The Eyes Have It

by James McKimmey

the clip. Just five. You see?"

  They all bent forward, blinking.

  "Good," said Heidel, shoving the clip back into the grip of the gun. Hecouldn't keep his lips from curling in his excitement, but his handswere as steady as though his nerves had turned to ice.

  The five men leaned back in their chairs.

  "Now then, Meehan," he said to the man at the opposite end of the table."Would you mind moving over to your left, so that the end of the tableis clear?"

  "Oh?" said Meehan. "Yes, of course." He grinned at the others, and therewas a ripple of amusement as Meehan slid his chair to the left.

  "Yes," said Heidel. "All pretty foolish-looking, perhaps. But it won'tbe in a few minutes when I discover the bastard of a Martian who's inthis group, I'll tell you that!" His voice rose and rang in the room,and he brought the glistening pistol down with a crack against thetable.

  * * * * *

  There was dead silence and Heidel found his smile again. "All right, nowI'll explain a bit further. Before Dr. Kingly, the head of ourlaboratory, died a few days ago, he made a very peculiar discovery. Asyou know, there has been no evidence to indicate that the Martian is anydifferent, physically, from the Earthman. Not until Dr. Kingly made hisdiscovery, that is."

  Heidel looked from face to face. "This is how it happened," he went on."Dr. Kingly ..."

  He paused and glanced about in false surprise. "I beg your pardon,gentlemen. We might as well be enjoying our wine. Excellent port. Veryold, I believe. Shall we?" he asked, raising his glass.

  Five other glasses shimmered in the candlelight.

  "Let us, ah, toast success to the unveiling of the rotten Martian whosits among us, shall we?" Heidel's smile glinted and he drank a quarterof his glass.

  The five glasses tipped and were returned to the table. Again there wassilence as the men waited.

  "To get back," Heidel said, listening with excitement to his own voice."Dr. Kingly, in the process of an autopsy on a derelict Martian, made arather startling discovery ..."

  "I beg your pardon," Forbes said. "Did you say autopsy?"

  "Yes," said Heidel. "We've done this frequently. Not according to baseorders, you understand." He winked. "But a little infraction now andthen is necessary."

  "I see," said Forbes. "I just didn't know about that."

  "No, you didn't, did you?" said Heidel, looking at Forbes closely. "Atany rate, Dr. Kingly had developed in his work a preserving solutionwhich he used in such instances, thereby prolonging the time forexamination of the cadaver, without experiencing deterioration of thetissues. This solution was merely injected into the blood stream,and ..."

  "Sorry again, sir," Forbes said. "But you said blood stream?"

  "Yes," Heidel nodded. "This had to be done before the cadaver was acadaver, you see?"

  "I think so, yes," said Forbes, leaning back again. "Murdered thebastard for an autopsy, what?"

  Heidel's fingers closed around the pistol. "I don't like that, Forbes."

  "Terribly sorry, sir."

  "To get on," Heidel said finally, his voice a cutting sound. "Dr. Kinglyhad injected his solution and then ... Well, at any rate, when hereturned to his laboratory, it was night. His laboratory was black aspitch--I'm trying to paint the picture for you, gentlemen--and thecadaver was stretched out on a table, you see. And before Dr. Kinglyswitched on the lights, he saw the eyes of this dead Martian glowing inthe dark like a pair of hot coals."

  "Weird," said Sadler, unblinking.

  "Ghostly," said Clarke.

  "The important thing," Heidel said curtly, "is that Dr. Kinglydiscovered the difference, then, between the Martian and the Earthman.The difference is the eyes. The solution, you see, had reactedchemically to the membranes of the eyeballs, so that as it happenedthey lit up like electric lights. I won't go into what Dr. Kingly foundfurther, when he dissected the eyeballs. Let it suffice to say, theMartian eyeball is a physical element entirely different from ourown--at least from those of five of us, I should say."

  His grin gleamed. He was working this precisely and carefully, and itwas effective. "Now, however," he continued, "it is this _sixth_ man whois at issue right now. The fly in the soup, shall we say. And in just afew seconds I am going to exterminate that fly."

  He picked up the pistol from the table. "As I told you, gentlemen, I amquite versatile with this weapon. I am a dead shot, in other words. AndI am going to demonstrate it to you." He glanced from face to face.

  "You will notice that since Mr. Meehan has moved, I have a clear fieldacross the table. I don't believe a little lead in the woodwork will marthe room too much, would you say, Forbes?"

  Forbes sat very still. "No, I shouldn't think so, sir."

  "Good. Because I am going to snuff out each of the four candles in thecenter of this table by shooting the wick away. You follow me,gentlemen? Locke? Meehan? Sadler?"

  Heads nodded.

  "Then perhaps you are already ahead of me. When the last candle isextinguished, we will have darkness, you see. And then I think we'llfind our Martian rat. Because, as a matter of fact," Heidel lolled hiswords, "I have taken the privilege of adding to the wine we have beendrinking Dr. Kingly's preserving solution. Non-tasteful, non-harmful.Except, that is, to one man in this room."

  Heidel motioned his gun. "And God rest the bastard's soul, because ifyou will remember, I have five bullets in the chamber of this pistol.Four for the candles and one for the brain of the sonofabitch whose eyeslight up when the last candle goes out."

  * * * * *

  There was a steady deadly silence while the flames of the candles lickedat the still air.

  "I think, however," Heidel said, savoring the moment, "that we shouldhave one final toast before we proceed." He lifted his glass. "May thereceiver of the fifth bullet go straight to hell. I phrase thatliterally, gentlemen," he said, laughing. "Drink up!"

  The glasses were drained and placed again on the table.

  "Watch carefully," Heidel said and lifted the pistol. He aimed at thefirst candle. The trigger was taut against his finger, the explosionloud in the room.

  "One," said Heidel.

  He aimed again. The explosion.

  "Two," he said. "Rather good, eh?"

  "Oh, yes," Sadler said.

  "Quite," said Forbes.

  "Again," said Heidel. A third shot echoed.

  "Now," he said, pointing the muzzle at the last candle. "I would saythis is it, wouldn't you, gentlemen? And as soon as this one goes, I'mafraid one of us is going to find a bullet right between his goddamsparkling eyes. Are you ready?"

  He squinted one eye and looked down the sights. He squeezed the trigger,the room echoed and there was blackness. Heidel held his pistol poisedover the table.

  Silence.

  "Well," said Forbes finally. "There you have it. Surprise, what?"

  Heidel balanced the pistol, feeling his palm go suddenly moist againstthe black grip, and he looked around at the five pairs of glowing eyes.

  "Bit of a shock, I should imagine," Forbes said. "Discovering all of us,as it were."

  Heidel licked his lips. "How? _How_ could you do this?"

  Forbes remained motionless. "Simple as one, you know. Put men on rocketsgoing back to Earth in place of returning colonists. Study. Observe.Learn. Shift a record here and there. Forge, change pictures, all thatsort of thing. Poor contact between here and Earth, you know. Not toodifficult."

  "I'll get one of you," Heidel said, still balancing his pistol tightly.

  "Well, possibly," Forbes said. "But no more than one. You have threeguns pointed at you. We can see you perfectly, you know, as though itwere broad daylight. One shiver of that pistol, and you're dead."

  "Why have you done this?" Heidel said suddenly. "_Why?_ Everything thatwas done was for the Martian. We tried to give you freedom and culture,the benefit of our knowledge...."

  "We didn't like your wrestlers," Forbes said.

  Heidel's nostrils twitch
ed, and suddenly he swung the pistol. There wasa crashing explosion and then silence.

  "Good," said Forbes. "I don't think he got the last one fired."

  "You're all right then?" asked Meehan, putting his gun on the table.

  "Oh, quite! Rather dramatic altogether, eh?"

  "Nerve tingling," Locke agreed.

  Forbes turned in his chair and called, "Oh, Kessit!"

  The butler opened the