theprevious performance record, just to be absolutely positive.
Satisfied, he folded the _Racing Form_, shoved it back into his pocket,and walked over to the fifty-dollar window.
"Gimmie nine tickets on Ducksoup in the seventh," he said, plonking thehandful of bills down on the counter.
But before the man behind the window grating could take the money, a huge,hamlike, and rather hairy hand came down on top of his own hand, coveringit and the money at the same time.
"Hold it, Lenny," said a voice at the same time.
Lenny jerked his head around to his right and looked up to see a largishman who had "cop" written all over him. Another such individual crowdedpast Lenny on his left to flash a badge on the man in the betting window,so that he would know that this wasn't a holdup.
"Hey!" said Lenny. His mind was thinking fast. He decided to play hisfavorite role, that of the indignant Italian. "Whatsa da matta with you,hah? Thisa no a free country? A man gotta no rights?"
"Come on, Mr. Poe," the big man said quietly, "this is important."
"Poe? You outta you mind? Thatsa name of a river----or a raven. I'm aforgetta which. My namesa Manelli!"
"_Scusi, signore_," the big man said with exaggerated politeness, "_ma selei e veramente italiano, non' e l'uomo che cerchiamo._"
Lenny's Italian was limited to a handful of words. He know he was trapped,but he faced the situation with aplomb. "Thatsa lie! I was inna Chicagothat night!"
"_Ah! Cose credero. Avanti, saccentone._" He jerked his thumb toward thegate. "Let's go."
Lenny muttered something that the big man didn't quite catch.
"What'd you say?"
"Upper United States--the northern United States," Lenny said calmlyshoving his four hundred fifty dollars into his pocket. "That's whereChicago is. Never mind. Come in, boys; back to the drawing board."
The two men escorted Lenny to a big, powerful Lincoln; he climbed into theback seat with the big one while the other one got behind the wheel.
As soon as they had left the racetrack and were well out on the highway,the driver said: "You want to call in, Mario? This traffic is prettyheavy."
The big man beside Lenny leaned forward, over the back of the front seat,unhooked the receiver of the scrambler-equipped radiophone, and sat backdown. He thumbed a button on the side of the handset and said: "This isSeven Oh Two." After a short silence, he said: "You can call off the net.You want him brought in?" He listened for a moment. "O.K. Are we clearedthrough the main gate? O.K. Off."
He leaned forward to replace the receiver, speaking to the driver as hedid so. "Straight to the Air Force base. They've got a jet waiting therefor him."
He settled back comfortably and looked at Lenny. "You could at least tellpeople where you're going."
"Very well," said Lenny. He folded his arms, closed his eyes, and relaxed."Right now, I'm going off to dreamland."
He waited a short while to see if the other would say anything. He didn't,so Lenny proceeded to do exactly what he had promised to do.
He went off to dreamland.
He had not been absolutely sure, when he made the promise, that he wouldactually do just that, but the odds were in favor of it. It was now oneo'clock in the morning in Moscow, and Lenny's brother, Raphael, was a manof regular habits.
Lenny reached out. When he made contact, all he got was a jumble of hash.It was as though someone had made a movie by cutting bits and snippetsfrom a hundred different films, no bit more than six or seven frames long,with a sound track that might or might not match, and projected the resultthrough a drifting fog, using an ever-changing lens that rippled like thesurface of a wind-ruffled pool. Sometimes one figure would come into sharpfocus for a fraction of a second, sometimes in color, sometimes not.
Sometimes Lenny was merely observing the show, sometimes he was in it.
_Rafe! Hey, Rafe! Wake up!_
The jumble of hash began to stabilize, becoming more coherent--
* * * * *
Lenny sat behind the far desk, watching his brother come up the primrosepath in a unicycle. He pulled it to a halt in front of the desk, openedthe pilot's canopy, threw out a rope ladder, and climbed down. His gaitwas a little awkward, in spite of the sponge-rubber floor, because of thehuge flowered carpetbag he was carrying. A battered top hat satprecariously on his blond, curly hair.
"Lenny! Boy, am I glad to see you! I've got it! The whole trouble is inthe wonkler, where the spadulator comes across the trellis grid!" Helifted the carpetbag and sat it down on the lab table. "Connect up thegroffle meter! We'll show those pentagon pickles who has the push-and-gohere!"
"Rafe," Lenny said gently, "wake up. You're dreaming. You're asleep. Iwant to talk to you."
"I know." He grinned widely. "And you don't want any back talk from me!Yok-yok-yok! Just wait'll I show you!"
In his hands, he held an object which Lenny did not at first understand.Then Rafe's mind brought it into focus.
"This"--Rafe held it up--"is a rocket motor!"
"Rafe, wake up!" Lenny said.
The surroundings stabilized a little more.
"I will in just a minute, Lenny." Rafe was apologetic. "But let me showyou this." It did bear some resemblance to a rocket motor. It was about aslong as a man's forearm and consisted of a bulbous chamber at one end,which narrowed down into a throat and then widened into a hornlike exhaustnozzle. The chamber was black; the rest was shiny chrome.
Rafe grasped it by the throat with one hand. The other, he clasped firmlyaround the combustion chamber. "Watch! Now watch!"
He gave the bulbous, rubbery chamber a hard squeeze--
"_SQUAWK!_" went the horn.
"Rafe!" Lenny shouted. "Wake up! WAKE UP!"
Rafe blinked as the situation clarified. "What? Just A Second. Lenny.Just...."
* * * * *
"... _A second._"
Raphael Poe blinked his eyes open. The moon was shining through the dirtywindows of the dingy little room that was all he could call home--for awhile, at least. Outside the window were the gray streets of Moscow.
His brother's thoughts resounded in his fully awake brain. _Rafe! Youawake?_
_Sure. Sure. What is it?_
The conversation that followed was not in words or pictures, but a weirdcombination of both, plus a strong admixture of linking concepts that wereneither.
In essence, Lenny merely reported that he had taken the day off to go tothe races and that Colonel Spaulding was evidently upset for some reason.He wondered if Rafe were in any kind of trouble.
_No trouble. Everything's fine at this end. But Dr. Malekrinova won't beback on the job until tomorrow afternoon--or,_ this _afternoon,rather._
_I know_, Lenny replied. _That's why I figured I could take time off for ago at the ponies._
_I wonder why they're in such a fuss, then?_ Rafe thought.
_I'll let you know when I find out_, Lenny said. _Go back to sleep anddon't worry._
* * * * *
In a small office in the Pentagon, Colonel Julius T. Spaulding cradled thetelephone on his desk and looked at the Secretary of Defense. "That wasthe airfield. Poe will be here shortly. We'll get to the bottom of thispretty quickly."
"I hope so, Julius," the Secretary said heavily. "The president isbeginning to think we're both nuts."
The colonel, a lean, nervous man with dark, bushy eyebrows and a mustacheto match, rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling. "I'm beginning to agreewith him."
The Defense Secretary scowled at him. "What do you mean?"
"Anybody who takes telepathy seriously is considered a nut," said thecolonel.
"True," said the Secretary, "but that doesn't mean we _are_ nuts."
"Oh, yeah?" The colonel took the cigar out of his mouth a gestured withit. "Anybody who'd do something that convinces all his friends he's nutsmust be nuts."
The Secretary smiled wanly. "I wish you wouldn't be so logical. Yo
u almostconvince me."
"Don't worry," said the colonel. "I'm not ready to have this room measuredfor sponge-rubber wallpaper just yet. Operation Mapcase has helped a lotin the past few months, and it will help even more."
"All you have to do is get the bugs out of it," said the Secretary.
"If we did that," Colonel Spaulding said flatly, "the whole operationwould fold from lack of personnel."
"Just carry on the best you can," the Secretary said gloomily as he gotup to leave. "I'll let you handle it."
"Fine. I'll call you later."
* * * * *
Twenty minutes after the Defense Secretary had gone, Lenny Poe was showninto Colonel Spaulding's office. The agent who had brought him in closedthe door gently, leaving him alone with the colonel.
"I told you I'd be back this evening. What were you in such a hurryabout?"
"You're supposed to stay in touch," Colonel Spaulding pointed out. "Idon't mind your penchant for ponies particularly, but I'd like to knowwhere to find you if I need you."
"I wouldn't mind in the least, colonel. I'd phone you every fifteenminutes if that's what you wanted. Except for one thing."
"What's that?"
Lenny jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Your linguistically talentedflatfeet. Did you ever try to get into a floating crap game when you werebeing followed by a couple of bruisers who look more like cops than copsdo?"
"Look, Poe, I can find you plenty of action right here in Washington, ifit won't offend your tender sensibilities to shoot crap with a senator ortwo. Meanwhile, sit down and listen. This is important."
Lenny sat own reluctantly. "O.K. What is it?"
"Dr. Davenport and his crew are unhappy about that last batch of drawingsyou and I gave 'em."
"What's the matter? Don't they like the color scheme? I never thoughtscientists had any artistic taste, anyway."
"It's got nothing to do with that. The--"
The phone rang. Colonel Spaulding scooped it up and identified himself.Then: "What? Yeah. All right, send him in."
He hung up and looked back at Lenny. "Davenport. We can get his storyfirsthand. Just sit there and look important."
Lenny nodded. He knew that Dr. Amadeus Davenport was aware that the sourceof those drawings was Soviet Russia, but he did not know how they had beenobtained. As far as he knew, it was just plain, ordinary spy work.
He came in briskly. He was a tall, intelligent-looking man with a rathercraggy face and thoughtful brown eyes. He put a large brief case on thefloor, and, after the preliminaries were over, he came right to the point.
"Colonel Spaulding, I spoke to the Secretary of Defense, and he agreedthat perhaps this situation might be cleared up if I talked directly withyou."
"I hope so," the colonel said. "Just what is it that seems to be botheringyou?"
"These drawings," Davenport said, "don't make any sense. The devicethey're supposed to represent couldn't do anything. Look; I'll show you."
He took from his brief case photostatic copies of some of the drawingsLenny had made. Five of them were straight blueprint-type drawings; thesixth was a copy of Lenny's near-photographic paintings of the deviceitself.
"This component, here," he said, gesturing at the set of drawings, "simplybaffles us. We're of the opinion that your agents are known to the Sovietgovernment and have been handed a set of phony plans."
"What's it supposed to do?" Lenny asked.
"We don't know what it's _supposed_ to do," the scientist said, "but it'sdoubtful that it would _actually_ do anything." He selected one of thephotocopies. "See that thing? The one shaped like the letter Q with anoffset tail? According to the specifications, it is supposed to be paintedemerald green, but there's no indication of what it is."
* * * * *
Lenny Poe reached out, picked up the photocopy and looked at it. Itwas--or had been--an exact copy of the drawing that was used by Dr. SonyaMalekrinova. But, whereas the original drawing has been labeled entirelyin Cyrillic characters, these labels were now in English.
The drawings made no sense to Lenny at all. They hadn't when he'd madethem. His brother was a scientist, but Lenny understood none of it.
"Who translated the Russian into English?" he asked.
"A Mr. Berensky. He's one of our best experts on the subject. I assure youthe translations are accurate, Dr. Davenport said.
"But if you don't know what that thing is," the colonel objected, "howcan you say the device won't work? Maybe it would if that Q-shaped thingwas--"
"I know what you mean," Davenport interrupted. "But that's not the onlypart of the machine that doesn't make any sense."
He went on to explain other discrepancies he had detected in the drawings,but none of it penetrated to Lenny, although Colonel Spaulding seemed tobe able to follow the physicist's conversation fairly readily.
"Well, what's you suggestion, doctor?" the colonel asked at last.
"If you agents could get further data," the physicist said carefully, "itmight be of some use. At the same time, I'd check up on the possibilitythat your agents are known to the NKVD."
"I'll see what can be done," said the colonel. "Would you mind leavingthose copies of the drawings with me for a while?"
"Go right ahead," Davenport said. "One other thing. If we assume thisdevice is genuine, then it must serve some purpose. It might help if weknew what the device is supposed to _do_."
"I'll see what can be done," Colonel Spaulding repeated.
When Davenport had gone, Spaulding looked at Poe. "Got any explanation forthat one?"
"No," Lenny admitted. "All I can do is check with Rafe. He won't be awakefor a few hours yet. I'll check on it and give you an answer in themorning."
* * * * *
Early next morning, Colonel Spaulding walked through his outer office. Hestopped at the desk where the pretty brunette WAC sergeant was typingindustriously, leaned across the desk, and gave her his best leer. "Howabout a date tonight, music lover?" he asked, "'_Das Rheingold_' isplaying tonight. A night at the opera would do you good."
"I'm sorry, sir," she said primly, "you know enlisted women aren't allowedto date officers."
"Make out an application for OCS. I'll sign it."
She smiled at him. "But then I wouldn't have any excuse for turning youdown. And then what would my husband say?"
"I'll bribe him. I'll send _him_ to OCS."
"He's not eligible. Officers are automatically disqualified."
Colonel Spaulding sighed. "A guy can't win against competition like that.Anything new this morning?"
"Mr. Poe is waiting in your office. Other than that, there's just theroutine things."
He went on into his office. Lenny Poe was seated behind the colonel'sdesk, leaning back in the swivel chair, his feet on the top of the desk.He was sound asleep.
The colonel walked over to the desk, took his cigar from his mouth, andsaid: "_Good_ morrrning, Colonel Spaulding!"
Lenny snapped awake. "I'm not Colonel Spaulding," he said.
"Then why are you sitting in Colonel Spaulding's chair?"
"I figured if I was asleep nobody'd know the difference." Lenny got up andwalked over to one of the other chairs. "These don't lean backcomfortably. I can't sleep in 'em."
"You can sleep later. How was your session with Rafe?"
Lenny glowered glumly. "I wish you and Rafe hadn't talked me into thisjob. It's a strain on the brain. I don't know how he expects anyone tounderstand all that garbage."
"All what garbage?"
Lenny waved a hand aimlessly. "All this scientific guff. I'm an artist,not a scientist. If Rafe can get me a clear picture of something, I cancopy it, but when he tries to explain something scientific, he might aswell be thinking in Russian or Old Upper Middle High Martian orsomething."
"I know," said Colonel Spaulding, looking almost as glum as Lenny. "Didyou get anything at all that would help Dr. Davenport figur
e out whatthose drawings mean?"
"Rafe says that the translations are all wrong," Lenny said, "but I can'tget a clear picture of just what _is_ wrong."
* * * * *
Colonel Spaulding thought for a while in silence. Telepathy--at least inso far as the Poe brothers practiced it--certainly had its limitations.Lenny couldn't communicate mentally with anyone except his brother Rafe.Rafe could pick up the thoughts of almost anyone if he happened to beclose by, but couldn't communicate over a long distance with anyone butLenny.
The main trouble lay in the fact that it was apparently impossible totransmit a concept directly from Brain A to Brain B unless the basicbuilding blocks of the concept were already present in Brain B. RaphaelPoe, for instance, had spent a long time studying Russian, readingDostoevski, Tolstoy, and Turgenev in the original tongue, familiarizinghimself
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