under the marquee; the dooropened, and a police officer got out, followed by an elegantly dressedcivilian whom he recognized at once as Salgath Trod. A secondpoliceman was emerging from the car when Vall suddenly realized whatit was that had disturbed him.
It had been Salgath Trod, himself, less than half an hour ago, who hadintroduced the term, "the Organization," to the Paratime Police. Atthat time, if these people were what they claimed to be, they wouldhave been in transposition from Industrial Twenty-four, on the FifthLevel. Immediately, he reached for his needler. He was clearing it ofthe holster when things began happening.
The handcuffs fell from the "prisoner's" wrists; he jerked aneutron-disruption blaster from under his jacket. Vall, his needleralready drawn, rayed the fellow dead before he could aim it, then sawthat the two pseudo-policemen had drawn their needlers and were aimingin the direction of Salgath Trod. There were no flashes or reports;only the spot of light that had winked on and off under Vall's rearsight had told him that his weapon had been activated. He saw itappear again as the sights centered on one of the "policemen." Then hesaw the other imposter's needler aimed at himself. That was the lastthing he expected ever to see, in that life; he tried to shift his ownweapon, and time seemed frozen, with his arm barely moving. Then therewas a white blur as Dalla's cloak moved in front of him, and theneedler dropped from the fingers of the disguised murderer. Time wentback to normal for him; he safetied his own weapon and dropped it,jumping forward.
He grabbed the fellow in the green uniform by the nose with his lefthand, and punched him hard in the pit of the stomach with his rightfist. The man's mouth flew open, and a green capsule, the size andshape of a small bean, flew out. Pushing Dalla aside before she wouldstep on it, he kicked the murderer in the stomach, doubling him over,and chopped him on the base of the skull with the edge of his hand.The pseudo-policeman dropped senseless.
With a handful of handkerchief-tissue from his pocket, he picked upthe disgorged capsule, wrapping it carefully after making sure that itwas unbroken. Then he looked around. The other two assassins weredead. Tortha Karf, who had been looking at the man in Proletariandress whom Vall had killed first, turned, looked in another direction,and then cursed. Vall followed his eyes, and cursed also. One of thetwo policemen who had gotten out of the aircar was dead, too, and sowas the all-important witness, Salgath Trod--as dead asNebu-hin-Abenoz, a hundred thousand parayears away.
* * * * *
The whole thing had ended within thirty seconds; for about half aslong, everybody waited, poised in a sort of action-vacuum, forsomething else to happen. Dalla had dropped the shoulder-bag withwhich she had clubbed the prisoner's needler out of his hand, andcaught up the fallen weapon. When she saw that the man was down andmotionless, she laid it aside and began picking up the glittering orsilken trifles that had spilled from the burst bag. Vall retrieved hisown weapon, glanced over it, and holstered it. Sothran Barth, thelieutenant in charge of the landing stage, was bawling orders, and menwere coming out of the ready-room and piling into vehicles to pursuethe aircar which had brought the assassins.
"Barth!" Vall called. "Have you a hypodermic and a sleep-drug ampoule?Well, give this boy a shot; he's only impact-stunned. Be careful ofhim; he's important." He glanced around the landing-stage. "Fact is,he's all we have to show for this business."
Then he stooped to help Dalla gather her things, picking up a few ofthem--a lighter, a tiny crystal perfume flask, miraculously unbroken,a face-powder box which had sprung open and spilled half its contents.He handed them to her, while Sothran Barth bent over the prisoner andgave him an injection, then went to the body of the otherpseudo-policeman, forcing open his mouth. In his cheek, stillunbroken, was a second capsule, which he added to the first. TorthaKarf was watching him.
"Same gang that killed that Carera slaver on Esaron Sector?" he asked."Of course, exactly the same general procedure. Let's have a look atthe other one."
The man in Proletarian dress must have had his capsule between hismolars when he had been killed; it was broken, and there was abrownish discoloration and chemical odor in his mouth.
"Second time we've had a witness killed off under our noses," TorthaKarf said. "We're going to have to smarten up in a hurry."
"Here's one of us who doesn't have to, much," Vall said, noddingtoward Dalla. "She knocked a needler out of one man's hand, and wetook him alive. The Force owes her a new shoulder-bag: she spoiledthat one using it for a club."
"Best shoulder-bag we can find you, Dalla," Tortha Karf promised."You're promoted, herewith, to Special Chief's Assistant's SpecialAssistant--You know, this Organization murder-section is good; theycould kill anybody. It won't be long before they assign a squad to us.Blast it, I don't want to have to go around bodyguarded like a FourthLevel dictator, but--"
A detective came out of the control room and approached.
"Screen call for you, sir," he told Tortha Karf. "One of the newsservices wants a comment on a story they've just picked up that we'veillegally arrested Councilman Salgath and are holding himincommunicado and searching his apartment."
"That's the Organization," Vall said. "They don't know how their boysmade out; they're hoping we'll tell them."
"No comment," Tortha Karf said. "Call the girl on my switchboard andtell her to answer any other news-service calls. We have nothing tosay at this time, but there will be a public statement at ... at2330," he decided after a glance at his watch. "That'll give us timeto agree on a publicity line to adopt. Lieutenant Sothran! Take chargeup here. Get all these bodies out of sight somewhere, including thoseof Councilman Salgath and Detective Malthor. Don't let anybody talkabout this; put a blackout on the whole story. Vall, you and Dalla and... oh, you, over there; take the prisoner down to my office. Sothran,any reports from any of the cars that were chasing that fake policecar?"
Verkan Vall and Dalla were sitting behind Tortha Karf's desk; Vall wasissuing orders over the intercom and talking to the detectives who hadremained at Salgath Trod's apartment by visiscreen; Dalla was sortingover the things she had spilled when her bag had burst. They bothlooked up as Tortha Karf came in and joined them.
"The prisoner's still under the drug," the Chief said. "He'll be outfor a couple of hours; the psych-techs want to let him come out of itnaturally and sleep naturally for a while before they give him ahypno. He's not a ServSec Prole; uncircumcised, never had anysyntho-enzyme shots or immunizations, and none of the longevityoperations or grafts. Same thing for the two stiffs. And no identityrecords on any of the three."
"The men at Salgath's apartment say that his housekeeper and his twoservants checked out through the house conveyer for ServSecOne-Six-Five, at about 1830," Vall said. "There's a Proleentertainment center on that time line. I suppose Salgath gave themthe evening off before he called you."
Tortha Karf nodded. "I suppose you ordered them picked up. The newsservices are going wild about this. I had to make a preliminarystatement, to the effect that Salgath Trod was not arrested, came toHeadquarters of his own volition, and is under no restraint whatever."
"Except, of course, a slight case of rigor mortis," Dalla added. "Didyou mention that, Chief?"
"No, I didn't." Tortha Karf looked as though he had quinine in hismouth. "Vall, how in blazes are we going to handle this?"
"We ought to keep Salgath's death hushed up, as long as we can," Vallsaid. "The Organization doesn't know positively what happened here;that's why they're handing out tips to the news services. Let's try tomake them believe he's still alive and talking."
"How can we do it?"
"There ought to be somebody on the Force close enough to SalgathTrod's anthropometric specifications that our cosmeticians could workhim over into a passable impersonation. Our story is that Salgath ison PolTerm, undergoing narco-hypnosis. We will produce an audio-visualof him as soon as he is out of narco-hyp. That will give us time tofix up an impersonator; We'll need a lot of sound-recordings ofSalgath Trod's voice, of course--"
"I
'll take care of the Home Time Line end of it; as soon as we get youan impersonator, you go to work with him. Now, let's see whom we candepend on to help us with this. Lovranth Rolk, of course; Home TimeLine section of the Paratime Code Enforcement Division. And--"
* * * * *
Verkan Vall and Dalla and Tortha Karf and four or five others lookedacross the desk and to the end of the room as the telecast screenbroke into a shifting light-pattern and then cleared. The face of theannouncer appeared; a young woman.
"And now, we bring you the statement which Chief Tortha of theParatime Police has promised for this time. This portion of theprogram was audio-visually recorded at Paratime Police Headquartersearlier this evening."
Tortha Karf's face appeared on the screen. His voice began anannouncement of how Executive Councilman Salgath Trod had called himby visiphone, admitting to complicity in the recently-discoveredparatemporal slave-trade.
"Here is a recording of Councilman Salgath's call to me from hisapartment to my office at 1945 this evening."
The screen-image shattered into light-shards and rebuilt itself:Salgath Trod, at his desk in the library of his apartment, thebrandy-goblet and the needler within reach, appeared. He began tospeak: from time to time the voice of Tortha Karf interrupted,questioning or prompting him.
"You understand that this confession renders you liable topsycho-rehabilitation?" Tortha Karf asked.
Yes, Councilman Salgath understood that.
"And you agree to come voluntarily to Paratime Police Headquarters,and you will voluntarily undergo narco-hypnotic interrogation?"
Yes, Salgath Trod agreed to that.
"I am now terminating the playback of Councilman Salgath's call tome," Tortha Karf said, re-appearing on the screen. "At this pointCouncilman Salgath began making a statement about his criminalactivities, which we have on record. Because he named a number of hiscriminal associates, whom we have no intention of warning, thisportion of Councilman Salgath's call cannot at this time be madepublic. We have no intention of having any of these suspects escape,or of giving their associates an opportunity to murder them to preventtheir furnishing us with additional information. Incidentally, therewas an attempt, made on the landing stage of Paratime PoliceHeadquarters, to murder Councilman Salgath, when he was brought hereguarded by Paratime Police officers--"
He went on to give a colorful and, as far as possible, truthful,account of the attack by the two pseudo-policemen and theirpseudo-prisoner. As he told it, however, all three had been killedbefore they could accomplish their purpose, one of them by SalgathTrod himself.
The image of Tortha Karf was replaced by a view of the three assassinslying on the landing stage. They all looked dead, even the one whowasn't; there was nothing to indicate that he was merely drugged.Then, one after another, their faces were shown in closeup, whileTortha Karf asked for close attention and memorization.
"We believe that these men were Fifth Level Proles; we think that theywere under hypnotic influence or obeying posthypnotic commands whenthey made their suicidal attack. If any of you have ever seen any ofthese men before, it is your duty to inform the Paratime Police."
* * * * *
That ended it. Tortha Karf pressed a button in front of him and thescreen went dark. The spectators relaxed.
"Well! Nothing like being sincere with the public, is there?" Dellacommented. "I'll remember this the next time I tune in a Managementpublic statement."
"In about five minutes," one of the bureau-chiefs, said, "all hell isgoing to break loose. I think the whole thing is crazy!"
"I hope you have somebody who can give a convincing impersonation,"Lovranth Rolk said.
"Yes. A field agent named Kostran Galth," Tortha Karf said. "We ranthe personal description cards for the whole Force through themachine; Kostran checked to within one-twentieth of one per cent; he'son Police Terminal, now, coming by rocket from Ravvanan Equivalent. Weought to have the whole thing ready for telecast by 1730 tomorrow."
"He can't learn to imitate Salgath's voice convincingly in that time,with all the work the cosmeticians'll have to be doing on him," Dallasaid.
"Make up a tape of Salgath's own voice, out of that pile of recordingswe got at his apartment, and what we can get out of the news file."Vall said. "We have phoneticists who can split syllables and splicethem together. Kostran will deliver his speech in dumb-show, and we'lldub the sound in and telecast them as one. I've messaged PolTerm toget to work on that; they can start as soon as we have the speechwritten."
]
"The more it succeeds now, the worse the blow-up will be when wefinally have to admit that Salgath was killed here tonight," the ChiefInter-officer Cooerdinator, Zostha Olv said. "We'd better havesomething to show the public to justify that."
"Yes, we had," Tortha Karf agreed. "Vall, how about the KholghoorSector operation. How far's Ranthar Jard gotten toward locating one ofthose Wizard Trader time lines?"
"Not very far," Vall admitted. "He has it pinned down to thesub-sector, but the belt seems to be one we haven't any information atall for. Never been any legitimate penetration by paratimers. He hashis own hagiologists, and a couple borrowed from Outtime ReligiousInstitute; they've gotten everything the slaves can give them on that.About the only thing to do is start random observation withboomerang-balls."
"Over about a hundred thousand time lines," Zostha Olv scoffed. He wasan old man, even for his long-lived race; he had a thin nose and anarrow, bitter, mouth. "And what will he look for?"
"Croutha with guns." Tortha Karf told him, then turned to Vall. "Can'the narrow it more than that? What have his experts been getting out ofthose slaves?"
"That I don't know, to date." Vall looked at the clock. "I'll findout, though; I'll transpose to Police Terminal and call him up. AndSkordran Kirv. No. Vulthor Tharn; it'd hurt the old fellow's feelingsif I by-passed him and went to one of his subordinates. Half an houreach way, and at most another hour talking to Ranthar and Vulthor;there won't be anything doing here for two hours." He rose. "See youwhen I get back."
Dalla had turned on the telescreen again; after tuning out a danceorchestra and a comedy show, she got the image of an angry-faced manin evening clothes.
"... And I'm going to demand a full investigation, as soon as Councilconvenes tomorrow morning!" he was shouting. "This whole story is apreposterous insult to the integrity of the entire Executive Council,your elected representatives, and it shows the criminal lengths towhich this would-be dictator, Tortha Karf, and his jackal Verkan Vallwill go--"
"So long, jackal." Dalla called to him as he went out.
* * * * *
He spent the half-hour transposition to Police Terminal sleeping.Paratime-transpositions and rocket-flights seemed to be his onlychance to get any sleep. He was still sleepy when he sat down in frontof the radio telescreen behind his duplicate of Tortha Karf's desk andput through a call to Nharkan Equivalent. It was 0600 in India; theSector Regional Deputy Subchief who was holding down Ranthar Jard'sdesk looked equally sleepy; he had a mug of coffee in front of him,and a brown-paper cigarette in his mouth.
"Oh, hello, Assistant Verkan. Want me to call Subchief Ranthar?"
"Is he sleeping? Then for mercy's sake don't. What's the presentstatus of the investigation?"
"Well, we were dropping boomerang balls yesterday, while we had sun tomask the return-flashes. Nothing. The Croutha have taken the city ofSohram, just below the big bend of the river. Tomorrow, when we havesunlight, we're going to start boomerang-balling the central square.We may get something."
"The Wizard Traders'll be moving in near there, about now," Vall said."The Croutha ought to have plenty of merchandise for them. Have yougotten anything more done on narrowing down the possible area?"
The deputy bit back a yawn and reached for his coffee mug.
"The experts have just about pumped these slaves empty," he said. "Thelocal religion is a mess. Seems to ha
ve started out as a Great Mothercult; then it picked up a lot of gods borrowed from other peoples;then it turned into a dualistic monotheism; then it picked up a lot ofminor gods and devils--new devils usually gods of the older pantheon.And we got a lot of gossip about the feudal wars and faction-fightsamong the nobility, and so on, all garbled, because these people arepeasants who only knew what went on on the estate of their own lord."
"What did go on there?" Vall asked. "Ask them about recentimprovements, new buildings, new fields cleared, new paddies flooded,that sort of thing. And pick out a few of the highest IQ's from bothtime lines, and have them locate this estate on a large-scale map, anddraw plans showing the location of buildings, fields and other visiblefeatures. If you have to, teach them mapping and sketching byhypno-mech. And then drop about five hundred to a thousand boomerangballs, at regular intervals, over the whole paratemporal area. Whenyou locate a time line that gives you a picture to correspond to theirdescription, boomerang the main square in Sohram over the whole beltaround it, to find Croutha with firearms."
The deputy looked at him for a moment then
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