we'd be spotlighted.</p> - -<p>Ahead, I saw a fence, just a glint from a wire. That finished it; we -were stopped. I slid to a halt. Then I saw that the fence lined a cross -road, joining the road we were paralleling twenty feet away. Maybe a -culvert ... I dived for shelter.</p> - -<p>A corrugated steel pipe eighteen inches in diameter ran beside the main -road where the other joined it. I scrambled over pebbles and twigs and -into the mouth. The sounds I made echoed hollowly inside. I kept going -to the far end, Gaston wheezing behind me. I stopped and looked over my -shoulder. Gaston had backed in and lay a few feet inside his end. The -glow of the headlights gave me a glimpse of a heavy automatic in his -hand.</p> - -<p>"Good boy," I hissed. "Don't shoot unless you have to."</p> - -<p>The lights of the car flickered over trees, highlighting rocks. -Through the open end of the pipe I saw a rabbit sitting up in the -glare, a few feet away. He turned and bounded off.</p> - -<p>The car came slowly along, passed, moved on down the road. I breathed a -little easier.</p> - -<p>I was on the point of turning to say something to Gaston when a small -stone rolled down into the ditch before me. I stiffened. A faint scuff -of shoes on gravel, another stone dislodged—and then a flashlight -beam darted across the gulley, played on the grass opposite, came to -rest on the open end of the drain pipe. I held my breath. Then the -steps came nearer, and the light probed, found my shoulder. There was a -frozen instant of silence, then the sharp slap of the slug-gun hitting -my palm. I caught a glimpse of the car a hundred feet away now, still -edging along, heard a sharp intake of breath as the man with the light -readied a shout. I pointed the gun to the right of the flash and the -recoil slammed my arm back. The flashlight skidded across the rocky -ground and went out as the man's body crashed heavily and lay still. I -groped for the man's feet, hauled him back toward the pipe.</p> - -<p>"Gaston," I whispered. The sound was hollow in the dark tunnel. "Give -me a hand." I pulled at the feet. I was glad it wasn't the doctor; he -wouldn't have fitted.</p> - -<p>I crawled out of the pipe and Gaston came up beside me.</p> - -<p>"After the car," I said. I had what I hoped was an idea. I was tired of -being chased; the hunted would become the hunter.</p> - -<p>I headed up the ditch at a trot, head down, Gaston at my heels. The car -had stopped a hundred yards away. I counted three flashlights moving in -the edge of the field.</p> - -<p>"Close enough," I hissed. "Let's split up now. I'll cross the road and -come up the other side. There's only one man over there. You get up in -the tall grass and sneak in as close to the car as you can. Watch me -and take your cue."</p> - -<p>I darted across the road, a grotesque figure, naked, my bundle dangling -by its strap from my shoulder. The car's headlights were still on. No -one could see us from beyond them, looking into the glare. I dropped -down into the ditch, wincing as sharp sticks jabbed my bare feet. The -man on my side was casting about in wide circles, fifty feet from the -road. A cricket sawed away insistently.</p> - -<p>The car started backing, swung to one side of the road, then went -forward; the driver was in the car, all right, he was turning around. -They must have come up the road to cut us off, planning to move back to -the river, searching foot by foot until they flushed us. No one seemed -to have missed the man who now lay quietly in the steel pipe.</p> - -<p>The car swung around and moved along at a snail's pace, headlights -flooding the road I had just crossed. I dropped down to the bottom -of the ditch as the lights passed over me. The car came on, and -stopped just above me. I could see the driver, staring out through the -windshield. He leaned forward, peering. I wondered if he was looking -for the man who had been coming along on foot, checking the ditch; he'd -be a long time seeing him from here.</p> - -<p>He opened the door, stepped out, one foot on the running board. The -car was long and top-heavy with flaring fenders. Dust roiled and gnats -danced in the beams from the great bowl-shaped headlights.</p> - -<p>I picked up a heavy stone, rose silently to hands and knees, and crept -up out of the ditch. The chauffeur stood with a hand on the top of -the door, looking over it. I came up behind him and hit him as hard -as I could on the top of the head. He folded into the seat. I shoved -him over, jumped in, and closed the door. It was hard to get the coat -off him in the dark, while trying to stay down behind the door, but -I managed it. I put it on and sat up. There was no alarm. The three -flashlights continued to bob around in the fields. The engine was -running quietly.</p> - -<p>I looked over the controls. The steering wheel was in the center, and -there were three pedals on the floor. I let the center pedal in; the -car moved off slowly. I steered to the right side of the road, crept -along the edge. Gaston must be about here, I thought. I stared out into -the darkness; I could see practically nothing.</p> - -<p>I eased to a stop. The flashlight nearest me swung back and forth, -moving toward the bridge. I reached out to the dash, pushed in a lever -that projected from it. The headlights died.</p> - -<p>I could see better now. The flashlights to my right stopped moving, -turned toward me. I waved cheerfully. I didn't think they could make -out my face in the dim beam at that distance. One of the lights seemed -satisfied, resumed its search; the other hesitated, flashing over the -car.</p> - -<p>There was a shout then, and I saw Gaston up and running toward me. -The flashlights converged on him as he leaped across the ditch ahead, -coming into the road. The lights came bounding toward him and someone -was yelling. Gaston stopped, whirled toward the nearest light, aiming -the pistol. There was a sharp sound. Both lights on his side dropped. -Not bad shooting for a .45, I thought. I jerked open the door and -Gaston jumped in beside me. Behind there was a faint shout from the -remaining man on the other side of the road, and the crack of a gun. -The slug made a solid thunk as it hit the heavy steel of the car. I -floorboarded the center and left pedals; the car jumped ahead, then -coasted. Another slug starred the glass beside me, scattering glass -chips in my hair. I let my foot off, tried again. The car surged -forward. I flipped the lights on. The car shifted up, tires squealing. -Ahead, a figure stumbled down into the ditch, scrambled up the other -side into the road, waving its arms. I saw the open mouth in the taut -white face for an instant in the flare of the lights before it was -slammed down out of sight, with a shock that bounced us in our seats.</p> - -<p>The bridge loomed ahead, narrow and highly arched. We took it wide -open, crushed down in the seat as we mounted the slope, floating as -we dropped on the other side. The road curved off to the left, tall -trees lining it. The tires howled as we rounded the turn and hit the -straightaway.</p> - -<p>"This is great, Hammer-hand," Gaston shouted. "I never rode in one of -these here machines before."</p> - -<p>"Neither did I," I yelled back.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph1">Chapter 11</p> - - -<p>The night was black, with no moon. My next problem was to get into the -walled town. The road led along the river's edge into the heart of the -city, according to Gaston. The dictator's stronghold lay at the edge of -the city north of the highway we were on. He had fortified the area, -enclosing shops and houses within an encircling wall like a medieval -town, creating a self-sufficient community to support the castle and -its occupants, easily patrolled and policed. It was no defense against -an army, but practical as a safeguard against assassins and rioters.</p> - -<p>"That's us," I said aloud. "Assassins and rioters."</p> - -<p>"Sure, chief," Gaston said.</p> - -<p>There was a glow in the sky ahead. From the road only a few scattered -lights were visible. The countryside seemed almost unpopulated.</p> - -<p>Twenty minutes of driving brought us to the bombed-out edge of the -city. The rubble stretched ahead, with here and there a shack or a tiny -patch of garden. To the right the mass of the castle loomed up, faintly -visible in the glow from the streets below it, unseen behind the wall. -To the original massive old country house, Bayard had added rambling -outbuildings, great mismatched wings, and the squat tower.</p> - -<p>I pulled over, cut the headlights. Gaston and I looked silently at the -lights in the tower. He lit a cigarette.</p> - -<p>"How are we going to get in there, Gaston?" I said. "How do we get over -the wall?"</p> - -<p>Gaston stared at the walls, thinking. "Listen, Hammer-hand," he said. -"You wait here, while I check around a little. I'm pretty good at -casing a layout, and I know this one from the inside; I'll find a spot -if there is one. Keep an eye peeled for the street gangs."</p> - -<p>I sat and waited. I rolled up the windows and locked the doors. I -couldn't see any signs of life about the broken walls around me. -Somewhere a cat yowled.</p> - -<p>I checked my clothes over. Both lapels were missing; the tiny set was -still clipped to my belt, but without speaker or mike, it was useless. -I ran my tongue over the tooth with the cyanide sealed in it. I might -need it yet.</p> - -<p>The door rattled. I had dozed off. Gaston's face pressed against the -glass. I unlocked it and he slid in beside me.</p> - -<p>"OK, Hammer-hand," he said. "Think I got us a spot. We go along the -edge of the drainage ditch over there to where it goes under the wall. -Then we got to get down inside it and ease under the guard tower. It -comes out in the clear on the other side."</p> - -<p>I got out and followed Gaston over broken stones to the ditch. It was -almost a creek, and the smell of it was terrible.</p> - -<p>Gaston led me along its edge for a hundred yards, until the wall hung -over us just beyond the circle of light from the guard tower. I could -see a fellow with a burp gun leaning against a post on top of the -tower, looking down onto the street inside the wall. There were two -large floodlights beside him, unlit.</p> - -<p>Gaston leaned close to my ear. "It kind of stinks," he said, "but the -wall is pretty rough, so I think we can make it OK."</p> - -<p>He slid over the edge, found a foothold, and disappeared. I slid down -after him, groping with my foot for a ledge. The wall was crudely laid, -with plenty of cracks and projecting stones, but slimy with moss. I -groped along, one precarious foot at a time. We passed the place where -the light gleamed on the black water below, hugging the shadow. Then -we were under the wall, which arched massively over us. The sound of -trickling water was louder here.</p> - -<p>I tried to see what was going on ahead. Gaston had stopped and was -descending. I could barely make out his figure, knee-deep in the -malodorous stream. I moved closer. Then I saw the grating. It was made -of iron bars, and completely blocked the passage.</p> - -<p>I climbed over to the grating, leaned against the rusty iron to ease my -arms. The defense system didn't have quite the hole in it we thought it -had. Gaston moved around below me, reaching under the surface to try to -find a bottom edge. Maybe we could duck under the barrier.</p> - -<p>Suddenly I felt myself slipping.</p> - -<p>Below me, Gaston hissed a curse, scrabbled upward. My grip was firm, -I realized in an instant; it was the grating that was slipping. It -dropped another eight inches with a muffled scraping and clank, then -stopped. The rusty metal had given under our weight. The corroded ends -of the bars had broken off at the left side. There wasn't room to pass, -but maybe we could force it a little further.</p> - -<p>Gaston braced himself against the wall and heaved. I got into position -beside him and added my weight. The frame shifted a little, then stuck.</p> - -<p>"Gaston," I said. "Maybe I can get under it now, and heave from the -other side." Gaston moved back, and I let myself down into the reeking -water. I worked an arm through, then dropped down waist deep, chest -deep, pushing. The rough metal scraped my face, caught at my clothing; -but I was through.</p> - -<p>I crawled back up, dripping, and rested. From the darkness behind -Gaston I heard a meshing of oiled metal parts and then the cavern -echoed with the thunder of machine gun fire. In the flashing light I -saw Gaston stiffen against the grating and fall. He hung by one hand, -caught in the grating. There were shouts, and men dropped onto the -stone coping at the culvert mouth. Gaston jerked, fumbled his pistol -from his blouse.</p> - -<p>"Gaston," I said. "Quick, under the bars...." I was helpless. I knew he -was too big.</p> - -<p>A man appeared, clinging to the coping with one hand, climbing down -to enter the dark opening. He flashed a light at us and Gaston, still -dangling by the left hand, fired. The man fell over into the stream -with a tremendous splash.</p> - -<p>Gaston gasped. "That's ... all...." The gun fell from his hand into the -black water.</p> - -<p>I moved fast now, from one hand-hold to the next, slipping and -clutching, but not quite falling somehow. I managed to get a look back -as I reached the open air. Two men were tugging at the body wedged in -the opening. Even in death, Gaston guarded my retreat.</p> - -<p>I came up over the side, and flattened against the wall, slug-gun in my -hand; the street was empty. They must have thought they had us trapped; -this side was deserted. I was directly under the tower. I eased out a -few feet, and craned my neck; a shadow moved at the top of the tower. -There was still one man on duty there. He must have heard the grating -fall and called for reinforcements.</p> - -<p>I looked down the street ahead. I recognized the Street of the Olive -Trees, the same one I had come through on my way out with Gros, ten -days earlier. It slanted down, curving to the right. That was where I -had to go, into the naked street, under the guns. I liked it here in -the shadow of the tower, but I couldn't stay. I leaped forward, running -for my life. The searchlight snapped on, swung, found me, burning -my leaping shadow against dusty walls and the loose-cobbled street. -Instinct told me to leap aside. As I did, the gun clattered and slugs -whined off the stones to my left. I was out of the light now, and -dashing for the protection of the curving wall ahead. The light was -still groping as I rounded the turn. No lights came on above me; I ran -in utter silence. The dwellers in these scarred tenements had learned -to sit silent behind barred windows when guns talked in the narrow -streets.</p> - -<p>I passed the spot where Gros had died, dashed on. In the distance a -whistle blew again and again. A shot rang out, kicking up dust ahead. I -kept going.</p> - -<p>I heard running feet behind me now. I scanned the shabby stalls ahead, -empty and dark, trying to find the one we had used the day we left the -palace, where the old woman huddled over her table of clay ware. It had -been tiny, with a ragged gray awning sagging over the front and broken -pots scattered before it.</p> - -<p>I almost passed it, caught myself, skidded, and dived for the back. I -fought the stiff tarpaulin, found the opening and squeezed through.</p> - -<p>I panted in complete darkness now. Outside, I heard voices as the men -shouted to each other, searching. I had a moment's respite; they didn't -know this entry.</p> - -<p>I looked at my watch. Things happened fast in this war world; it was -not yet half past nine. I had left the house at seven. I had killed -three men in those two hours, and a man had died for me. I thought how -easily a man slips back to his ancient role as nature's most deadly -hunter.</p> - -<p>I felt the fatigue suddenly. I yawned, sat on the floor. I had an -impulse to lie back and go to sleep, but instead I got up and began -feeling my way toward the passage. I wasn't finished yet; I was in the -palace, unwounded, armed. I had all I had any right to hope for—a -fighting chance.</p> - -<p>I was no longer the eager neophyte, ignorant of the realities; I came -now, steeled by necessity, a hardened fighter, a practical killer. I -was armed and I was desperate, and I bore the scars of combat. I did -not intend to fail.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Half an hour later, I eased a door open and looked down the length of -the same hall into which the shuttle had pitched me headlong two weeks -before. It hadn't changed. I stepped into the hall, tried the first -door. It opened, and I saw that it was a bedroom. I went in, and by the -faint light shining through the curtains from below, looked over a wide -bed, a large desk against the far wall, a closet door, an easy chair, -and through a partly open door, a roomy bathroom to the right. I closed -the door behind me, and crossed to the windows. There were steel -shutters, painted light green to match the walls, folded back behind -the draperies. I closed them, then went to the desk and flipped on the -lamp. I had had enough of groping through the dark for one night.</p> - -<p>The room was very handsome, spacious, with a deep pile grey-green rug -and a pair of bold water-colors on the wall. Suddenly I was aware of my -own reek. The clothes seemed to crawl on my back. I had lain in mud, -waded a sewer, crept through ancient dust. Without considering further, -I pulled the encrusted tunic off, tossed my clothes in a heap by the -door, and headed for the bath.</p> - -<p>I took half an hour soaping myself, and then climbed out and got my -uniform. I had nothing else to put on, and I wouldn't wear it as it -was. I soaped it up, rinsed it out, and draped it over the side of the -tub. There was a vast white bathrobe behind the door, and I wrapped -myself in it and went back into the bedroom.</p> - -<p>The thought penetrated to my dulled mind that I was behaving -dangerously. I tried again to shake myself alert. But alarm wouldn't -come. I felt perfectly safe, secure, comfortable. This won't do, I -thought; I'm going to go to sleep on my feet. I yawned again.</p> - -<p>I sat down in the chair opposite the door, and prepared to wait it -out. I got up, as an after-thought, and turned the light out. I don't -remember sitting down again.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph1">Chapter 12</p> - - -<p>I dreamt I was at the seashore, and the sun reflected from the glassy -water. It flashed in my eyes, and I turned away. I twisted in the -chair, opened my eyes. My head was thick.</p> - -<p>I stared at the pale green walls of the room, across the grey-green -rug. It was silent in the room and I didn't move. The door stood open.</p> - -<p>I remembered turning the light off, nothing more. Someone had turned it -on; someone had opened the door. I had come as a killer in the night; -and someone had found me here sleeping, betrayed by my own exhaustion.</p> - -<p>I sat up, and in that instant realized I was not alone. I turned my -head, and looked at the man who sat quietly in the chair on my left, -leaning back with his legs thrust out stiffly before him, his hands -lightly gripping the arms of a rosewood chair upholstered in black -leather. He smiled, and leaned forward. It was like looking into a -mirror.</p> - -<p>I didn't move. I stared at him. His face was thinner than mine, more -lined. The skin was burned dark, the hair bleached lighter by the -African sun; but it was me I looked at. Not a twin, not a double, not a -clever actor; it was myself, sitting in a chair, looking at me.</p> - -<p>"You have been sleeping soundly," he said. I thought of hearing my -voice on a tape recorder, except this voice spoke in flawless French.</p> - -<p>I moved my hand slightly; my gun was still there, and the man I had -come to kill sat not ten feet away, alone, unprotected. But I didn't -move. I wasn't ready, not yet. Maybe not ever.</p> - -<p>"Are you rested enough," he said, "or will you sleep longer before we -talk?"</p> - -<p>"I'm rested," I said.</p> - -<p>"I do not know how you came here," he said, "but that you are here is -enough. I did not know what gift the tide of fortune would bring to me, -but there could be no finer thing than this—a brother."</p> - -<p>I didn't know what I had expected the Dictator Bayard to be—a sullen -ruffian, a wild-eyed megalomaniac, a sly-eyed schemer. But I had not -expected a breathing image of myself, with a warm smile, and a poetic -manner of speech, a man who called me brother.</p> - -<p>He looked at me with an expression of intense interest.</p> - -<p>"You speak excellent French, but with an English accent," he said. "Or -is it perhaps American?" He smiled. "You must forgive my curiosity. -Linguistics, accents, they are a hobby of mine and, in your case, I am -doubly intrigued."</p> - -<p>"American," I said.</p> - -<p>"Amazing," he said. "I might have been born an American myself ... but -that is a long dull tale to tell another time."</p> - -<p>No need, I thought. My father told it to me often, when I was a boy.</p> - -<p>He went on, his voice intense, but gentle, friendly. "They told me, -when I returned to Algiers ten days ago, that a man resembling myself -had been seen here in the apartment. There were two men found in my -study, quite dead. There was a great deal of excitement, a garbled -report. But I was struck by the talk of a man who looked like me. I -wanted to see him, talk to him; I have been so very much alone here. It -was a thing that caught my imagination. Of course, I did not know what -brought this man here; they even talked of danger...." He spread his -hands in a Gallic gesture.</p> - -<p>"But when I came into this room and found you here, sleeping, I knew at -once that you could not have come but in friendship. I was touched, my -friend, to see that you came here on your own, entrusting yourself to -my hands."</p> - -<p>I couldn't say anything. I didn't try.</p> - -<p>"When I lit the lamp and saw your face, I knew at once that this was -more than some shallow impersonation; I saw my own face there, not so -worn by war as my own, the lines not so deeply etched. But there was -the call of blood to blood; I knew you for my brother."</p> - -<p>I licked my lips, swallowed. He leaned forward, placed his hand over -mine, gripped it hard, then leaned back in his chair with a sigh.</p> - -<p>"Forgive me again, brother. I fall easily into oratory, I fear; a habit -I should do well to break. There is time enough for plans later. But -now, will you tell me of yourself? I know you have in you the blood of -the Bayards."</p> - -<p>"Yes, my name is Bayard."</p> - -<p>"You must have wanted very much to come to me, to have made your way -here alone and unarmed. No one has ever passed the wall before, without -an escort and many papers."</p> - -<p>I couldn't sit here silent, but neither could I tell this man anything -of my real purpose in coming. I reminded myself of the treatment the -Imperial ambassadors had received at his hands, of all that Bale had -told me that first morning in the meeting with Bernadotte. But I saw -nothing here of the ruthless tyrant I expected. Instead, I found myself -responding to his spontaneous welcome.</p> - -<p>I had to tell him something. My years of diplomatic experience came to -my assistance once again. I found myself lying smoothly.</p> - -<p>"You're right in thinking I can help you, Brion," I said. I was -startled to hear myself calling him by his first name so easily, but it -seemed the natural thing to do.</p> - -<p>"But you're wrong in assuming that your state is the only surviving -center of civilization. There is another, a strong, dynamic, and -friendly power, which would like to establish amicable relations with -you. I am the emissary of that government."</p> - -<p>"But why did you not come to me openly? The course you chose, while -daring, was of extreme danger; but it must be that you were aware of -the treachery all about me, and feared that my enemies would keep you -from me."</p> - -<p>He seemed so eager to understand that he supplied most of his own -answers. This seemed an opportune moment to broach the subject of -Bale's two agents who had carried full diplomatic credentials, and -who had been subjected to beating, torture, and death. It was a -contradiction in the dictator's character I wanted to shed a little -light on.</p> - -<p>"I recall that two men sent to you a year ago were not well received," -I said. "I was unsure of my reception. I wanted to see you privately, -face to face."</p> - -<p>Bayard's face tensed. "Two men?" he said. "I have heard nothing of -ambassadors."</p> - -<p>"They were met first by a Colonel-General Yang," I said, "and afterward -were interviewed by you personally."</p> - -<p>Bayard's face went red. "There is a dog of a broken officer who leads a -crew of cut-throats in raids on what pitiful commerce I have been able -to encourage. His name is Yang. If he has molested a legation sent to -me from your country, I promise you his head."</p> - -<p>"It was said that you yourself shot one of them," I said, pressing the -point.</p> - -<p>Bayard gripped the arm of the chair, his eyes on my face.</p> - -<p>"I swear to you by the honor of the House of Bayard that I have never -heard until this moment of your Embassy, and that no harm came to them -through any act of mine."</p> - -<p>I believed him. I was starting to wonder about a lot of things. He -seemed sincere in welcoming the idea of an alliance with a civilized -power. And yet, I myself had seen the carnage done by his raiders at -the palace, and the atom bomb they had tried to detonate there.</p> - -<p>"Very well," I said. "On behalf of my government, I accept your -statement; but if we treaty with you now, what assurance will be given -to us that there will be no repetition of the bombing raids?"</p> - -<p>"Bombing raids!" He stared at me. There was a silence.</p> - -<p>"Thank God you came to me by night, in secret," he said. "It is plain -to me now that control of affairs has slipped from me farther even than -I had feared."</p> - -<p>"There have been seven raids, four of them accompanied by atomic bombs, -in the past year," I said. "The most recent was less than one month -ago."</p> - -<p>His voice was deadly now. "By my order, every gram of fissionable -material known to me to exist was dumped into the sea on the day that I -established this state. That there were traitors in my service, I knew; -but that there were madmen who would begin the horror again, I did not -suspect."</p> - -<p>He turned and stared across the room at a painting of sunlight shining -through leaves onto a weathered wall. "I fought them when they burned -the libraries, melted down the Cellini altar pieces, trampled the Mona -Lisa in the ruins of the Louvre. I could save only a fragment here, a -remnant there, always telling myself that it was not too late. But the -years passed and they have brought no change.</p> - -<p>"There has been an end to industry, farming, family life. Even with the -plenty that lies about us for the taking, men fight over three things: -gold, liquor, and women.</p> - -<p>"I have tried to arouse a spirit of rebuilding against the day when -even the broken storehouses run dry; but it's useless. Only my rigid -martial rule holds them in check.</p> - -<p>"I will confess. I had lost hope. There was too much decay all around -me. In my own house, among my closest advisors, I heard nothing but -talk of armament, expeditionary forces, domination, renewed war against -the ruins outside our little island of order. Empty war, meaningless -overlordship of dead nations. They hoped to spend our slender resources -in stamping out whatever traces might remain of human achievement, -unless it bowed to our supremacy."</p> - -<p>When he looked at me I thought of the expression, "Blazing eyes."</p> - -<p>"Now my hope springs up renewed," he said. "With a brother at my side, -we will prevail."</p> - -<p>I thought about it. The Imperium had given me full powers. I might as -well use them.</p> - -<p>"I think I can assure you," I said, "that the worst is over. My -government has resources; you may ask for whatever you need—men, -supplies, equipment. We ask only one thing of you—friendship and -justice between us."</p> - -<p>He leaned back, closed his eyes. "The long night is over," he said.</p> - -<p>There were still major points to be covered, but I felt sure that -Bayard had been grossly misrepresented to me, and to the Imperial -government. I wondered how Imperial Intelligence had been so completely -taken in and why. Bale had spoken of having a team of his best men -here, sending a stream of data back to him.</p> - -<p>There was also the problem of my transportation back to the Zero Zero -world of the Imperium. Bayard hadn't mentioned the MC shuttles. In -fact, thinking over what he had said, he talked as though they didn't -exist. Perhaps he was holding out on me, in spite of his apparent -candor.</p> - -<p>Bayard opened his eyes. "There has been enough of gravity for now," he -said. "I think that a little rejoicing between us would be appropriate. -I wonder if you share my liking for an impromptu feast on such an -occasion?"</p> - -<p>"I love to eat in the middle of the night," I said, "especially when -I've missed my dinner."</p> - -<p>"You are a true Bayard," he said. He reached to the table beside me and -pressed a button. He leaned back and placed his finger tips together.</p> - -<p>"And so now we must think about the menu." He pursed his lips, looking -thoughtful. "Tonight, permit me to select the menu," he said. "We will -see if our tastes are as similar as ourselves."</p> - -<p>"Fine," I said.</p> - -<p>There was a tap at the door. At Brion's call, it opened and a -sour-faced fiftyish little man came in. He saw me, started; then his -face blanked. He crossed to the dictator's chair, drew himself up, and -said, "I came as quick as I could, Major."</p> - -<p>"Fine, fine, Luc," he said. "At ease. My brother and I are hungry. We -have a very special hunger, and I want you, Luc, to see to it that our -dinner does the kitchen credit."</p> - -<p>Luc glanced at me from the corner of his eye. "I see the gentleman -resembles the Major somewhat," he said.</p> - -<p>"An amazing likeness. Now—" he stared at the ceiling. "We will begin -with a very dry Madeira, I think; Sercial, the 1875. Then we will whet -our appetites with <i>Les Huitres de Whitstable</i>, with a white Burgundy; -Chablis Vaudesir. I think there is still a bit of the '29."</p> - -<p>I leaned forward. This sounded like something special indeed. I had -eaten oysters Whitstable before, but the wines were vintages of which I -had only heard.</p> - -<p>"The soup, <i>Consomme Double aux Cepes</i>; then <i>Le Supreme de Brochet au -Beurre Blanc</i>, and for our first red Burgundy, Romanee-Conti, 1904."</p> - -<p>Brion ran through the remainder of a sumptuous menu. Luc went away -quietly. If he could carry that in his head, he was the kind of waiter -I'd always wanted to find.</p> - -<p>"Luc has been with me for many years," Brion said. "A faithful friend. -You noticed that he called me 'Major.' That was the last official rank -I held in the Army of France-in-Exile, before the collapse. I was -later elected as Colonel over a regiment of survivors of the Battle of -Gibraltar when we had realized that we were on our own. Later still, -when I saw what had to be done, and took into my hands the task of -rebuilding, other titles were given me by my followers, and I confess I -conferred one or two myself; it was a necessary psychological measure, -I felt. But to Luc I have always remained 'Major.' He himself was a -sous-officer, my regimental Sergeant-Major."</p> - -<p>"I know little about events of the last few years in Europe," I said. -"Can you tell me something about them?"</p> - -<p>He sat thoughtfully for a moment. "The course was steadily downhill," -he said, "from the day of the unhappy Peace of Munich in 1919. America -faced the Central Powers alone, and the end was inevitable. When -America fell under the massive onslaught in '32, it seemed that the -Kaiser's dream of a German-dominated world was at hand. Then came -the uprisings. I held a Second Lieutenant's commission in the Army -of France-in-Exile. We spearheaded the organized resistance, and the -movement spread like wild-fire. Men, it seemed, would not live as -slaves. We had high hopes in those days.</p> - -<p>"But the years passed, and stalemate wore away at us. At last the -Kaiser was overthrown by a palace coup, and we chose that chance to -make our last assault. I led my battalion on Gibraltar, and took a -steel-jacketed bullet through both knees almost before we were ashore.</p> - -<p>"I will never forget the hours of agony while I lay conscious in the -surgeons' tent. There was no more morphine, and the medical officers -worked over the minor cases, trying to get men back into the fight; I -was out of it and therefore took last priority. It was reasonable, but -at the time I did not understand."</p> - -<p>I listened, rapt. "When," I asked, "were you hit?"</p> - -<p>"That day I will not soon forget," he said. "April 15, 1945."</p> - -<p>I stared. I had been hit by a German machine gun slug at Jena and had -waited in the aid station for the doctors to get to me—on April 15, -1945. There was a strange affinity that linked this other Bayard's life -with mine, even across the unimaginable void of the Net.</p> - -<p>We finished the 1855 brandy, and still we sat, talking through -the African night. We laid ambitious plans for the rebuilding of -civilization. We enjoyed each other's company, and all stiffness had -long since gone. I closed my eyes, and I think I must have dozed off. -Something awakened me.</p> - -<p>Dawn was lightening the sky. Brion sat silent, frowning. He tilted his -head.</p> - -<p>"Listen."</p> - -<p>I listened. I thought I caught a faint shout and something banged in -the distance. I looked inquiringly at my host. His face was grim.</p> - -<p>"All is not well," he said. He gripped the chair arms, rose, got his -canes, started around the table.</p> - -<p>I got up and stepped forward through the glass doors into the room. I -was dizzy from the wine and brandy. There was a louder shout outside -in the hall and a muffled thump. Then the door shook, splintered and -crashed inward.</p> - -<p>Thin in a tight black uniform, Chief Inspector Bale stood in the -opening, his face white with excitement. He carried a long-barrelled -Mauser automatic pistol in his right hand. He stared at me, stepped -back, then with a sudden grimace raised the gun and fired.</p> - -<p>In the instant before the gun slammed, I caught a blur of motion from -my right, and then Brion was there, half in front of me, falling as the -shot echoed. I grabbed for him, caught him by the shoulders as he went -down, limp. Blood welled from under his collar, spreading; too much -blood, a life's blood. He was looking into my face as the light died -from his eyes.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph1">Chapter 13</p> - - -<p>"Get back, Bayard," Bale snarled. "Rotten luck, that; I needed the -swine alive for hanging." I stood up slowly. He stared at me, gnawing -his lip. "It was you I wanted dead; and this fool traded lives with -you."</p> - -<p>He seemed to be talking to himself. I recognized the voice now, a -little late. Bale was the Big Boss. It was the fact that he spoke in -French here that had fooled me.</p> - -<p>"All right," he said in abrupt decision. "He can trade deaths with you -too. You'll do to hang in his place. I'll give the mob their circus. -You wanted to take his place, here's your chance."</p> - -<p>He stepped farther into the room, motioned others in. Evil-looking -thugs came through the door, peering about, glancing at Bale for orders.</p> - -<p>"Put him in a cell," Bale said. "And I'm warning you, Cassu, keep your -bloody hands off him. I want him strong for the surgeon."</p> - -<p>Cassu grunted, twisted my arm until the joint creaked, and pushed me -past the dead body of the man I had come in one night to think of as a -brother.</p> - -<p>They marched me off down the corridor, pushed me into an elevator, led -me out again through a mob of noisy toughs armed to the teeth, down -stone stairs, along a damp tunnel in the rock, and at the end of the -line, sent me spinning with a kick into the pitch black of a cell.</p> - -<p>My stunned mind worked, trying to assimilate what had happened. Bale! -And not a double; he had known who I was. It was Bale of the Imperium, -a traitor. That answered a lot of questions. It explained the perfect -timing and placement of the attack at the palace, and why Bale had been -too busy to attend the gala affair that night. I realized now why he -had sought me out afterward; he was hoping that I'd been killed, of -course. That would have simplified matters for him. And the duel—I -had never quite been able to understand why the Intelligence chief had -been willing to risk killing me, when I was essential to the scheme -for controlling the dictator. And all the lies about the viciousness -of the Bayard of B-I Two were Bale's fabrications designed to prevent -establishment of friendly relations between the Imperium and this -unhappy world.</p> - -<p>Why? I asked myself. Did Bale plan to rule this hell-world himself, -making it his private domain? It seemed so.</p> - -<p>And I saw that Bale did not intend to content himself with this world -alone; this would be merely a base of operations, a source of fighting -men and weapons—including atomic bombs. Bale himself was the author -of the raids on the Imperium. He had stolen shuttles, or components -thereof, and had manned them here in B-I Two, and set out on a career -of piracy. The next step would be the assault on the Imperium itself, a -full-scale attack, strewing atomic death. The men of the Imperium would -wear gay uniforms and dress sabres into battle against atomic cannon.</p> - -<p>I wondered why I hadn't realized it sooner. The fantastic unlikeliness -of the development of the MC drive independently by the war-ruined -world of B-I Two seemed obvious now.</p> - -<p>While we had sat in solemn conference, planning moves against the -raiders, their prime mover had sat with us. No wonder an enemy scout -had lain in wait for me as I came in on my mission.</p> - -<p>When he found me at the hideout, Bale must have immediately set to work -planning how best to make use of the unexpected stroke of luck. And -when I had escaped, he had had to move fast.</p> - -<p>I could only assume that the State was now in his hands; that a show -execution of Bayard in the morning had been scheduled to impress the -populace with the reality of the change in regimes.</p> - -<p>Now I would hang in the dictator's place. And I remembered what Bale -had said: he wanted me strong for the surgeon. The wash tub would be -useful after all. There were enough who knew the dictator's secret to -make a corpse with legs embarrassing.</p> - -<p>They would shoot me full of dope, perform the operation, bind up the -stumps, dress my unconscious body in a uniform and hang me. A dead body -wouldn't fool the public. They would be able to see the color of life -in my face, even if I were still out, as the noose tightened.</p> - -<p>I heard someone coming, and saw a bobbing light in the passage through -the barred opening in the door. I braced myself. Maybe this was the man -with the saws and the heavy snippers already.</p> - -<p>Two men stopped at the cell door, opened it, came in. I squinted at the -glare of the flashlight. One of the two dropped something on the floor.</p> - -<p>"Put it on," he said. "The boss said he wanted you should wear this -here for the hanging."</p> - -<p>I saw my old costume, the one I had washed. At least it was clean, I -thought. It was strange, I considered, how inconsequentials still had -importance.</p> - -<p>A foot nudged me. "Put it on, like I said."</p> - -<p>"Yeah," I said. I took off the robe and pulled on the light wool jacket -and trousers, buckled the belt. There were no shoes; I guessed Bale -figured I wouldn't be needing them.</p> - -<p>"OK," the man said. "Let's go, Hiem."</p> - -<p>I sat and listened as the door clanked again; the light receded. It was -very dark.</p> - -<p>I fingered the torn lapels of my jacket. The communicator hadn't helped -me much. I could feel the broken wires, tiny filaments projecting from -the cut edge of the cloth. Beau Joe had cursed as he slashed at them!</p> - -<p>I looked down. Tiny blue sparks jumped against the utter black as the -wires touched.</p> - -<p>I sat perfectly still. Sweat broke out on my forehead. I didn't dare -move; the pain of hope awakening against all hope was worse than the -blank acceptance of certain death.</p> - -<p>My hands shook. I fumbled for the wires, tapped them together. A spark; -another.</p> - -<p>I tried to think. The communicator was clipped to my belt still; the -speaker and mike were gone but the power source was there. Was there a -possibility that touching the wires together would transmit a signal? I -didn't know. I could only try.</p> - -<p>I didn't know Morse Code, or any other code; but I knew S.O.S. Three -dots, three dashes, three dots. Over and over, while I suffered the -agony of hope.</p> - -<p>A long time passed. I tapped the wires, and waited. I almost fell off -the bunk as I dozed for an instant. I couldn't stop; I had to try until -time ran out for me.</p> - -<p>I heard them coming from far off, the first faint grate of leather on -dusty stone, a clink of metal. My mouth was dry, and my legs began to -tingle. I thought of the hollow tooth and ran my tongue over it. The -time for it had come. I wondered how it would taste, if it would be -painful. I wondered if Bale had forgotten it, or if he hadn't known.</p> - -<p>There were more sounds in the passage now, sounds of men and loud -voices; a clank of something heavy, a ponderous grinding. They must be -planning on setting the table up here in the cell, I thought. I went to -the tiny opening in the door and looked through. I could see nothing -but almost total darkness. Suddenly light flared brilliantly, and I -jumped, blinded.</p> - -<p>There was more noise, then someone yelled. They must be having a hell -of a time getting the stuff through the narrow hall, I thought. My -eyeballs ached, my legs were trembling, my stomach suddenly felt bad. -I gagged. I hoped I wouldn't go to pieces. Time for the tooth now. I -thought of how disappointed Bale would be when he found me dead in my -cell. It helped a little; but still I hesitated. I didn't want to die. -I had a lot of living I wanted to do first.</p> - -<p>Then someone called out, nearby.</p> - -<p>"Wolfhound!"</p> - -<p>My head came up. My code name. I tried to shout, choked. "Yes," I -croaked. I jumped to the bars, yelled.</p> - -<p>"Wolfhound, where in hell...."</p> - -<p>"Here!" I yelled. "Here!"</p> - -<p>"Get back, Colonel," someone said. "Get in the corner and cover up."</p> - -<p>I moved back and crouched, arms over my head. There was a sharp -hissing sound, and a mighty blast that jarred the floor under me. Tiny -particles bit and stung, and grit was in my mouth. With a drawn-out -clang, the door fell into the room.</p> - -<p>Arms grabbed me, pulled me through the boiling dust, out into the -glare. I stumbled, felt broken things underfoot.</p> - -<p>Men milled around a mass blocking the passage. Canted against the -wall a great box sat with a door hanging wide, light streaming out. -Arms helped me through the door, and I saw wires, coils, junction -boxes, stapled to bare new wood, with angle-irons here and there. -White-uniformed men crowded into the tiny space; a limp figure was -hauled through the door.</p> - -<p>"Full count," someone yelled. "Button up!" Wood splintered as a bullet -came through.</p> - -<p>The door banged shut, and the box trembled while a rumble built up into -a whine, then passed on up out of audibility.</p> - -<p>Someone grabbed my arm. "My God, Brion, you must have had a terrible -time of it."</p> - -<p>It was Richthofen, in a grey uniform, a cut on his face, staring at me.</p> - -<p>"No hard feelings," I said. "Your timing ... was good."</p> - -<p>"We've had a monitor on your band day and night, hoping for something," -he said. "We'd given you up, but couldn't bring ourselves to abandon -hope; then four hours ago the tapping started coming through. They went -after it with locators, and fixed it here in the wine cellars.</p> - -<p>"The patrol scouts couldn't get in here; no room. We pitched this box -together and came in."</p> - -<p>"Fast work," I said. I thought of the trip through the dreaded Blight, -in a jury-rig made of pine boards. I felt a certain pride in the men of -the Imperium.</p> - -<p>"Make a place for Colonel Bayard, men," someone said. A space was -cleared on the floor, jackets laid out on it. Richthofen was holding -me up and I made a mighty effort, got to the pallet and collapsed. -Richthofen said something but I didn't hear it. I wondered what had -held the meat cutters up so long, and then let it go. I had to say -something, warn them. I couldn't remember....</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph1">Chapter 14</p> - - -<p>I was lying in a clean bed in a sunny room, propped up on pillows. It -was a little like another room I had awakened in not so long before, -but there was one important difference. Barbro sat beside my bed, -knitting a ski stocking from red wool. Her hair was piled high on her -head, and the sun shone through it, coppery red. Her eyes were hazel, -and her features were perfect, and I liked lying there looking at her. -She had come every day since my return to the Imperium, and read to me, -talked to me, fed me soup and fluffed my pillows. I was enjoying my -convalescence.</p> - -<p>"If you are good, Brion," Barbro said, "and eat all of your soup today, -perhaps by tomorrow evening you will be strong enough to accept the -king's invitation."</p> - -<p>"OK," I said. "It's a deal."</p> - -<p>"The Emperor Ball," Barbro said, "is the most brilliant affair of the -year and all the three kings and the Emperor with their ladies will be -there together."</p> - -<p>I didn't answer; I was thinking. There seemed to be something I wasn't -figuring out. I had been leaving all the problems to the Intelligence -men, but I knew more than they did about Bale.</p> - -<p>I thought of the last big affair, and the brutal attack. I suspected -that this time every man would wear a slug-gun under his braided cuff. -But the fight on the floor had been merely a diversion, designed to -allow the crew to set up an atomic bomb.</p> - -<p>I sat bolt upright. That bomb had been turned over to Bale. There would -be no chance of surprise attack from a shuttle this time, with alert -crews watching around the clock for traces of unscheduled MC activity; -but there was no need to bring a bomb in. Bale had one here.</p> - -<p>"What is it, Brion?" Barbro asked, leaning forward.</p> - -<p>"What did Bale do with that bomb?" I said. "The one they tried to set -off at the dance. Where is it now?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know. It was turned over to Inspector Bale...."</p> - -<p>"When do the royal parties arrive for the Emperor Ball?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"They are already in the city," Barbro said, "at Drottningholm."</p> - -<p>I felt my heart start to beat a little faster. Bale wouldn't let this -opportunity pass. With the three kings here in the city, and an atomic -bomb hidden somewhere, he had to act. At one stroke he could wipe -out the leadership of the Imperium, and follow-up with a full-scale -assault; and against his atomic weapons, the fight would be hopeless.</p> - -<p>"Call Manfred, Barbro," I said. "Tell him that bomb's got to be found -fast. The kings will have to be evacuated from the city; the ball will -have to be cancelled...."</p> - -<p>Barbro spoke into the phone, looked back at me. "He has left the -building, Brion," she said. "Shall I try to reach Herr Goering?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," I said. I started to tell her to hurry, but she was already -speaking rapidly to someone at Goering's office. Barbro was quick to -catch on.</p> - -<p>"He also is out," Barbro said. "Is there anyone else?"</p> - -<p>I thought furiously. Manfred or Hermann would listen to anything I -might say, but with their staffs it would be a different matter. To -call off the day of celebration, disturb the royal parties, alarm the -city, were serious measures. No one would act on my vague suspicions -alone. I had to find my friends in a hurry—or find Bale.</p> - -<p>Imperial Intelligence had made a search, found nothing. His apartment -was deserted, as well as his small house at the edge of the city. And -the monitors had detected no shuttle not known to be an Imperium vessel -moving in the Net recently.</p> - -<p>There were several possibilities; one was that Bale had returned almost -at the same time as I had, slipping in before the situation was known, -while some of his own men still manned the alert stations. A second -was that he planned to come in prepared to hold off attackers until he -could detonate the bomb. Or possibly an accomplice would act for him.</p> - -<p>Somehow I liked the first thought best. It seemed more in keeping with -what I knew of Bale; shrewder, less dangerous. If I were right, Bale -was here now, somewhere in Stockholm, waiting for the hour to blow the -city sky-high.</p> - -<p>As for the hour, he would wait for the arrival of the Emperor, not -longer.</p> - -<p>"Barbro," I said, "when does the Emperor arrive?"</p> - -<p>"I'm not sure, Brion," she said. "Possibly tonight, but perhaps this -afternoon."</p> - -<p>That didn't give me much time. I jumped out of bed, and staggered.</p> - -<p>"Here I come, ready or not," I said. "I can't just lie here, Barbro. Do -you have a car?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, my car is downstairs, Brion. Sit down and let me help you." She -went to the closet and I sank down. I seemed always to be recuperating -lately. I had been through this shaky-legs business just a few days -ago, and here I was starting in again. Barbro turned, holding a brown -suit in her hands.</p> - -<p>"This is all there is, Brion," she said. "It is the uniform of the -dictator, that you wore when you came here to the hospital."</p> - -<p>"It will have to do," I said. Barbro helped me dress, and we left the -room as fast as I could walk. A passing nurse stared, but went on. I -was dizzy and panting already.</p> - -<p>The elevator helped. I sank down on the stool, head spinning.</p> - -<p>I felt something stiff in my chest pocket, and suddenly I had a vivid -recollection of Gaston giving me a card as we crouched in the dusk -behind the hideout near Algiers, telling me that he thought it was the -address of the Big Boss's out-of-town headquarters. I grabbed for the -card, squinted at it in the dim light of the ceiling lamp as the car -jolted to a stop.</p> - -<p>"Östermalmsgatan 71" was scrawled across the card in blurred pencil. I -remembered how I had dismissed it from my mind as of no interest when -Gaston had handed it to me; I had hoped for something more useful. Now -this might be the little key that could save an empire.</p> - -<p>"What is it, Brion?" Barbro asked. "Have you found something?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know," I said. "Maybe just a dead end, but maybe not." I -handed her the card. "Do you know where this is?"</p> - -<p>She read the address. "I think I know the street," she said. "It is not -far from the docks, in the warehouse district."</p> - -<p>"Let's go," I said, with a fervent hope that we were right, and not too -late.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>We squealed around a corner, slowed in a street of gloomy warehouses, -blind glass windows in looming brick-red facades, with yard-high -letters identifying the shipping lines which owned them.</p> - -<p>"This is the street," Barbro said. "And the number was seventy-one?"</p> - -<p>"That's right," I said. "This is seventy-three; stop here."</p> - -<p>We stepped out onto a gritty sidewalk, shaded by the bulk of the -buildings, silent. There was a smell of tar and hemp in the air and a -hint of sea water.</p> - -<p>I stared at the building before me. There was a small door set in the -front beside a loading platform. I went up to it, tried it. Locked. I -leaned against it and rested.</p> - -<p>"Barbro," I said. "Get me a jack handle or tire tool from your car." I -hated to drag Barbro into this, but I had no choice. I couldn't do it -alone.</p> - -<p>She came back with a flat piece of steel eighteen inches long. I -jammed it into the wide crack at the edge of the door and pulled. -Something snapped, and with a jerk the door popped open. A stair ran up -into gloom above. Barbro gave me an arm, and we started up. The hard -work helped to keep my mind off the second sun that might light the -Stockholm sky at any moment.</p> - -<p>Five flights up, we reached a landing. The door we faced was of -red-stained wood, solid and with a new lock. I looked at the hinge -pins. They didn't look as good as the lock.</p> - -<p>It took fifteen minutes, every one of which took a year off my life, -but after a final wrench with the steel bar, the last pin clattered to -the floor. The door pivoted out and fell against the wall.</p> - -<p>"Wait here," I said. I started forward, into the papered hall.</p> - -<p>"I'm going with you, Brion," Barbro said. I didn't argue.</p> - -<p>We were in a handsome apartment, a little too lavishly furnished. -Persian rugs graced the floor, and in the bars of dusty sunlight that -slanted through shuttered windows, mellow old teak furniture gleamed, -and polished ivory figurines stood on dark shelves under silk scrolls -from Japan. An ornate screen stood in the center of the room. I walked -around a brocaded ottoman over to the screen and looked behind it. On a -light tripod of aluminium rods rested the bomb.</p> - -<p>Two heavy castings, bolted together around a central flange, with a few -wires running along to a small metal box on the underside. Midway up -the curve of the side, four small holes, arranged in a square. That was -all there was; but it could make a mighty crater where a city had been.</p> - -<p>I had no way of knowing whether it was armed or not. I leaned toward -the thing, listening. I could hear no sound of a timing device. I -thought of cutting the exposed wires, which looked like some sort of -jury-rig, but I couldn't risk it; that might set it off.</p> - -<p>"Here it is," I said, "but when does it go up?" I had an odd sensation -of intangibility, as though I were already a puff of incandescent gas. -I tried to think.</p> - -<p>"Start searching the place, Barbro," I said. "You might come across -something that will give us a hint. I'll phone Manfred's office and get -a squad up here to see if we can move the thing without blowing it."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I dialed Imperial Intelligence. Manfred wasn't in, and the fellow on -the phone was uncertain what he should do.</p> - -<p>"Get a crew here on the double," I yelled. "Somebody who can at least -make a guess as to whether this thing can be disturbed."</p> - -<p>He said he would confer with General Somebody.</p> - -<p>"When does the Emperor arrive?" I asked him. He was sorry, but he -was not at liberty to discuss the Emperor's movements. I slammed the -receiver down.</p> - -<p>"Brion," Barbro called. "Look what's here."</p> - -<p>I went to the door which opened onto the next room. A two-man shuttle -filled the space. Its door stood open. I looked inside. It was fitted -out in luxury; Bale provided well for himself even for short trips. -This was what he used to travel from the home line to B-I Two. And the -fact that it was here should indicate that Bale was here also; and that -he would return to it before the bomb went off.</p> - -<p>But then again, perhaps the bomb was even now ticking away its last -seconds, and Bale might be far away, safe from the blast. If the latter -were true, there was nothing I could do about it; but if he did plan to -return here, arm the bomb, set a timer and leave via the shuttle in the -bedroom—then maybe I could stop him.</p> - -<p>"Barbro," I said, "you've got to find Manfred or Hermann. I'm going to -stay here and wait for Bale to come back. If you find them, tell them -to get men here fast who can make a try at disarming this thing. I -don't dare move it, and it will take at least two to handle it. If we -can move it, we can shove it in the shuttle and send it off; I'll keep -phoning. I don't know where you should look but do your best."</p> - -<p>Barbro looked at me. "I would rather stay here with you, Brion," she -said. "But I understand that I must not."</p> - -<p>"You're quite a girl, Barbro," I said.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph1">Chapter 15</p> - - -<p>I was alone now, except for the ominous sphere behind the screen. I -hoped for a caller, though. I went to the door which leaned aslant -against the rough brick wall outside and unlatched it, maneuvered it -into place and dropped the pins back in the hinges, then closed and -relatched it.</p> - -<p>I went back to the over-stuffed room, started looking through drawers, -riffling through papers on the desk. I hoped for something—something -that might give me a hint of what Bale planned. I didn't find any -hints, but I did find a long-barrelled twenty-two revolver, loaded. -That helped. I hadn't given much thought to what I would do when Bale -got here. I was in no condition to grapple with him; now I had a -reasonable chance.</p> - -<p>I picked out a hiding place to duck into when and if I heard him -coming, a storeroom in the hall, between the bomb and the door. I found -a small liquor cabinet and poured myself two fingers of sherry.</p> - -<p>I sat in one of the fancy chairs, and tried to let myself go limp. I -was using up too much energy in tension. My stomach was a hard knot. -I could see the edge of the bomb behind its screen from where I sat. -I wondered if there would be any warning before it detonated. My ears -were cocked for a click or a rumble from the silent grey city-killer.</p> - -<p>The sound I heard was not a click; it was the scrape of shoes on wood, -beyond the door. I sat paralyzed for a moment, then got to my feet, -stepped to the storeroom and eased behind the door. I loosened the -revolver in my pocket and waited.</p> - -<p>The sounds were closer now, gratingly loud in the dead silence. Then -a key scraped in the lock, and a moment later the tall thin figure of -Chief Inspector Bale, traitor, shuffled into view. His small bald head -was drawn down between his shoulders, and he looked around the room -almost furtively. He pulled off his coat, and for one startled instant -I thought he would come to my storeroom to hang it up; but he threw it -over the back of a chair.</p> - -<p>He went to the screen, peered at the bomb. I could easily have shot -him, but that wouldn't have helped me. I wanted Bale to let me know -whether the bomb was armed, if it could be moved. He was the only man -in the Imperium who knew how to handle this device.</p> - -<p>He leaned over the bomb, took a small box from his pocket and stared at -it. He looked at his watch, went to the phone. I could barely hear his -mutter as he exchanged a few words with someone. He went into the next -room, and as I was about to follow to prevent his using the shuttle, he -came back. He looked at his watch again, sat in a chair, and opened a -small tool kit which lay on the table. He started to work on the metal -box with a slender screwdriver. This, then, was the arming device. I -tried not to breathe too loud, or to think about how my legs ached.</p> - -<p>Shocking in the stillness, the phone rang. Bale looked up, startled, -laid the screwdriver and the box on the table, and went over to the -phone. He looked down at it, chewing his lip. After five rings it -stopped. I wondered who it was.</p> - -<p>Bale went back to his work. Now he was replacing the cover on the box, -frowning over the job. He got up, went to the bomb, licked his lips and -leaned over it. He was ready now to arm the bomb. I couldn't wait any -longer.</p> - -<p>I pushed the door open, and Bale leaped upright, grabbing for his -chest, then jumped for the coat on the chair.</p> - -<p>"Stand where you are, Bale," I said. "I'd get a real kick out of -shooting you."</p> - -<p>Bale's eyes were almost popping from his head, his head was tilted -back, his mouth opened and closed. I got the impression that I had -startled him.</p> - -<p>"Sit down," I said. "There." I motioned with the pistol as I came out -into the room.</p> - -<p>"Bayard," Bale said hoarsely. I didn't say anything. I felt sure -now that the bomb was safe. All I had to do was wait until the crew -arrived, and turn Bale over to them. Then we could carry the bomb to -the shuttle, and send it off into the Blight. But I was feeling very -bad now.</p> - -<p>I went to a chair, and sank down. I tried not to let Bale see how weak -I was. I leaned back, and tried breathing deep through my nose again. -If I started to pass out I would have to shoot Bale; he couldn't be -left free to threaten the Imperium again.</p> - -<p>It was little better now. Bale stood rigid, staring at me.</p> - -<p>"Look, Bayard," he said. "I'll bring you in on this with me. I swear -I'll give you a full half share. I'll let you keep B-I Two as your -own, and I shall take the home line; there's plenty for all. Just put -that gun aside...." He licked his lips, started towards me.</p> - -<p>I started to motion with the gun, squeezed the trigger instead. A -bullet slapped Bale's shirt sleeve, smacked the wall. He dropped down -into the chair behind him. That was close, I thought. That could have -killed him. I've got to hold on.</p> - -<p>I might as well impress him a little, I thought. "I know how to use -this pop gun, you see," I said. "Just a quarter of an inch from the -arm, firing from the hip; not bad, don't you agree? Don't try anything -else."</p> - -<p>"You've got to listen to me, Bayard," Bale said. "Why should you care -what happens to these popinjays? We can rule as absolute monarchs."</p> - -<p>Bale went on, but I wasn't listening. I was concentrating on staying -conscious, waiting for the sounds of help arriving.</p> - -<p>"... take one moment, and we're off. What about it?"</p> - -<p>Bale was looking at me, with a look of naked greed. I didn't know what -he had been saying. He must have interpreted my silence as weakness; -he got up again, moved toward me. It was darker in the room; I rubbed -my eyes. I was feeling very bad now, very weak. My heart thumped in my -throat, my stomach quivered. I was in no shape to be trying to hold -this situation in check alone.</p> - -<p>Bale stopped, and I saw that he suddenly realized that I was blacking -out. He crouched, and with a snarl jumped at me. I would have to kill -him. I fired the pistol twice, and Bale reeled away, startled, but -still standing.</p> - -<p>"Hold on, Bayard, for the love of God," he squealed. I was still alive -enough to kill him. I raised the pistol, aimed and fired. I saw a -picture jump on the wall. Bale leaped aside. I didn't know if I had hit -him yet or not. I was losing my hold, but I wouldn't let him get away. -I fired twice more, peering from my chair, and I knew it was the light -in my mind fading, not in the room. Bale yelled; I saw that he didn't -dare to try for the door to the hall or the room where the shuttle -waited. He would have to pass me. He screamed as I aimed the pistol -with wavering hands, and dived for the other door. I fired and heard -the sound echo through a dream of blackness.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I wasn't out for more than a few minutes; I came to myself, sitting in -the chair, the pistol lying on my lap. The screen had fallen over, and -lay across the bomb. I sat up, panicky; maybe Bale had armed it. And -where was Bale? I remembered only that he had dashed for the next room. -I got up, grabbed for the chair again, then got my balance, made my way -to the door. There was a strange sound, a keening, like a cat in the -distant alley. I looked into the room, half expecting to see Bale lying -on the floor. There was nothing. The light streamed through an open -window, and a curtain flapped. Bale must have panicked and jumped, I -thought. I went to the window, and the keening started up again.</p> - -<p>Bale hung by his hands from the eave of the building across the alley, -fifteen feet away. The sound came from him. The left leg of his -trousers had a long stain of blackish red on it, and drops fell from -the toe of his shoe, five stories to the brick pavement below.</p> - -<p>"Good God, Bale," I said. "What have you done?" I was horrified. I -had been ready to shoot him down, but to see him hanging there was -something else again.</p> - -<p>"Bayard," he croaked, "I can't hold on much longer. For the love of -God...."</p> - -<p>What could I do? I was far too weak for any heroics. I looked around -the room frantically for an inspiration; I needed a plank or a piece of -rope. There was nothing. I pulled a sheet off the bed; it was far too -short. Even two or three would never make it. And I couldn't hold it -even if I could throw it and Bale caught it. I ran to the phone.</p> - -<p>"Operator," I called. "There's a man about to fall from a roof. Get the -fire department here with ladders, fast; seventy-one Östermalmsgatan, -fifth floor."</p> - -<p>I dropped the phone, ran back to the window. "Hold on, Bale," I said. -"Help's on the way." He must have tried to leap to the next roof, -thinking that I was at his heels; and with that hole in his leg he -hadn't quite made it.</p> - -<p>I thought of Bale, sending me off on a suicide mission, knowing that my -imposture was hopeless as long as I stood on my own legs; I thought of -the killer shuttle that had lain in wait to smash us as we went in; of -the operating room at the hideout, where Bale had planned to carve me -into a shape more suitable for his purpose. I remembered Bale shooting -down my new-found brother, and the night I had lain in the cold cell, -waiting for the butcher; and still I didn't want to see him die this -way.</p> - -<p>He started to scream suddenly, kicking desperately. He got one foot -up on the eave beside his white straining hands; it slipped off. Then -he was quiet again. I had been standing here now for five minutes. I -wondered how long I had been unconscious. Bale had been there longer -now than I would have thought possible. He couldn't last much longer.</p> - -<p>"Hold on, Bale," I called. "Only a little while. Don't struggle."</p> - -<p>He hung, silent. Blood dripped from his shoe. I looked down at the -alley below and shuddered.</p> - -<p>I heard a distant sound, a siren, howling. I dashed to the door, opened -it, listened. Heavy footsteps sounded below.</p> - -<p>"Here," I shouted, "all the way up."</p> - -<p>I turned and ran back to the window. Bale was as I had left him. Then -one hand slipped off, and he hung by one arm, swinging slightly.</p> - -<p>"They're here, Bale," I said. "A few seconds...."</p> - -<p>He didn't try to get a new hold. He made no sound. Feet pounded on the -stairs outside and I yelled again.</p> - -<p>I turned back to the window as Bale slipped down, silent. I didn't -watch. I heard him hit—twice.</p> - -<p>I staggered back, and the burly men called, looked out the window, -milled about. I made my way back to the chair, slumped down. I was -empty of emotion. There was a noise all around me, people coming and -going. I was hardly conscious of it. After a long time I saw Hermann, -and then Barbro was leaning over me. I reached for her hand, hungrily.</p> - -<p>"Take me home, Barbro," I said.</p> - -<p>I saw Manfred.</p> - -<p>"The bomb," I said. "It's safe. Put it in the shuttle and get rid of -it."</p> - -<p>"My crew is moving it now, Brion," he said.</p> - -<p>"You spoke of home, just now," Goering put in. "Speaking for -myself, and I am sure also for Manfred, I will make the strongest -recommendation that in view of your extraordinary services to the -Imperium you be dispatched back to your home as soon as you are well -enough to go, if that is your wish. I hope that you will stay with us. -But it must be for you to make that decision."</p> - -<p>"I don't have to decide," I said. "My choice is made. I like it here, -for many reasons. For one thing, I can use all the old cliches from -B-I Three, and they sound brand new; and as for home...." I looked at -Barbro:</p> - -<p>"Home is where the heart is."</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORLDS OF THE IMPERIUM ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. 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