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diff --git a/77510-0.txt b/77510-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..27bac74 --- /dev/null +++ b/77510-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2125 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77510 *** + + + + +The Assistant Self + +by F. L. Wallace + + + _Sympathy for others may be one of the seven cardinal virtues. But + man does not live by virtue alone, and a superabundance of any one + attribute--however admirable in itself--can lead to stark tragedy. + To appreciate fully the breadth of that tragedy you must follow in + the footsteps of F. L. Wallace as he scatters golden nuggets of + science fantasy entertainment along the frontiers of tomorrow with a + prodigality undreamed of by lesser scribes. Here is a yarn that takes + you straight into realms of abiding mystery and surmise_. + + + =It was a world of Utopian dreams and industrial strife--buffeted by + the winds of human unreason. But Hal Talbot was a man apart.= + + + + +“You always see the other person’s side,” said Laura. “Even the boss’s, +especially when he fires you.” + +She swept the compact into her purse and stood up. “Now see if you can +understand _my_ point of view.” With a withering contempt in her eyes +she swung the purse to her shoulder and walked rapidly away. + +Hal Talbot stared morosely at his drink. The worst of it was--he knew +exactly how she felt. In spite of what everyone professed to believe +empathy was a dreadful handicap. He had more than his share of it, and +he couldn’t even hold down a simple lousy job. + +He raised the glass and saw through it a man--a total +stranger--standing beside the booth in amused expectation. _The hell +with him_, Talbot thought. He drank the beer and set the glass down. + +“Do you mind if I sit here?” the stranger asked. + +Talbot looked him over carefully. He was well-dressed--too +well-dressed--and he conformed in virtually every other respect to the +popular conception of the executive, suave and so completely sure of +himself. Therefore--he probably wasn’t. + +“Suit yourself,” grunted Talbot. + +The man sat down and ordered for both of them. It was all right with +Talbot. He _could_ have paid for the drinks, but he was keenly aware +that his dwindling resources wouldn’t last long. + +“I couldn’t help overhearing the conversation,” said the man. + +“We have all our fights in public,” said Talbot, with embittered irony. +“It makes things more final.” + +The stranger stared at him steadily for an instant, his brows +contracted. Then he asked: “Are you sure this is final?” + +“You heard what she said. I can’t hold a job.” + +“That’s precisely what I mean. You seem capable enough. I’m curious as +to the reason.” + +Talbot looked at the other more intently. He was a man of much the same +general build as Talbot, but he appeared to be five or six years older. + +“I mean no offense,” said the man. He fumbled in his pocket and held +out a card. + +Talbot took it. There was a single word in bold black letters on one +side: TRANSPORTATION. The crosses on the T’s were spaceships. On the +other side was a name: EVAN SOLERI, _vice-president in charge of +research_. Talbot curled his fingers around the card. + +The man smiled. “Just call me Evan.” + +“All right, Evan. You’re going to offer me a job.” Talbot settled back +comfortably. Things were falling into the routine pattern again. + +“Perhaps. But first--do you mind telling me why you keep getting fired?” + +“I don’t mind,” said Talbot. He was used to impertinent and stupid +questions. He was used to getting jobs in odd places and to the ups and +downs that always seemed to straighten themselves out eventually. Some +day perhaps he’d find himself in a situation from which all his empathy +couldn’t rescue him. But he’d worry about that when it came. + +“You want to know why I get fired?” he asked, drawing the beer to him, +and scowling across it. “Well, I’ll tell you. I meet someone like you. +We talk, and are friendly. First thing you know he is offering me a +job. I take it. In the beginning everything’s fine. I have a knack of +knowing exactly what he wants. I get a raise practically overnight. + +“Then one day _his_ boss comes in and wants something in a hurry. So he +talks to me very earnestly about it. Before anyone realizes what has +taken place his boss is depending on me instead of on him. So what can +he do? He finds some pretext and fires me.” + +Evan Soleri nodded. “And you don’t object?” + +“I get mad, naturally,” said Talbot. “But what else _could_ he do? +He’s worked hard for the job and I come along and threaten to take it +away. The point is--I’ve got no special qualification.” + +“Except empathy.” + +“Except that,” agreed Talbot. He took a long drink and set the glass +down. “It’s funny. I get along well with people but my adjustment index +isn’t so good.” + +“I’ve been thinking about that,” said Soleri. “Do you mind showing me +your employment card?” + +“Sure--step number one,” said Talbot. “When do I start?” He handed over +the card, and waved to the waiter for refills in the same motion. + +Soleri frowned at the card. “I notice you haven’t been tested in seven +years. Why haven’t you gone back for re-evaluation?” + +“It costs money,” Talbot replied. “Anyway, aptitudes don’t change much +after twenty-four.” + +“That’s usually true,” said Soleri, returning the card. + +“When do I start?” said Talbot. “To save trouble shall I have them make +out the termination notice at the same time? They can safely date it +two months in advance. I usually last that long.” + +“You may be surprised.” Soleri smiled. “I’ve a feeling you can work +well at the top. You’ve been starting too low.” + +Talbot studied the executive. Curiously enough, he had the same +feeling--if he ever got to the top. It was hard to do on ability alone. +He never lasted long enough for anyone to find out how good he was. +“What sort of work am I supposed to do?” he asked. + +“Interested?” said Soleri. “Have you heard of the perfect rocket motor?” + +“I’ve heard of it. Everybody has.” Talbot disposed of the beer. “It’s +out of my line, though. I’m strictly business administration.” + +“Don’t prejudge what I have in mind,” said Soleri. “Have you also heard +of Fred Frescura?” + +“The heat scientist?” + +“That’s right. The _foremost_ heat and rocket scientist.” Soleri moved +the glass aside. “As you know, present rockets are pretty poor. They +take us around the solar system, but that’s all. And they don’t do that +very well. Anyway, there’s mathematical proof that the theoretically +perfect rocket motor can be built. We’ve been working on it for the +past six years.” + +“Why come to me?” said Talbot. “I can’t help.” + +“Don’t be so sure. We want your empathy.” + +“You can have it,” said Talbot. “Look. One point five on the card, +maybe actually one point four by now. It levels off. You know the +standard curve as well as I do.” + +“The standard curve doesn’t always fit. That’s what I want to discuss.” + +Talbot might have stayed to talk it over, but he caught a strong surge +of panic from the executive. Panic or trouble--or both. He didn’t want +either. He had quite enough of his own. It wasn’t every day he lost +his job and his girl walked out on him. + +“I don’t feel in the mood for hashing this over,” he affirmed. “You’re +expecting a woman anyway.” + +Soleri smiled quizzically. “See? I told you that you’re underestimating +the strength of your empathy.” + +“Nothing to it. You were looking at every pair of legs that came by.” + +“I don’t think it was that easy. Why don’t you wait? Randy will be here +any minute.” + +Talbot shook his head. “There’s no telling what Laura will do when she +wanders out like this. She won’t go home, that’s for sure.” + +“I wish you’d reconsider.” + +“You can’t get a test tonight,” argued Talbot. “And a test is the only +thing that will give us real information. I know what you’re going to +suggest--that I come in tomorrow morning. Fine. So I’ll do it--tomorrow +morning.” + +Again Soleri smiled. “I said that you were my man. Now I’m sure of it. +Will you come in early, at seven thirty, say?” + +Talbot could feel the other’s panic diminish. Maybe he was even better +than he thought--if he could produce that effect just by agreeing. +“Seven thirty is pretty early,” he said. + +“There’s a reason for it,” Soleri assured him. + +“I bet.” + +Soleri took out a card and scribbled some careful directions on it. +“Here,” he said. “Come in this way. Just walk right in. There won’t be +anyone there at that hour of the morning except me.” + +“Sure.” Talbot stuffed the card in his pocket and wandered over to the +screen booth. He had trouble getting the connection, but when he did +her father answered. + +He had been correct in his assumption. He came out of the booth and +stood for an instant at the bar, gulping down a drink. His head +turned to follow the progress of a woman who had just entered the +cafe. She had deep brown eyes and blonde hair, and a great deal more. +That helped. She was not only pretty--she was spectacular. He liked +spectacular women. + +She went on by, and stopped at the booth occupied by Soleri. Quite +obviously she was Randy. For a moment he regretted his decision to +go in search of Laura. But only for a moment. Common sense told him +he wouldn’t have a chance of taking a woman like that away from a +vice-president of TRANSPORTATION. The company just happened to be the +largest in existence. + +Still, it felt good to have a man of Soleri’s importance seek him +out. He rolled the thought around in his mind. It was unquestionably +true. Soleri had come looking for him. He knew it the way he knew so +many things--without thinking, by feeling alone, by the ability to put +himself in another’s place. + +By the time the thought had come full circle in his mind Randy and +Soleri were gone. It was Laura now--or nothing. + +He went in search of her. She was not in any of the bars she usually +frequented. She was nowhere. There could be no doubt that she was mad +at him this time, and would be for weeks--even when she learned what he +had coming up. She wanted to get married and was furious with him for +daring to put her off. + +It took him quite a while to become absolutely convinced he wasn’t +going to find her on what remained of his time, money, and drinking +capacity. He started home and Laura slipped out of his mind. + +It certainly wasn’t accidental--his meeting with Soleri. Soleri had +been looking for him. But why? How had he known where to look? Talbot +couldn’t concentrate solidly on the problem. It was all he could do to +figure out where the street was going to sway to next. + +One thing was certain. He’d have a lot of questions to ask Soleri in +the morning. + + + + + II + + +Talbot dressed numbly. It was early, damned early, and his head +throbbed. Aside from the physical discomfort involved he didn’t mind a +hangover. He was more sensitive when he hung one on. + +He was going to need that sensitivity when he talked to Soleri. + +The man had a pretty phenomenal empathy index himself--say about 0.95. +The more he thought about it the more certain he became that it must +be at least 0.95. The executive had displayed uncanny acumen the night +before. + +Talbot swung a rack out of the closet and automatically selected +a light conservative suit. Soleri would expect him to dress +conservatively. He didn’t care what Soleri thought, but it was a matter +of pride with him to fit neatly into any situation. + +He dialed a cup of coffee, and then on second thought changed it to two +cups, and gulped both of them. He studied his reflection in the mirror. +It would do. He was the perfect picture of the successful executive. +All he lacked was success. + +He resisted the impulse to phone Laura. He was convinced she wouldn’t +answer at seven in the morning. Probably she wouldn’t answer later in +the day. Maybe in a week he’d call her _after_ he got the job with +TRANSPORTATION. + +He went down and hailed an aircab which took him to the far side +of the city. He alighted and read for the third or fourth time the +instructions Soleri had written on the card. He located the entrance +without difficulty and went in. Normally, he supposed, there would be a +receptionist in the lobby. He didn’t see one. It was not important, for +Soleri had cleared the way for him. + +He ascended three flights of stairs, walked around a turn at the +corridor, and there he was--in front of Soleri’s office. It would be +just his luck to find that he had arrived too early. But there was +definitely someone in the office. He conquered his trepidation and went +in. + +Soleri smiled and came toward him from behind the desk. His hand was +extended and he was laughing. It was friendly laughter, and Talbot +could sense the friendliness. But he was unemployed, and for that +reason he resented it. + +“My God,” said Soleri. “If we looked anything alike we’d be twins.” + +Talbot stared intently, reviewing and adding to his original +impressions of the other. They were within an inch and a pound of each +other. Moreover they now wore identical suits and identical shoes and +if there was a difference in their ties and shirts, it would have taken +an expert to detect it. Talk about empathy! Soleri really had it. + +But actually they didn’t resemble each other at all. Soleri’s hair was +black, and Talbot’s was brown. Soleri’s eyes were dark, Talbot’s gray. +Viewed from the back with a hat on they were indistinguishable. But +face to face no one could have mistaken one for the other. + +“It’s an impressive trick,” Soleri chuckled. “If you’re trying to +convince me you’re good--relax. I believe it.” + +“I’m not trying to convince you of anything,” said Talbot. + +Soleri looked at him keenly. “You probably aren’t,” he said. “It ties +in.” + +Talbot blinked. “Are you saying it’s _my_ empathy? One point four or +five isn’t _that_ good. Your own index must be zero point ninety-five.” + +“How did you know?” said Soleri. “I never told you.” + +“Why--” began Talbot, and stopped. How _had_, he known? It was one +thing to think you knew, quite another to be always right. Something +was startlingly out of place. + +Empathy measurements started in adolescence. Before then the body was +in a state of flux. It was still building, exploring. It did not have +the experience on which to base valid opinions. + +The adolescent was primarily aware of himself. He scarcely knew why +he thought and felt the way he did, and had no time to encompass the +emotions of others. But as he matured and some of his own problems +became settled, an increasing awareness grew in him. He became better +able to anticipate and participate in the feelings of others. Not +merely to react to them, but to feel them as if they were his own. + +After adolescence the ability to identify with others continued to +increase--rapidly at first, and then more slowly. Plotted out as age +against understanding, the curve resembled an hyperbola reaching for +the asymptote. + +Soleri smiled. “I see you’ve figured it out for yourself. We don’t +think you’re usual either. A test will decide the matter.” + +“The test can come later. Who’s ‘we’?” + +“Myself and Randy, my secretary.” + +Inwardly Talbot sighed. He could hardly blame the guy. With a secretary +like that he couldn’t picture himself spending much time in an office +either. Evidently Soleri and Randy didn’t. No doubt Soleri would claim +that last night’s meeting had come under the heading of business as +usual. + +“Another thing,” he said. “How did you know I’d be at that bar?” + +Soleri shook his head in humorous resignation. “You don’t let much get +by you. To be wholly frank, that’s why we want you. Well, if you must +know, we called your apartment several times in the last few days. You +were never home. So we put plant protection on you. It’s outside their +normal jurisdiction, but they learned your habits quickly enough.” + +“I don’t like to be snooped at,” protested Talbot. “I don’t even know +how you got my name.” + +“That one’s easy,” said Soleri. “Several years ago you filed an +application with us. I looked it over recently. I’m a mathematician--an +amateur but fairly good. I decided that if you’d put down the various +empathy measurements correctly you might be better than you thought. +Over a short portion of the curve, you know, a cubic or another +equation can resemble an hyperbola. After Randy gets here we’ll see.” + +Talbot nodded. He could accept that. It helped to explain why he’d had +so much trouble. People resented his competition. The thought gave him +confidence, and he reached out easily for the next conclusion. + +“But you’re not being altruistic about this,” he said. “I may have an +index of zero point nine, better than yours, way at the top of the +executive class. But for all you know I may have no knowledge, no +subject matter in my head.” He paused to formulate the thought clearly. +“You want me for something else. Specifically you’re in trouble.” + +“We may not need that test. But we’ll take it anyway,” said Soleri. +“Yes, it’s trouble. Do you want to see if you can tell me what it is?” + +Talbot didn’t so much think as contact Soleri’s personality. He knew +that atomic energy was advanced and with it almost any degree of +temperature could be attained. And the hotter the exhaust, every other +factor being equal, the faster the rocket. He allowed the thought to +float closer. + +“The technical problem is liners,” he said. “You’ve got to have +something that won’t be melted or eroded by the exhaust.” + +“True,” said Soleri. “Metal or ceramics won’t do--not at the +temperatures we’re working with. We have made certain mathematical +investigations which indicate there _is_ a solution. Metal plus +certain energy states might turn the trick. + +“We can discuss techniques later. It’s sufficient for now that we’ve +narrowed it down to a matter of trial and error. The rest should be +easy enough: a million or so experiments and we’ll have it. We’ve hired +the best brains in the field, and you can be sure we haven’t spared +time or money. Only we aren’t making progress. The perfect rocket motor +should drive us at--or near--the speed of light. We’re nowhere near +that.” + + * * * * * + +Talbot leaned on the desk. “Competition?” he asked thoughtfully. + +Soleri smiled painfully. “Perhaps. We’re big, but we’re not the only +company after the motor. The difficulty arises from the fact that +there’s nothing definite we can point to as wrong. If there was, plant +protection would find the person or persons responsible and put an end +to the obstruction in short order. What happens is simply this. Costly +experiments have one insignificant detail wrong, and blow up or fail to +function at all. Elaborate computations have one decimal point moved +and it takes a month to locate the impediment. Who’s behind it? What +official or worker is out to sabotage us? That’s what we’re trying to +discover.” + +“Did it ever occur to you that the perfect rocket motor may be an +illusion? Perhaps it can’t be built.” + +“We have Frescura to say otherwise. Rocket construction is his life’s +work. Other experts in the field agree with him--though they are not +always able to follow his theoretical explanations.” + +“I won’t argue with them,” said Talbot. He glanced uneasily at the door +of the office. A breeze was blowing it open slightly. “I see now why +you wanted me to come so early. It was to make sure I wouldn’t be seen?” + +“Right,” Soleri said. “I wanted to explain the situation and have you +leave before the regular shift gets here. I’ll make arrangements for +the test to be given outside the plant. When you come back you’ll +be hired through regular channels. That way there’ll be no apparent +connection with me. You’ll simply be given a position in the shop. It +will be high enough to enable you to meet everyone, but it won’t be so +top-level that you’ll be prevented from mingling freely.” + +“I’m not sure I’m interested,” said Talbot. “If I’m as good as you +think I am--why should I take a job like that?” + +“It’s temporary, don’t you see? With your degree of empathy you can +track down the trouble without arousing suspicion. After that we’ll +put you where you belong. And your salary will be scaled to your test +rating from the beginning, regardless of your workshop status. How does +that sound to you?” + +“Forthright,” said Talbot. “And quite generous.” He didn’t like to +snoop any better than he liked being snooped at. But he’d listen. + +“Randy’s due any moment,” said Soleri. “Let’s see that employment card +again.” + +Talbot reached for his wallet. The container the card was in didn’t +detach easily. He opened it, and handed the wallet to Soleri. + +Soleri examined the card with interest. He made a rough sketch of it +on paper, plotting the points of the series of tests and joining them +with a free-hand curve. He was so intent on the task that he failed to +notice that the office door had opened the width of a man’s hand. + +Talbot wouldn’t have noticed either, had he not turned at that precise +instant to get a better view of the sketch and seen the hand in the +crack. The hand threw a small dark object on the floor, then whipped +back quickly. The door closed. + +Talbot’s reactions were good but not good enough. He jogged Soleri’s +elbow. “What’s that?” he said uneasily, indicating the object. + +It was round and dark, hard to distinguish on the floor. It took Soleri +a second to see it--a second too long. “Get down,” he shouted, shoving +Talbot behind the desk. + +The action threw Soleri offbalance and he fell the wrong way. He +scrambled frantically for the protection of the desk but only his hand +with the wallet still in it reached the merciful shadow. + +A chaotic sound echoed somewhere near Talbot. He’d never heard +anything like it. He didn’t have time to wonder where it came from +because it was followed by another louder sound. + +Instinctively he closed his eyes as an incandescent sheet of flame +whipped across the room. It was accompanied by a vast thermal +concussion which blotted out all sound. Take a tiny piece of the +interior of the Sun--not the center, but somewhere between that and +the visible outer portion--and wrap it with unimaginable insulation. +Transport it to an office and strip away the covering in a microsecond. +Within a limited area the explosion was even more frightful than that. + +At first the desk shielded Talbot. In the intolerable light paint +and pictures were burned from the wall. Chairs disappeared and the +fireproof floor bubbled and vaporized. By the time the thick steel and +thermoplastic desk collapsed in ashes around Talbot’s body the tiny +speck of matter had dissipated most of its energy and there was only +fire to fear. + +Clouds of steam came from the ceiling as the sprinkler system went into +action. It didn’t function well because most of it had been melted away +in the first blast. Nevertheless water gushed out and turned to steam. + +Talbot struggled to get out. But he was badly burned. Steam and smoke +were searing his lungs, and a section of the ceiling had peeled off and +fallen on his legs, pinning him to the floor. He saw a hand, all that +was left of Soleri, clutching the wallet. And then he couldn’t breathe, +couldn’t see or feel anything at all. + + + + + III + + +A dim, slender figure swirled dizzily in front of him. He hoped she +was a nurse, but he could only see the flowing whiteness of her as she +moved to the door. “You can come in, Miss Farrell,” she said. + +Miss Farrell came in. She was better known to Talbot as Randy, and +close up she was even more breathtaking than when he had first seen +her. His vision was steadying a little now. + +“Just a few minutes--not longer,” the nurse cautioned. + +Randy sat down beside him, touching his face lightly. He could feel +the gentle pressure of her fingers through the bandages. “Don’t try to +talk,” she said. “I’ll say everything that has to be said. And it won’t +take long.” + +He blinked in grateful understanding. It wasn’t a wholly satisfactory +form of communication, but her nearness soothed him. + +“We haven’t found out how that thermal capsule got there,” she said. +“We know it was hot, however. It had a temperature of at least a half +million degrees, despite its extreme smallness. After you get well +enough to talk freely we’ll try to reconstruct what happened.” + +He nodded slightly, and the effort sent a wave of pain coursing through +him. + +“So much for that,” she said. “You’ll get well. There won’t even be +scars. You’re lucky. Did you know it?” + +He knew it. But he knew also that it wasn’t _only_ luck. Soleri had +saved his life at the expense of his own. + +Then she said an incredible thing. “All we found of the other poor +devil was his lower arm. The card was still clutched in his hand. It +was scorched but not burned. I gave it to one of our mathematicians and +he has worked out two curves that might fit. The man was everything you +said he was--and more. I wish he’d lived.” + +Talbot closed his eyes in stunned protest. She was making a mistake, a +crazy utterly incomprehensible mistake. He tried to tell her--but there +was only a gurgle in his throat. + +“Don’t bat your eyes at me,” she said in mock reproof. “It’s true. The +lowest empathy index registered is zero point eight. Right? Well, this +man was zero point five. The mathematician couldn’t be sure, but he +_thought_ it might be even lower.” + +She brushed the hair away from her lovely eyes. “Perhaps I should have +kept it to myself. No one could possibly have the index the curve +indicated. There are limits to human credulity.” + +Again he tried to tell her that it was Soleri who had died. Soleri! +But the bandages were too tight and his weakness too overwhelming. + +But how could she have made such a mistake? True, he’d been wearing +the same clothing as Soleri and the dead man had been clutching his +employment card. But a woman who had been close to Soleri, who had seen +him every day, would surely know-- + +She leaned over, brushing her lips against his eyes. “Don’t worry,” she +said. “I disposed of the remains--and put him on the payroll. Roving +assignment, reporting only to you. After six months we can arrange to +make it appear that he was killed in an accident.” + +His eyes! She’d known Soleri well enough to remember that the dead +man’s eyes were dark, not gray. Women were never in error about things +like that. He blinked frantically, but she failed to draw the correct +conclusion. + +“Why six months?” she smiled. “Because I have the company’s interest +at heart. Otherwise we’d have to pay the full death benefit. If he’s +on the payroll after six months the insurance company must assume the +responsibility. His salary will be much less than the death benefit. +He’s dead. Nothing we can do will bring him back. We may as well save +some money.” + +The logic was acceptable, but she had the wrong man. He groaned in +frustration and the sound escaped as a muffled protest from his +tortured and burned throat. + +Instantly the nurse reappeared. + +“That’s all, Miss Farrell. He’ll rest better for knowing what happened. +But I think you’ve told him enough.” + +Randy bent over. “Everything’s all right,” she whispered. “Get well.” + +And then the nurse found an unbandaged region on his right shoulder and +jabbed him. He ceased to feel or hear anything. + +It was that way for the next few days, a dim and shadowy routine which +he was vaguely and occasionally aware of. From time to time he felt +stronger but the nurse had a needle ready and always used it. They +intended to make certain that he did not prematurely exert himself. + +Finally a day came when the nurse wasn’t there. It had apparently been +decided that he was ready to rejoin the living. He lay motionless on +the bed, staring down at his folded arms. His right hand was bandaged; +his left was not. He raised both hands to his face. The bandages were +fewer, lighter than before. + +Sooner or later, he told himself, the bandages would have to come +off. Then what? Then the truth would be known to everyone. Still, he +wasn’t in an enviable position. He had gone at such an early hour to +Soleri’s office that no one had seen him. He had only Soleri’s word as +to his honesty of purpose--and Soleri was dead. Randy had made things +worse with her silly attempt to hush things up. He was in a serious +mess--and had no way of knowing what was going to come out of it. + +He got up shakily. He had made up his mind. He must leave the hospital. +He knew it was foolish, but that didn’t stop him. He swung his legs +over the side of the bed and found to his relief that he could stand. +He teetered precariously for an instant and then stood upright. + +There was a closet on the opposite side of the room. He wobbled toward +it, wrenched the door open. It contained a robe but no clothes. As he +braced himself in the doorway he caught sight of his face in the mirror +on the back of the door. His brow was gleaming with perspiration and +his eyes glittered darkly in the expanse of white. The bandages would +have to come off. + +It was painful but not as bad as he had thought it might be. He found +an edge and pried at the masklike plaster. The bandages came off in one +piece. His raw skin burned as air came in contact with it. It stung and +burned, but he scarcely noticed the pain. + +He stared at his reflection. + +Now he knew what Randy had refused to tell him because she didn’t +believe it herself. The empathy index of the man she supposed dead was +not zero point five. It was much less than that. + +It was zero. + +And zero was identity. + +The face looking back at him was not that of Hal Talbot. It was Evan +Soleri. It was Evan Soleri even to the dark eyes and the stubble of +black hair that was beginning to grow in on his burned scalp. + +Talbot or Soleri, he went back to bed. + +He lay very still. His mind raced back, to the scene in the office. He +had _thought_ there were two sounds, the strange one slightly before +the thermal explosion. But the first had not been a sound at all. He +knew that now. It was Evan Soleri’s mental reaction to the approach +of death. No one else could have heard it--no one except a man whose +empathy index was zero. It was the crisis that had brought out his +latent ability. He had responded by recreating himself as the identity +of a person a microsecond removed from extinction. + +He had done this successfully--but what came next? + +He had been thinking of escape. It was no longer possible. As far as +his immediate future was concerned he _was_ Evan Soleri. He might be +able to prove otherwise. But it could be a dangerous undertaking. They +might think he’d had his face surgically altered with the deliberate, +prior intention of replacing Soleri. + +Besides--well, he had liked Soleri. Without a second’s thought Soleri +had given his life for a man he hardly knew. Quite possibly the person +who had tossed in the thermal bomb had meant to kill Talbot. But he +owed the unknown assassin something for that too. + +His face hardened. In his new identity as Soleri he was in the +best possible position to track down the assailant. Soleri had been +powerful, wealthy, the head of the research department. The place to +begin was right here, where it had started. He’d be Soleri. + +Talbot-Soleri rang for the nurse. He’d been inactive long enough. He +had no very definite plans, but he’d take care of things as they came +up. The nurse came in. She stared at him in consternation. + +“You are not supposed to sit up,” she said. “And you must have been mad +to take those bandages off. Here, I’ll put them back.” + +He scowled at her, and she didn’t come near. “Get Miss Farrell,” he +said. “Tell her I must see her at once.” + +“The doctor gave strict orders that you’re not to be disturbed,” said +the nurse hesitantly. She paled as he returned her stare, for there was +a dangerous light in his eyes. + +“Get her,” he demanded. + +When Randy entered the room there was a moment of complete silence. She +seemed stunned by his aspect of well-being. + +“The miracle of medicine,” he said dryly. “Randy, I want to look over +the personnel records of everyone in the department. Please get them +and bring them to me here.” + +“Everything?” She looked at him in amazement. “You went over the +technical staff last week.” + +“It doesn’t matter,” he told her. “I’ve got some ideas I want to tie +down.” That was true, of course, but mostly he wanted to make sure he +wouldn’t slip up on anyone he was supposed to recognize. He’d get by +anyway, naturally. He could always claim a slight loss of memory due to +shock. But such a claim wouldn’t inspire confidence--and he didn’t want +anyone to become suspicious. + +“While you’re at it bring the office staff too,” he added. There was +one person he’d have to know as much about as possible. Much of it +wouldn’t be in any file. But he’d worry about the intangibles later. + +Randy plainly thought his request was foolish, but she complied. Soon +files were wheeled to his bedside. That was the nice thing about being +a big wheel in a big company, and no pun intended. Everything was +handy. Even the hospital was inside the plant. + +But there were also disadvantages. The company was so big that +there was a lot to learn. Still, he had to begin somewhere. Randy +undoubtedly thought some of his requests were strange, but she brought +what he asked for. Though not eidetic, his memory was good. He began +industriously to absorb the information. Names, faces, facts and +diagrams settled firmly in his mind. + +It was a lengthy, painful process. Sometimes he became confused as to +his actual identity. Was he Talbot or Soleri? The thought occurred to +him that he might never be able to step out of the character he had +consciously as well as unconsciously assumed. + +There was no data on what might happen to him. None at all. + + + + + IV + + +On the day of his discharge his skin was still tender but the burns had +healed. He felt weak but that was not surprising in view of the number +of days he had spent in bed. The department managed without him and +when difficulties developed he relayed brief orders through Randy. She +was his buffer. He didn’t want to take part in running the plant until +he had more insight on Soleri. + +He learned many things, but there were technicalities to be mastered +which he was sure he could pick up faster on the outside. The doctor +wanted to send a nurse with him but he refused, finally consenting to +have Randy accompany him. Perhaps he was taking a needless risk. But he +was convinced he could handle Randy. + +It was dark when they left the factory hospital, and took the +elevator to the roof. He leaned on Randy somewhat more than he had +to. It was a pleasure and a distraction. But he remained on his guard +notwithstanding. + +Randy was not a secretary at all. The files had revealed that much. +Soleri had been so anxious to find out what was holding up the project +that he had hired a first-rate psychologist and had put her in a +position where she could work without being suspected. The psychologist +was Randy. She wouldn’t fool easy. And that, in a sense, was a +challenge. If he could get by her he could convince anyone. + +An aircab was waiting. He leaned very close to her as she helped him +in. He was almost sure that his empathy should tell him something and +it did. Her eyes darkened, and she became obviously disturbed by his +nearness. He settled back in the cab and waited. + +The driver turned about, and asked: “Where to?” + +He pretended not to hear. The driver repeated the question and Randy +gave him the address. The information itself didn’t tell him much but +his sensitivity filled in the missing details. She had been to the +apartment many times, and stayed late. + +They didn’t talk much on the way. The cab flitted over the city +lights with a steady droning. He became uneasy. She too was sensing a +strangeness in him. He regretted his decision to have her accompany +him, and resolved to send her home as soon as he could reasonably do so. + +They landed on the roof of a tall apartment building. She paid the +driver and told him not to wait. No chance for subtlety there. + +“I’m quite all right,” he said as she helped him out. “It was just a +momentary touch of dizziness.” + +“I know,” she said. “But you’re not going to get away. I intend to +make sure you’re all right.” And that was that. + +Soleri’s apartment was on the twentieth floor. It was elaborate and +large, and furnished with exquisite taste. He approved of Soleri’s +taste--in more than one respect. He sat down and looked it over. + +“Glad to be back?” she asked. + +He nodded. + +“Sit and rest. I’ll punch dinner. Anything special?” + +“Nothing special. Whatever you want.” She touched his arm as she went +into the kitchen. He wished she hadn’t. He had enough to contend with +without that. + +Presently she came back. “We’ll have something light and nourishing in +a few minutes,” she said. + +She went to the recording system and began examining the calls that had +come in during Soleri’s absence. He had to remind himself that it was +an absence. Officially Soleri hadn’t died. + +He watched her intently. He wished her eyes weren’t brown and wonderful. + +“Anything important?” he said with an effort. + +“A message from Andrew Taft. I told him you were hurt but not badly. He +wants you to visit him next week.” + +Andrew Taft was president of TRANSPORTATION. Everyone knew that. +But there wasn’t anything in the files to give him a lead as to the +duration or extent of their friendship. Perhaps Soleri had known Taft +from boyhood. He didn’t want to put his newly acquired personality to +such a severe test before he could be more certain of the facts. + +“Make an excuse for me,” he said. + +She looked at him inquiringly. “Do you think you should? Eleanor will +be there. She heard about the accident and is coming in from Mars.” + +He might have known there would be some such complication. Soleri was a +powerful and attractive man and there had been more than one woman in +his life. It was another unexpected pitfall, a further challenge to his +wariness. He grimaced. “Eleanor’s a nice girl but she means nothing to +me,” he said. + +“Oh?” Randy’s lips tightened. “Is that why you’re going to marry her?” + + * * * * * + +At the moment he hated Soleri, empathy or not. If it had been at all +possible he would have dropped the pretense. But he couldn’t--and he +had to depend solely on his abnormal sensitivity. He told Randy what +she _wanted_ to hear. + +“You know how it is,” he said blandly. “I’ve got to get that motor +built. It’s costing far more than we expected. Somebody’s got to play +company politics.” + +She seemed a trifle mollified. “You needn’t tell me. I’ve had a +thorough grounding in business psychology.” She moved quickly past him. +“Dinner’s ready,” she said. “You’ve got to build up your strength--for +company politics.” + +He would have preferred silence but Randy insisted on holding up both +ends of the conversation. Nothing important was discussed, but it gave +him a chance to break down her defenses, and get to know her better. + +After dinner they sat over a drink, and talked. Much of his empathy was +tied up in the difficult task of simply duplicating Soleri. He couldn’t +get through to her with the accuracy he would have liked. But he did +succeed in turning the conversation from Eleanor. She was willing. +After the first flash of hatred she was completely willing to forget +the girl existed. + +She looked at the clock. “Time for bed,” she said. + +It was awkward. He started to get up, avoiding her eyes. “I guess so,” +he said, letting her assist him, thrilled by her nearness. + +There was nothing else he could do. She was attractive and he wanted +her for himself. But she was desperately and unhappily in love with +Soleri. He couldn’t let her know. + +“Randy,” he whispered softly as she clung to him. Laura seemed suddenly +unreal and very far away, and he wished he’d never heard of Eleanor. + +Later he awakened to find her lying beside him, tense and still. She +hadn’t been sleeping. In a surge of apprehension he wondered if she had +discovered the truth about him. + +“Is anything the matter?” he asked. + +“Nothing.” + +“Nothing? Is that why you’re not sleeping?” + +“Well, there is. I was thinking,” she said. “It was what I saw when I +ran into the office right after the explosion. The smoke was very thick +and you were lying behind what was left of the desk. For an instant I +wondered which one of you had died.” + +“How could you tell?” he said. “I was badly burned. My face--” + +“Your eyes are brown,” she said. “Brown. Anyway I knew. You _couldn’t_ +die.” + +“Try to forget about it,” he said. “That nightmare is over. I’m alive.” + +“And so is Eleanor.” + +He sighed, wishing again that he could tell her everything. But Soleri +would never deny the romance-shattering reality that stood between +them. “You’ve always known about her.” + +“So I have.” She moved closer to him. “I’m content with this brief +dream of happiness.” + +That was better. He caressed her lightly, tenderly. “It’s all right,” +he said soothingly. “Nothing has changed between us.” + +“I know, darling,” she murmured. He thought he heard her laugh before +she went to sleep. + +At last he fell asleep. + + + + + V + + +For the next few days Talbot was feverishly busy. Just what inner +drives had dominated Soleri and how would he have reacted to any given +situation? What had been his precise relationships with the people +Talbot would be meeting daily? Fortunately there was an accumulation +of recorded calls and messages. He played and re-played them. He +subscribed to a clipping service and pieced together a fairly complete +account of Soleri’s social activities. + + * * * * * + +There were other rewarding sources. He scanned minutes of +TRANSPORTATION meetings. He examined financial statements to give +himself another sidelight on the life he had usurped. Pictures, +letters--even the apartment--added to his growing knowledge. + +Handwriting presented no difficulty. He found Soleri’s signature, and +duplicated it on second trial. Soon he didn’t even have to try--it +became second nature to him to forge Soleri’s name on letters and +documents. Mannerisms came easily too. Ways of walking, the quick +thoughtful smile that appeared at intervals, the clothes he wore and +how he wore them---all these distinguishing characteristics he copied +with little conscious effort. He was as much Soleri as another person +could be. + +He rested and regained his strength, painstakingly sharpening himself +until he was ready. Randy appeared frequently on the call plate, +keeping him informed of what went on at the plant. But she didn’t +return to the apartment. He would have rejoiced in her presence but he +didn’t ask her. It would have meant taking a dangerous, unnecessary +risk. + +Finally he went back to work, nodding cheerfully to the receptionist in +the outer office as he turned left at the stairs. There was no trace of +damage in his private office. It had been rebuilt and refurnished and +was now exactly as he remembered it. + +Randy came in at once, cool and beautiful. “I told Frescura you’d like +to see him,” she said. “He’ll be in his lab until noon.” + +Frescura, the famous heat and rocket scientist! He’d have to handle +that interview with care. He had no way of knowing how much technical +information the man had imparted to Soleri. + +“I’ll see him but I hadn’t planned on it until later,” he said. It was +a false statement, but there was no need to take her completely into +his confidence. + +“I’m sorry,” she said with feigned meekness. “I was trying to +anticipate.” + +He knew that she was actively hating him for Eleanor. He’d have to find +some way to ease the tension. But at the moment other problems loomed +more urgently. He became expediently stern. + +“Forget the secretarial pose,” he growled. “You’re a psychologist. +Your job is to find out who is resorting to deliberate sabotage in the +plant. What does plant protection say about the thermal bomb?” + +She met his gaze candidly. “Nothing. Anyone at all might have had +access to the hall.” + +“Then we’ll have to work at it from the other end,” he said. + +She laid a sheaf of papers on his desk. He knew they were documents +of no great importance. “Shall I tell Frescura you won’t be out?” she +asked. + +“I’ll see him,” he said. + +She looked at him oddly, and turned to go. + +“Randy.” + +“Yes?” + +He didn’t know exactly what to say, so he tried it out for sound. “I +still want to find out why we’re not getting the motor. But it’s more +than simple sabotage now. A man was killed--a man I regarded as a +friend, even though I didn’t know him well. We’ve got to find out who +is responsible. That comes first. Do you understand?” + +Her wonderful brown eyes regarded him steadily. She turned away. “I +understand,” she said. + +“Keep it in mind,” he said. He got up and went to see Frescura. + +Fred Frescura was a big man with more hair on his face than on his +head. He was nearly bald but his eyebrows and mustache were thick and +black. He had an air of concentration and childlike enjoyment of his +work. Neither impression, decided Talbot, was strictly accurate. + +He crumpled a sheet of calculations as Talbot came in, and moved out +from behind the desk. “I’m glad to see you,” he said gruffly. “For a +while we weren’t sure whether you’d been cremated in the holocaust.” + +“It was more like an inferno,” said Talbot. “I survived.” + +“So I see,” said Frescura. “I tried to get to the hospital but Randy +wouldn’t let me in. For three days she camped in the corridor.” + +“She takes excellent care of me,” acknowledged Talbot. He glanced at +the desk and suddenly turned pale. + +Frescura laughed reassuringly. “Don’t worry. These capsules are +harmless or _I_ wouldn’t be here.” He picked up a few of the tiny +black cylinders and juggled them casually. “I was just attempting a +reconstruction. What size was the thermal capsule which you saw?” + +Talbot touched the spheres gingerly. They were jet-black and +fathomlessly unreflective. “This, I think,” he said. “Or possibly this.” + +Frescura laid five of the capsules down, rolling the other two in +his hand. “I’m afraid that doesn’t help much,” he said at last. “It +depends, you see, on how thick the covering was, and we can only guess +at that. Let’s say the temperature was over a hundred thousand degrees.” + +The temperature didn’t interest Talbot. He didn’t care by how much he’d +nearly been vaporized. “Why don’t we use capsule material like this?” +he said. “It ought to make a good tube liner.” + +Frescura’s brows seemed to thicken and grow larger. “Are you seriously +suggesting that I start my experiments from the beginning? Four years +ago I told you we couldn’t use it. Now you act as if it’s something +new.” + +Talbot got out of the dilemma hastily. He regretted that he had not +spent more time on the technical aspects. He’d tried to be thorough, +but failures were never recorded as thoroughly as triumphs. + +“It’s a thought,” he said, hoping the remark would pass for executive +stubbornness. “Maybe we overlooked something.” + +“Maybe we _didn’t_,” growled Frescura. “The thinnest skin we can +make will hold a piece of matter at a hundred thousand degrees for +ten minutes. If we make it two inches thick it will last twenty-nine +minutes and fourteen seconds. Constructed out of this a liner that +would do us any good would be a quarter mile in diameter at its widest +section. Is that practical?” + +“You might look into it again. You may have some new ideas,” said +Talbot. He had avoided stumbling badly--and he’d learned something, +although he should have known it in advance. The thermal bomb had been +made in the plant. He looked up quickly. “Just when did the technicians +arrive that morning? How many were in early?” + +“I went over that,” said Frescura. “So did plant protection. At least +fifty men were asked in ahead of their shift. Several came in without +being asked. But none of them were near your office.” + +It was puzzling and significant. Soleri had been in charge for years +with no attempt on his life _until he, Talbot, had been brought in_. + +Talbot filed the fact away for future reference. Someone had known +Talbot was going to come in that morning. Soleri had made it plain that +Randy knew. But who else? + +Whom besides Randy had Soleri talked to? He couldn’t ask, but it was +of vital importance. Whoever it was he had carefully manufactured the +bomb in the laboratory, calculating the time by the thickness of the +skin. That somebody had stuffed the capsule in his pocket and gone to +Soleri’s office. When only a few seconds remained, he had rolled it +through the door, giving himself just enough time to escape. But who +was he? Talbot had no idea. + +He discussed the thermal bomb for a moment or two and then switched to +the progress on the motor. He listened to Frescura, who was more than +willing to talk. Soon, unless he could slide out of the invitation, he +was going to have to answer some far more pointed questions from Taft. + +Still discussing high, very high, and stellar temperature chemistry, +they went into the main experimental shop. This gave Talbot the +opportunity of meeting the men he was supposed to have worked with for +several years. There was a great difference between a picture and a +page of statistics--even psychologically loaded statistics--and the +man himself. He did a creditable job of imitating Soleri as he spoke +to them. He had gone a long way toward merging with the dead man’s +personality. But there was always an incalculable risk involved in +anything he might say or do. + +Frescura stopped expectantly beside a large construction site +enclosure. “This is the latest,” he said in a hushed voice. + +Talbot looked at the work in progress critically. He was still at sea +as to its more technical aspects. “Is this the project we were working +on before the accident?” he asked. + +“Not exactly,” Frescura replied. “I’ve mentioned the theory before. But +the application is new.” + +Talbot was relieved. He wouldn’t be expected to know much about it. “Go +over it for my benefit,” he urged. “Quite a bit has happened in the +interval.” + +Frescura glanced at him queerly, and he regretted having made the +request. “You ought to remember this,” said the scientist. “Well, +it’s off the mainline of our experiments, but I thought we might get +some constructive results. We make the tube of dissimilar metals, one +jacketing the other. When it is heated we get a thermocouple effect. +An electric charge is generated. The charge on the inside of the tube +repels the exhaust molecules so that they don’t actually come in +contact with the inside surface. This reduces both heating and erosion.” + +Talbot rubbed his head. “I remember. Is it ready to go?” + +“It is,” said Frescura grimly. “But don’t stand there unless you want +another accident.” + +Talbot got out of the way hastily. He was blundering in practically +every statement he made. There was far more to a person than +personality, or his outward appearance. In Talbot’s particular case +knowledge was lacking--not textbook information, but intimate details +that could be acquired only by working closely with the man he was +impersonating. So far it hadn’t been serious. But he’d have to watch +himself. + +Frescura moved a switch, and there was a rumble within the enclosure. A +tiny, barely visible flame shot out a foot from where Talbot had been +standing. The rumble rose to a shriek, and quickly passed beyond the +range of hearing. The flame disappeared, but Talbot could still feel +the heat. + +Frescura picked up a wrench and tossed it into the path of the exhaust. +The instrument vanished and the huge curved backstop a hundred feet +away was suddenly coated with a thin film of molten metal. Frescura +grinned at him. + +“You’ve got to watch these things,” he said. He peered into an +eyepiece on the enclosure, making several adjustments before he seemed +satisfied. “Take a look,” he said to Talbot. + +Talbot looked, his eyes gradually growing accustomed to the intense +light that passed through the dense filters. He could see the inside +of the rocket tube, and the fierce incandescence shooting by. Actually +none of the exhaust gasses touched the walls of the tube, for there +was a static area an inch in thickness next to the wall where nothing +seemed to penetrate. + +As he tried to see more clearly exactly what was happening the +enclosure began to vibrate again, shaking the foundation. But the metal +held. The shriek declined to a rumble and then the sound died away +completely. + +Talbot blinked and straightened up. Frescura was jotting down +readings from the instruments on the enclosure. He made a few quick +calculations. “The test corresponds to a rocket speed of thirty +thousand miles a second,” he said. + +It was a long way from what they wanted, but it was about fifteen +times better than anything that had been attained before. “Not bad,” +Talbot said, cautiously. “Maybe we should settle for this. One sixth +the speed of light. Twenty-five years to the nearest star.” + +Frescura scowled at him. “Make it thirty,” he said. “They’ve got to get +up speed and slow down. Thirty to the star and thirty back. Sixty years +for the round trip, not counting exploration time.” + +“I understand,” Talbot said. “But with a young crew--boys not over +twenty-two or three--it’s possible to send a ship to the nearest star +and reasonably expect it to return.” + +“They’ll be eighty when they come back,” said Frescura. “Their friends +will all be dead.” + +“There are some lads who will volunteer--if the rewards are high +enough.” + +“No doubt,” said Frescura. “But there’s one detail which prevents +it--building a rocket motor which will last for more than a few +seconds.” + +“You’ve already accomplished a great deal,” said Talbot. + +“This?” Frescura laughed. “No good at all. You saw what just happened.” + +“I did. You shut off the motor.” + +Frescura looked at Talbot with sour amusement. “It was the automatics +that cut off the flow of fuel. Didn’t you see it? The inner charge +repelled matter, but it _couldn’t stop radiation_. Radiation heated +the tube. As it grew hot beyond a certain temperature the thermocouple +charge diminished, intensifying the heat transfer to the tube. When it +went, it fell apart in a hurry.” + +Talbot frowned. “There’s no way around it?” + +“None I know of. I’ll keep trying of course. With another hundred +million dollars we might make this work even though it’s far from what +we’re after.” + +Talbot shook his head in admiration. Frescura tossed huge sums about +with utmost ease. “Keep with it,” he said. “We’ve got to lick this or +it will finish us.” + +“We’ll come out on top,” said Frescura optimistically. + +Unfortunately Talbot didn’t have the same confidence. “Economize where +you can,” he cautioned. + +“There is no such thing as economy in research,” Frescura affirmed. + +“There had better be. We’re running low. Accounting is beginning to ask +questions. We’ll have to go to the board of directors before long.” + +“I guess so. The accident cost plenty.” Frescura leaned against the +enclosure, rubbing it with unconscious affection. “If you need help, +let me know. I’ll add my weight to yours.” + +“I’ll let you know,” said Talbot as he walked away. + +The trouble with Frescura was that he was a theoretical scientist, +completely indifferent to cost. As he went through the plant he saw +countless examples of waste. There was endless duplication, and the +place seemed overstaffed. But, though he could undoubtedly reduce costs +with efficient administration, that was not the most vital problem. + +He had to locate and unmask a man who did not shrink from cold-blooded +murder. It couldn’t have been Soleri. A successful saboteur would +not have sought out Talbot to help him. Neither would he have killed +himself. And it could not have been Randy. The trouble had begun long +before she had been hired. It wasn’t Frescura, for he had not only +initiated the project. He had pushed it through with all the influence +at his command. + +Taft was still unaccounted for. But he was the president of the company +and it was inconceivable that he would launch a criminal conspiracy +against his own interests. + +Nevertheless Talbot made up his own mind. His extreme sensitivity was +his most valuable weapon. He intended to find out just how far it would +take him. He completed the tour of the plant and went back to the +office. + +He called Randy, and immediately took up the problem of Taft. “I still +haven’t answered his invitation,” he told her. + +Her eyes clouded. “I know,” she said. “I’ll notify the department heads +that you won’t be in the plant for a few days--beginning Wednesday.” + +“I’ll be here,” he said. “I want you to dream up an excuse why I can’t +go. Make it good. I trust your social sense.” + +“You can’t do that,” she protested. “Have you seen the latest statement +from accounting?” + +“I have. We’ll need funds before long.” + +“You don’t turn down an invitation from the president when you may need +his help.” + +“You do when there are graver issues at stake. I’ve got to begin +somewhere. The top is a good place.” + +“A dangerous place,” she said. + +“I’m not thinking about that.” + +“You’d better,” she said. “Unless--have you got a cushion?” + +“In a way,” he said. “Somebody wants this project to fail, badly enough +kill anyone who stands in his way. Good, we’ll let it come close to +failure. We’ll see if there is any attempt made to interfere--” + +“You’re the boss,” she shrugged. + +“I hope it works.” + +“It will.” + +He flung himself into his work for the remainder of the afternoon. +Facts and figures went into his head and what came out was a reasonable +duplication of what Soleri had known. + +He finished late. Most of the office force had gone home. A few +technicians were working in the shop. Tired and numb he took an aircab. +Twenty moments later he was letting himself into his apartment. He +wasn’t imagining it. There was someone in the apartment. Still, Soleri +would inevitably have visitors now and then. It was nothing to be +afraid of. He went in. + +Randy smiled at him. “Hello, darling,” she said. + + + + + VI + + +Frescura got up hastily as he heard Taft’s familiar voice in Randy’s +office. “I’ll leave,” he said, folding the sheet Talbot had just signed. + +“Stick around,” Talbot urged. “I’m sure he wants to see you.” He hadn’t +thought Taft would come so soon, but he was not at all displeased. He +was equally grateful for Frescura’s presence, feeling confident that +it would provoke some interesting reactions. But he was destined to be +disappointed. + +Frescura wriggled his thick mustache. “I came up to ask Randy +something. I’ll go talk to her. If Taft wants to see me he’ll come out +to the lab.” + +“Suit yourself,” said Talbot. + +Frescura left. He could hear him conversing briefly with Taft in +Randy’s office before Taft came in. + +Andrew Taft was not the lean graying figure so familiar to the newscast +public. He was tall, but he was also considerably heavier than he +appeared to be on the screen. Distinguished citizens had certain +prerogatives, and the networks saw to it that the lighting dealt kindly +with them. + +“Sorry about the party,” Taft said on entering. “I flew up to try to +persuade you to change your mind.” + +Talbot shook hands, using his most cautious Soleri approach. “You know +how it is,” he said in half-apology. “I’ve fallen behind since the +tragedy. I’ve got to dig my way out.” + +“I’ve worried about you,” said Taft. “So has Eleanor.” He glanced up +quickly. “Your insistence on shunning social engagements doesn’t have +anything to do with her, does it?” + +“It doesn’t,” Talbot assured him. + +“South Africa may be a nice place to live. But it’s quite a distance. +And I really am in a mess here.” + +“Nonsense. You can fly there in a few hours,” said Taft. + +“Eight,” Talbot reminded him. “Service isn’t good to that part of the +globe.” + +“You can cut the time in half if you charter a direct flight,” said +Taft. “I suppose it would tire you out. But over-work can kill. You +ought to call Eleanor. You know she won’t take the initiative.” + +Talbot decided to risk a decisive move. “I’ll call her now,” he said. + +“No, wait until I leave,” said Taft hastily. “I don’t want her to know +I came to see you.” + +“Tonight then,” suggested Talbot. + +“Tonight’s fine,” said Taft. He chatted on inconsequentially for a +time. Talbot could see that Soleri’s relationship with Eleanor’s +family--though nominally cordial--was actually quite superficial, +except possibly with Eleanor herself. He would have to be careful not +to trip there. + +“What’s behind all this?” said Taft finally. “I know you. You work +hard, but you can also relax. You’re not the kind to turn down an +invitation just because you’re busy.” + +He’d judged the man correctly. Taft was shrewd, and quick to protect +his own interests, daughter or company. “I may as well be frank,” said +Talbot heavily. “I’m afraid we’re not going to develop the perfect +rocket motor--or anything close to it.” + +“That’s not what you said in your last report.” + +“Official optimism.” + +“It’s not Frescura’s attitude. I talked to him in Randy’s office and +he’s brimming over with enthusiasm.” + +“Frescura will back his own work if it takes the last cent of the +stockholders’ money.” + +“Don’t forget that some of that money belongs to him. He has stock in +the company too. In fact, his holdings exceed yours.” + +“I know. But we’ve spent six times the amount we originally estimated. +And the end’s not even in sight. I haven’t made up my mind, but I’ve +been wondering lately. Perhaps we should abandon this line of research +entirely. It may be the wisest course.” + +Taft stared at him, aghast. “You must be out of your mind. What would +we do with this plant? Close it down?” + +“We don’t have to. We can lease research facilities to other companies. +We can tackle short-range projects that _will_ pay off.” + +Taft got up and paced the floor. “You’re in favor of abandoning the +perfect rocket motor?” + +“I didn’t say that. I merely said that I was thinking about it. Of +course an alternative would be to reduce the scale of our efforts. Cut +it back to a few men--something that we can afford.” + +“I don’t know,” said Taft in agitation. “Frescura isn’t going to like +this.” + +“That’s another matter I wanted to discuss with you,” said Talbot. +“Frescura is a valuable man--too brilliant to be wasted on a project +that has no chance of success. We should assign him to something more +worthy of his talent.” + +Taft sat down. “You are actually saying that we should forget about +going to the stars.” + +“Not exactly. I think the idea should be placed in the proper +perspective. Later developments may enable us to resurrect it.” Talbot +was somewhat bewildered. Taft’s reaction had surprised him--although he +couldn’t have said quite what it was that he had expected. + +“Don’t you see what it means?” said Taft, his face lighting up. “If we +develop the motor in our own shops it will be _ours_. We won’t have to +license it to others. Every bit of interstellar trade will be carried +in our ships. Ours alone. _Monopoly_.” + +“Monopoly is nice,” said Talbot. “Bankruptcy isn’t. That’s what we face +unless we cut down.” + +“TRANSPORTATION is years away from bankruptcy,” said Taft sharply. + + * * * * * + +It was a shock to hear even that admission. Talbot’s own knowledge of +the company’s financial position was fair. But Taft was in a better +position to know the facts and if he said, even privately, that ruin +was years away it could be assumed that he had grave doubts about the +stability of the corporation. + +The startling fact stood revealed in all its naked ugliness. The +largest company in the solar system was none too secure. And it was the +reckless expenditures that Soleri was directing that had led them to +the brink of disaster. At least he had uncovered one motive. Someone +with a knowledge of the truth was out to wreck TRANSPORTATION. + +Before he could collect his thoughts there was an unexpected +interruption. The door opened and Frescura came in, his face dark with +anger. “As long as this is a stockholders’ meeting I thought I’d make +it a quorum,” he said. + +This much Talbot knew. Taft was the largest individual holder, owning +something less than fifty percent of the total corporate shares. +Frescura held a lesser percentage, though fractionally more than Soleri +did. Together the three of them constituted an actual working majority. +It had been their combined votes which had backed the project from the +beginning. + +“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” said Frescura. “Randy touched the wrong +button while we were talking and I overheard part of the conversation. +It concerned me--so I came in.” + +“We were discussing policy,” said Taft soothingly. “Nothing was +decided. You understand that.” + +“I understand,” said Frescura in a hard set tone. “I also understand +that this man is dangerous. He is _not_ Soleri.” + +The assurance that Talbot had gradually been acquiring suddenly +collapsed. He sat motionless, while a cold constriction tightened about +his heart. + +Taft looked from Talbot to Frescura. “You can’t be serious? I ought to +be able to recognize my chief executive and my own daughter’s fiance.” + +“Ordinally you would. But this man is a clever impostor,” said +Frescura. “He wants to abandon the project. Soleri would have recoiled +from the thought.” + +“I see no significance in that. Anyone can change his mind.” + +“Proof is on the way,” said Frescura. He seemed very sure of himself. +“I began to suspect him when he put questions to me Soleri would not +have needed to ask.” + +“It still isn’t proof.” But Taft was wavering. He turned and stared +uncertainly at Talbot. + +“You can’t expect me to defend myself from a charge like this,” said +Talbot. He realized at once that it was a weak answer, and tried to +strengthen it. “The fire in my office wasn’t trivial. It’s true, I may +have suffered a slight memory loss. The bursting of a few tiny blood +vessels in my brain would account for it. But that doesn’t mean I’m +less capable than before.” + +There was no possibility of escape. At Frescura’s command plant +protection would close every exit in the building. And then he’d be +charged with sabotage and murder. + +He had to sit it out. If he was exposed his only chance would be to +claim that for a time he had actually thought himself to be Soleri. +They’d investigate him psychologically, but mind tests weren’t exact +and he had a good chance of making them believe he was telling the +truth. + +“Nobody’s doubting your mental competence,” said Taft. “But there is +some question as to who you are. Are you Evan Soleri?” + +“What can I say to that?” said Talbot. “Are you Andrew Taft?” + +“That’s not a defense,” said Frescura with smooth confidence. “It won’t +be difficult to establish your identity.” He turned abruptly. “Come in +Randy.” + +The door opened and Randy entered the room. Talbot was sure she had +been listening to the entire conversation. He had never doubted her +loyalty, but if Frescura had convinced her that he was not worthy of +loyalty-- + +Frescura took the folder from her. Talbot knew what was coming but +curiously it relieved him. At least Randy wasn’t responsible. + +“You can leave now,” Frescura said sharply to her. Talbot knew she +would continue to listen outside the door, and was glad he would not +have to see her face. + +“His right hand was badly burned,” Frescura was saying. “New skin was +grafted on. We can’t prove anything from that.” + +“Fingerprints?” said Taft. “It’s an old method of identification, but +I’ve often wondered why it has fallen into disrepute.” + +“Because of the prevalence of skin grafts,” said Frescura. “But for +certain purposes it’s still the most accurate method.” He smiled. “It’s +in the hospital record that his left hand wasn’t burned. No skin was +grafted on. The prints on that hand will show us who he really is.” + +He shook the folder at Talbot. “This man signed an authorization +shortly before you came. When I heard what he said to you my suspicions +were confirmed. I sent Randy down to plant protection for a comparison +of prints. Here are the results.” + +He opened the folder, and looked at the three typed pages within. He +stood there motionless, staring in consternation until the papers slid +out and fluttered to the floor. His face was ashen. He reached out for +support and lowered himself into a chair. + +“What does it say?” said Taft impatiently. “My God, what’s happening +around this place anyway?” He scooped up the papers and read them +silently. He passed them over to Talbot. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Truly +sorry. I should never have had even the slightest doubt about you.” + +Talbot’s sight blurred as he read the comment from plant protection: +“Comparison of prints with those in our file reveals that Evan Soleri +signed this authorization. The left hand prints match perfectly. The +right hand indicates a skin graft from which no identification can be +made.” + +Empathy had saved him. It had collapsed the difference between one +person and another to nothing--zero. It had changed more than his face +to match the subject identity. To the tips of his fingers he was now +Soleri. The change hadn’t been made all at once; perhaps it had taken +a week to reach completion. But here he was, safely Soleri--or trapped +in the other identity. For the moment he preferred to think of it as +safety. + +“There are other tests,” he said to Frescura. “I’ll take them all, +including the empathy index.” + +Frescura stirred dully. “It will be zero point ninety-five,” he said. + +“Don’t bait him,” said Taft sharply. “He made a mistake, granted. He +accused you unjustly. But you must remember that you attacked a project +he has devoted his life to. He’s emotionally upset. What he did was +understandable.” + +Frescura’s eyes roamed across the ceiling. “I couldn’t let you stop +me,” he whispered. + +Taft grasped his shoulder encouragingly. “Nothing will stop us. We’re +going to the stars--no matter what it costs. However, you’ve been +working too hard. I’ll send my doctor to you. He’s strict about some +things but he’s the best. He’ll get you back in shape.” + +Taft turned to Talbot. “As for you, I don’t like memory lapses, even +in minor matters. I want you to promise me you’ll see my doctor after +he gets through with Frescura.” + +“I’ll be glad to,” Talbot said, without animosity. “I’ve been wondering +what to do.” + +Taft swung back to Frescura. By some personal miracle the man had +pulled himself together again. He was alert and forceful. Taft regarded +him with approval. + +“That’s better. Go home and rest. Don’t work today.” + +“You’re right,” Frescura said. “I should do that. I’ll have to drop by +the lab and tell the boys I won’t be in for a few days.” + +“Evan will tell them. We’ll call a cab and get you on your way. Don’t +worry about anything. The project will be continued.” + +They waited until Frescura left in an aircab. Taft got up, shaking his +head bewilderedly. “Well, I’ll go too. Don’t forget that call tonight.” + +“I won’t. I’ll be sure and call her.” + +“Good.” Taft wiped his forehead. “This has been a hassle. We have them +occasionally but I’ve never seen one to equal this.” Still shaking his +head he went away. + +Talbot leaned back and closed his eyes. He had achieved a victory +that was far from superficial and it gave him a feeling of personal +solidity. He was Soleri and he was going to be Soleri and nobody would +ever know the difference. + +But the rest didn’t make sense. + +Both Taft and Frescura were now beyond suspicion. He had nothing to go +on--nothing at all. He’d have to re-examine the whole problem from the +beginning. Somewhere within the plant was a criminal conspirator who +didn’t want TRANSPORTATION to develop the perfect rocket motor. He was +still there. He had killed once, and he wouldn’t hesitate to kill again. + +Why? If he could put his finger on the man’s motivating impulse he +could track him down with little trouble. Somehow it seemed to go far +beyond ordinary commercial rivalry. + +Talbot heard a sound at his elbow and opened his eyes. Randy was +standing beside the desk. + +“Sleeping?” she asked, smiling at him. + +“No, just thinking,” he said. + +She leaned toward him. “Think about this then. I want to leave early.” + +He stared at her, puzzled. “No. There’s work to do.” + +“But there isn’t,” she assured him. “I ought to know.” + +He realized then that she wanted him to know that she had listened +to most of the conversation. Probably she’d read the note from plant +protection. Talbot thought of the call he’d have to make later. He had +no desire to make her listen to that too. + +“All right,” he said. “I guess you know by now that I can’t play the +stern employer when you look at me like that.” + +She smiled at him, turned and went out. + +He remained in his office thinking throughout the afternoon. He went +home late--and alone. + + + + + VII + + +In a dim corner of the apartment Talbot fingered a picture of Eleanor. +Soleri’s taste in women closely paralleled his own. From a distance +Eleanor could be mistaken for Laura. She was a trifle prettier perhaps, +more lighthearted and whimsical, and more used to having her own way. + +He didn’t want to put through a long-distance call to her. He was +entangled enough as it was with Randy, the three-cornered struggle +between himself, Taft and Frescura and the unknown obstructionist in +the plant, not to mention the perfectly efficient rocket motor that was +never going to be built. + +He laid the picture face downwards on his desk, and went to the screen. +But he didn’t call Eleanor Taft in her South African home. He called +Randy. + +She answered in a charming state of dishabille. “Is this the way you +always come to the screen?” he asked. + +“I knew it was you,” she replied. “I’m only surprised that you didn’t +call sooner.” + +“Put some clothes on,” he said. + +“Don’t you like it? Or are you asking me to come over?” + +“I like it,” he said. “But don’t come over. Not yet. I want some +information. Precisely what did you do this afternoon?” + +She made a face. “It was awful. Candidly I thought I’d stumbled into +an old fashioned mental institution. I never would have believed I was +eavesdropping on a high-level conference between the three top minds in +the biggest corporation in the system.” + +“We’re human too,” he said gloomily. “At least I think we are. What I +meant was: What did you do when Frescura came out of my office and Taft +went in?” + +“Do you want a detailed report?” + +“Yes--all of it. Exactly as it happened.” + +“Well, Frescura came out and talked to Taft for a moment. Taft went in +to see you, and Frescura wanted some information from another office. +He sent me to get it. When I came back he handed me the folder and told +me to take it to plant protection. He said to wait there for results +and bring it back as soon as I could.” + +“Is that all?” + +“That’s all.” + +“Good,” Talbot said. “Put on your clothes and come over.” + +“I’m glad you changed your mind.” + +“So am I. But I won’t be home when you get here. I may not be back +until quite late. Whatever you do, don’t leave the apartment until I +return. Promise?” + +“What choice do you give me? I’ll wait.” + +He cut off the screen and reached for a jacket. With methodical +persistence he went through Soleri’s possessions until he found a gun. +He had expected to find one. He checked it swiftly to make sure that +it was loaded and in working condition. It was. He pocketed it with +satisfaction and called a cab. He had to hurry. + +He saw from the air that the entire plant was dark except for a light +in one of the offices. Even from a distance he thought he could tell +which office it was. The cab landed, and he got out. There was a guard +at the office entrance. He questioned the man quickly, and thoroughly. + +The plant was closed down tight. All of the other gates were securely +locked and would remain closed until morning. The guard hadn’t seen +anyone leave or enter the building. He didn’t know whether or not the +office was occupied but it was reasonable to suppose that someone might +be working late. Talbot stood back and looked. The light wasn’t visible +from the corridor entrance. + +Talbot told the guard to stop anyone who came out. He went in and made +a tour of the offices. They were all dark. The man in the lighted +office had apparently heard Talbot enter the building and had left +ahead of him. + +Talbot moved warily into the main shop. It was huge, cavernous and dim. +He would not have been able to see at all except for the luminous strip +which edged the aisles. Shadows loomed on the walls and ceiling and +it would have been a simple matter for an intruder to conceal himself +behind one of the machines. + +He went on. None of the laboratories were lighted. Back and forth +across the plant he went, always sure there was a man just ahead of him +he could never quite overtake. He turned and had begun to retrace his +route when a light snapped on in the middle section of the building. +He felt the gun in his pocket and walked to the edge of the circle of +light. + +Frescura was standing completely motionless behind a machine, his head +inclined. He looked up abruptly as Talbot approached. “I knew you would +come back,” said Talbot. + +“I did,” acknowledged Frescura. + +“You lied this afternoon,” Talbot said. “Randy didn’t ‘accidentally’ +touch the button which enabled you to hear what I was saying. She +wasn’t there. You sent her away so that you could listen.” + +Frescura smiled and said nothing. + +“You figured out what I was going to recommend to Taft. But you wanted +to be sure. Another thing, I didn’t slip. You knew from the beginning +or you would never have thought of the fingerprint subterfuge. You had +to be the one who rolled in the bomb.” + +“Of course,” said Frescura. “Soleri confided to only two people that he +was going to bring you in--myself and Randy. If Soleri had survived he +would have remembered that. Therefore I guessed the truth instantly. I +knew what you were capable of. That’s why I tried to get rid of both +you, and Soleri.” + +“You must have sweated while I was in the hospital,” said Talbot. “It’s +a good thing Randy was watching over me.” + +“It was a good thing for you that I was nervous,” said Frescura. +“Later, when you got well and didn’t say anything I knew exactly what +had happened. I thought I could handle you.” + +“That was your biggest mistake. I caused all sorts of trouble. But +why did you have to get rid of anyone? Was it because you were close +to success? Or because you wanted the discovery for yourself when the +company failed?” + +“You’re still thinking in terms of money,” said Frescura. “There are +things of far greater importance. The discovery was mine. It was mine +from the very beginning. I did all the fundamental work. After the +first year I could have built a motor that would drive a ship near the +speed of light.” + +Talbot leaned back. “And you still asked for more money, pouring it +endlessly into non-existent research? I’ll admit that you could have +led us astray--if anybody could. But why?” + +“I wanted to be absolutely successful in establishing a conviction +that the motor could never be built,” said Frescura. “It was a +problem in business psychology. I bought shares in the largest +company in existence. I had influence, and I persuaded them to spend +impossible sums under the direction of the foremost scientist in the +field--myself. If that combination couldn’t build the motor no one else +would ever try.” + +“What did you have to gain?” said Talbot. + +“Why don’t you ask me what I had to lose,” countered Frescura. “That +engine would take us to the stars. Mankind isn’t ready for it.” + +“There’s something to what you say,” conceded Talbot. “Maybe we’re not +ready. I’m not a judge. But you’re a scientist. Nearly everyone in your +family has been a distinguished scientist for generations. Surely _you_ +should know that man is never fully ready for any new discovery.” + +“I am aware of my family’s collective guilt,” said Frescura. “But no +Frescura will ever again be instrumental in leading mankind to the +verge of destruction.” + +“That’s not an enlightening or entirely sane explanation,” said Talbot. + +“To you, perhaps not,” said Frescura. “To me it is. Both of my +grandfathers worked on the atom bomb. It has haunted us--” + +Talbot’s hand moved toward the gun in his pocket. “I see,” he said. “It +might haunt some people. However that disaster was prevented, just as +your insane little scheme will be. You’ve failed.” + +“You’re mistaken,” said Frescura. “This afternoon I knew you’d begin to +suspect me. I left deliberately, making sure you would see me go. But I +came back.” + +“So did I,” said Talbot. “You failed.” + +“I hardly think you’ll shoot me,” said Frescura. + +“I will if I have to. You left notes. Other men will make good use of +them now that they know you’ve been guilty of sabotage and murder.” + +“My notes will be quite useless to them,” said Frescura with a +melancholy smile. “I told you I was far ahead of everyone else in the +field.” + +The gun came out of Talbot’s pocket. He was sweating. “There are times +when everyone feels that the human race isn’t worth blowing to hell,” +he said. “You’ll feel differently after psychology. Let’s go.” + +“I can’t. My foot’s caught, and I’m in great pain. I turned on the +light to prevent you from plugging away at me in the darkness.” He was +staring intently at Talbot’s weapon. “I don’t have a gun. You will have +to help me.” + +Talbot had no intention of moving any closer to Frescura’s powerful +arms. “You’ll have to free yourself,” he said. “Your foot will slip out +of the shoe.” + +“I’ll try.” Frescura leaned on the machine and strained. His leg +swung free. There was an odd rattling sound. Talbot glanced down--and +froze. Scores of black spheres were rolling across the floor in all +directions. Thermal capsules! Frescura had quite obviously been lying +about the injury to his leg. He had resorted to the subterfuge to +distract Talbot’s attention while he overturned a small box at the base +of the machine with a swift carefully timed kick. + +Talbot glanced up. Frescura had leapt back into the shadows, and was +crouching behind the machines, his bulk only faintly visible in the dim +light. + +“Can you find all of them in this light--in the time you have left?” he +taunted. “What would you do with them if you succeeded?” + +Talbot raised his gun and sent a shot crashing into the shadows in the +general direction of the voice. As the dim subsided he called out, “The +next one will be you! Start toward the front.” + +There was a mocking laugh from another direction. “I don’t think I +will. But you’d better hurry, Talbot.” + +He didn’t stop to argue. The shop would be an inferno when the covering +of the capsules disintegrated. + +The shop was long, but it took him scarcely an instant to reach the +office building. The two structures were connected, but there was a +massive firewall between them. Talbot was thankful for the wall’s +protection. + +At the corridor near the outside entrance he tried to turn too quickly +and went sprawling into a side passageway. He cursed the panic which +had caused him to stumble. It wasn’t entirely physical. His knees had +simply buckled and he couldn’t control his actions as he slammed into +the wall and fell. He was trying to get up when the thermal concussion +hit him. + +The superheated air expanded violently and hurled him flat again. In +the shop steel and concrete had been instantly vaporized near each +sphere. But the firewall at the office held. It took up most of the +shock before it crumbled, and the sprinklers switched on. + +Talbot became suddenly and violently ill. It was partly a nervous +reaction, partly a physical one. The guard from the outside came by, +running toward the explosion. He didn’t see Talbot lying stretched out +on the floor in the side corridor. + +Talbot staggered to his feet and went outside. He was still panic +stricken; he ran. + +When finally he was out of breath and the fear and nausea had +diminished, he slowed down. He came to a rise in the street and looked +back. The shop was a glowing mass of white hot steel and concrete. +Now and then a capsule which had been timed for a different interval +belatedly let loose, sending up a shower of sparks. Frescura was dead. + +Attracted by the fire and explosion people were coming out on the +street. It was dark and he was glad he couldn’t see their faces. He +tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. He went by a group +under a street light. A little boy stopped in front of him, gazing up. + +“Mommy, what’s the matter with him?” shrieked the child, pointing to +Talbot’s face. + +The woman looked too. “Hush,” she said, jerking her son back. “You know +it’s bad manners to point.” + +“But what’s the _matter_ with him?” persisted the child. + +Talbot walked on. His clothing was disheveled, but not burned. He felt +light-headed, unsteady on his feet. He was not surprised that the woman +had pulled the child away. + +He had done his best. He had tried desperately to save Frescura from +his misplaced guilt feelings. Now he was going home to Randy. He had +thought his return would be more triumphant than this. + +He was nearing the apartment when he caught sight of himself in a shop +mirror. He went past, then came back, and looked again. Finally he +looked away. Into his mind had washed a torrent of terror. His eyes +seemed empty and hueless. + +His cheeks sagged. His face was _Between_. + +His empathy had been shattered by shock and fear. He could close the +gulf between Soleri and himself because they had been very much alike +to begin with. But Frescura was different, incomprehensible. He could +never have succeeded in understanding Frescura. + +He had caught the last shreds of Frescura’s consciousness, and it was +that terrifying awareness which had sent him sprawling just before the +concussion. The obscure forces of his mind tried always to put him in +another’s place. In times of extreme mental reaction the force became +much stronger. But it couldn’t span the emotional gulf between himself +and the scientist. + +What it had done was to force out the lingering hold Soleri’s +personality still had on him. He was no longer Soleri. But by the same +token he was not yet himself. + +He was reverting. + +And his face was Between. It was a visible indication of what he was +becoming. He couldn’t ever hope to pass as Soleri again. And that meant +that Randy would be lost to him forever. + +He turned and walked away from the apartment. His thoughts were dull +and blank. He walked on until his body rebelled. + +He stared about him. His wandering hadn’t been haphazard. +Subconsciously his steps had taken him to his old apartment. He was +standing in front of the building where he had lived as Hal Talbot. +Wearily he climbed two flights of stairs and let himself in with a key +which he had never discarded. + +He fell on the bed. It was Talbot who went to sleep. + + + + + VIII + + +In the morning he avoided shaving. He didn’t want to look in the +mirror. He ate, slept again, and listened to newscasts. + +The newscaster announced that both Soleri and Frescura were dead. +Soleri had been seen entering the plant but he hadn’t come out. +Frescura’s death was harder to determine. He had left in the afternoon +but there were definite indications that he had returned to the main +workshop. The office building hadn’t been destroyed but the intense +heat from the adjacent shop had caused considerable damage. A report +had been found indicating that Frescura had planned a final experiment. +He had been aware of the danger, and had planned to perform it at night +in the workshop. An unexpected accident had apparently led to the +tragedy. + +The loss of building and equipment was partly covered by insurance. The +company hastened to assure the public that there was sufficient capital +in reserve to enable it to survive the blow to its financial stability. + +Talbot shut off the newscast. He might have liked Frescura. Except for +his excessive guilt complex the man had been heroic. And Talbot had to +admit that Frescura had been right in one detail. He hadn’t failed. The +perfect rocket motor would never be fully constructed in this century. + +Meanwhile, he had a problem. What did the future hold for him? He +lunched frugally, and tried to control his agitation. In the middle of +the afternoon there was a knock on the door. + +Randy had found him. She came in quietly and looked around at the +shabby little apartment. + +“I didn’t come to ask questions, although I have a right to,” she said. +“But you made a mistake. Your salary allotment is on the executive +payroll. It came to me for verification.” + +“You can’t prove anything,” he said. “And if you could--would it +matter?” + +“I can prove all I want to prove,” she said. + +“Soleri’s dead.” + +“I know,” she said. “I’ve known for a long time. That wasn’t the only +mistake you made.” + +“You’ve known for a long time?” He sat down. + +“Since the night I took you home from the hospital--and stayed. You +said the wrong things. You kept giving yourself away. Don’t forget I +was hired because I’m a psychologist.” + +She stared at him steadily. “You told me that nothing had changed +between us. But you were mistaken. I’m not in the habit of throwing +myself at men. I admit I did at Soleri, just a little. But he was not +in love with me. He might have been--except that he was in love with +Eleanor.” + +“Why didn’t you tell someone?” Talbot said. “Take it to plant +protection?” + +“I couldn’t,” she said. “I was upset, but I had trapped myself. I +couldn’t--not until I figured things out. A few days later I decided +not to interfere. You told me that a man had been killed and that you +intended to find out why. I knew that you were not responsible for what +had happened, that you were not just a self-seeking opportunist.” + +So his masquerade hadn’t been nearly as good as he had thought! +At least two people had seen through it. “That arrangement you +mentioned--your statement that you were going home early. Was that +deliberate too?” + +“I wanted more proof that you weren’t Soleri,” said Randy. “And--well, +I wanted to see if you minded. I’m glad you did.” + +His thoughts were whirling and he couldn’t look at her. Mechanically +Talbot opened the envelope. There was more money in it for his three +weeks of employment than he had earned in any previous three months. + +“When I put Talbot on the payroll I thought you were dead,” said Randy. +“It was going to be your last job--so I made it a good one. I signed +you on as assistant to Soleri.” + +He could do without that. He didn’t need any industrial “assists” apart +from himself, and his training in transportation and electronics. + +“Taft is hoping you’ll show up,” said Randy. “His two top men are gone. +He needs a new executive familiar with the organization. The company +will still do research, on a dozen new projects. It has to keep on +with experimental work if it’s going to survive.” + +“Thanks for the tip!” He grinned at her. “I might go down and see what +position they have for a man of my ability. You’d like that, wouldn’t +you?” + +He crossed the room and looked down at her. “But you’ve got to +understand this--there are some things for which I can’t be any man’s +assistant.” + +“You won’t be,” said Randy. + +“Don’t you know you never were?” + +He knew it now. It was good to be himself again. + + + + +Transcriber’s Note: + + +This etext was produced from Fantastic Universe, March 1956 (Vol. 5, +No. 2.). Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed. + +Obvious errors in punctuation have been silently corrected in this +version, while spelling and hyphenation have been kept as is. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77510 *** |