by E. C. Tubb
“That applies to all of us,” reminded King. “Who else?”
“Jelkson.” Kenton raised his hand at the botanist’s gesture of indignation. “You are in contact with Phorisci. You have had ample time to cook up any scheme he might suggest. You are friendly with him and could have obtained the bomb. You had access to the seeds and to number seven.” Kenton dragged at his cigarette. “All that’s missing is motive. Well?”
“I didn’t do it,” said Jelkson simply. “I couldn’t have done it.”
“All right, personally I don’t think that you did it either, but I could be wrong.” Kenton paused. “Susan, do we consider her?”
“No!” Jelkson half rose and then relaxed. “Not Susan. I’d trust her with my life, she simply couldn’t do such a thing.”
“Count out the Doc too,” said King. “I’ll vouch for him.”
“That leaves Perchon and myself.” Kenton shrugged. “I know I didn’t do it but that means nothing. What do you think?”
“No motive,” said King. “As Controller you have everything to lose and nothing to gain. What about Perchon?”
“It could be Perchon,” said Jelkson suddenly. He looked at the others. “We know that he spends most of his off-duty time in town. He could have contacted the Denebians there. He is a heavy gambler and must be in need of money. He is irresponsible and would see no great harm in destroying the tobacco. He was in charge of the infected crop.”
“That’s right,” said King slowly. “He fits, Dan. It could be him.”
“It needn’t be.” Kenton turned back to the window. “I don’t like to crucify a man behind his back. If we only had some sort of proof to go on. Something concrete instead of mere suppositions.”
He paused, waiting for the inevitable suggestion and, when it came, he was not surprised to find that it was Jelkson who proposed it.
“We could search his room,” said the botanist. “We could do it now while he is away in town. We might be able to find a clue.”
Kenton didn’t smile but the twitching in his cheek eased a little. He sighed and, turning, let his shoulders slump in resignation.
“I don’t like it,” he said. “But if you both agree?”
They did.
* * * *
Thorpe, Susan and Perchon were waiting in the office when the three men returned. Susan looked pale and the heavy gloves she wore accentuated the slimness of her arms. Perchon seemed bewildered and moved restlessly about the office while Thorpe, sitting in the chair smoking his pipe, was the calmest of them all. A boxed instrument stood beside him on the floor where he had placed it. He rose as the three men entered.
“Sorry to barge in like this, Kenton, but something cropped up which I think is is important.”
“Is it about the crop failure?”
“Yes.”
“It’s all over,” said Jelkson bitterly. “We know who did it.” He glared at Perchon. “There’s the man. There’s the dirty swine who sold us out to the Denebians.”
“What!” Perchon took a step towards the little botanist then, with a visible effort, controlled himself. “I think that you’d better apologise, Jelkson. And you’d better do it quick before I knock your teeth down your lying throat.”
“There’s no need for that sort of talk,” rapped King. He took something from his pocket and threw it onto the desk. It rolled a little before settling, a small, heavy object shaped a little like an old-fashioned hand grenade. “We found this in your room, Perchon.”
“My room?” Perchon stared at it. “What is it?”
“A radiation cartridge such as is used by the Denebians to sterilise their buildings. One just like it was used to ruin the tobacco crop. Maybe you’d like to explain how it came to be in your room?”
“I didn’t put it there,” said Perchon. “I’ve never seen it before.”
“Naturally you’d say that,” sneered Jelkson. “That’s what I thought you’d say. But you can’t lie your way out of this. You could have ruined the seeds. You could have set off the radiation bomb. You had this thing hidden in your room. If that isn’t proof, then what is?”
“Sit down, Jelkson.” Thorpe pushed the excited botanist into a chair. “Now, let’s have some sensible talk about this. You say that you found this bomb in Perchon’s room?”
“I didn’t find it,” snapped Jelkson, meticulous as ever despite his excitement. “King found it.”
“In Perchon’s room?”
“Yes.”
“I see,” Thorpe looked at Kenton. “What made you decide to search Perchon’s room?”
“Jelkson came to me with the discovery that the tobacco failure had been caused by exposure to hard radiation. He saw Phorisci sterilise buildings with a similar bomb to that we found in Perchon’s room. We decided to search his room merely either to eliminate or confirm him as a suspect.” Kenton shrugged and lit a cigarette. “Something had to be done, Thorpe. It was obvious that we had a saboteur among us and it is our duty to find him.”
“And you’ve picked on Perchon?”
“I’ve picked on no one,” said Kenton deliberately. “It could have been any of us. we all had access to the seeds and to number seven. Discovering a radiation cartridge in Perchon’s room seems, to me, to need explaining.” Kenton sighed and stared at the red-headed man. “I’m sorry, Perchon, but you must see how it is. Until you prove yourself innocent I can only assume that you are guilty. I have no choice but to turn you over to Commander Ransom.”
“For what?” Perchon glared at the Controller. “Are you telling me that I’m guilty of sabotage?”
“No. All I am saying is that I have sufficient proof to charge you with it. Commander Ransom can weigh the evidence and give his verdict. I’m sorry, Perchon, but I have no alternative.”
“I didn’t do it,” said Perchon. He was sweating, his forehead glistening with tiny beads of moisture. “Someone must have planted that bomb in my room. I’ve never seen it before in my life, I wouldn’t even have known what it was. You can’t condemn a man to first degree execution on evidence like that.”
“Commander Ransom will do the condemning,” reminded Kenton wearily. “He is a just man. If you are innocent you have nothing to fear.”
“That’s the bunk!” snapped Perchon desperately, “and you know it. Ranson will think as you do. He will insist that I clear myself, and how can I do that? If you don’t believe that I’m innocent he will certainly think I am guilty.” He looked at the others. “But why me? Aside from the bomb, which was planted in my room, what case is there against me?”
King told him. He told him with a curt abruptness that left no doubt as to his conviction as to the other’s guilt. Perchon listened without interruption and, when the accountant had finished, he seemed to have shrunken into himself.
“It sounds good,” he said bitterly. “As far as circumstantial evidence goes I haven’t got a chance. I don’t suppose that it’s any good me saying that I didn’t do it?”
“Ransom will decide that,” said Kenton. He inhaled at his cigarette. “I’ll record my testimony and leave him to make the decision.”
“Record your testimony?” Thorpe frowned. “Why? Why can’t you give it in person?”
“I’m catching the next ship out,” explained Kenton. “Ransom has approved my leaving to purchase supplies of tobacco seed. I doubt if I will be here when the inquiry opens.” He hesitated, looking not at Perchon but at the thin trail of smoke rising from his cigarette.
“I hate to say this,” he said quietly, “but it has to be said. If you are guilty, Perchon, and frankly I cannot see how you can be found innocent, then you have one chance to undo some of the wrong you have caused. An inquiry cannot do other than hurt our relations with the Denebians. The sentence, without doubt, will be first degree execution. I don’t know how you feel about that but, personally, I cannot think of anything worse. If you would prefer to take the easy way out I am sure that the doctor will assist you.”
“Suicid
e?” Perchon dabbed at his streaming forehead. “For what? To prove that I’m guilty?” He stared hopelessly at the hard faces surrounding him. “You really believe it, don’t you? You all honestly believe that I’m guilty.”
“No.” Thorpe smiled and shook his head. “No, Perchon, I don’t believe that you are guilty.”
“No?” Kenton looked up, his face strained. “What makes you so sure?”
“Because I know who really did do the sabotage,” said Thorpe evenly.
He stared at the twitching muscle high on Kenton’s cheek.
“This trip of yours,” Thorpe said abruptly. “Tell me about it.”
“It’s a routine matter,” said Kenton. “We need more seed and I’m going to buy some. I’ve permission to leave and King will authorise money for the purchase.”
“I see.” Thorpe nodded as if he understood. “As the seed may be expensive and as you may have to do quite a bit of travelling you will need a rather large amount of cash. Do we have that much available?”
“If not I can draw on other Company farms for my needs.” Kenton dragged impatiently at his cigarette. “May I ask what concern this is of yours?”
“None, naturally. I was just interested.”
“I don’t see why you should be. It is normal procedure. But never mind that, what makes you think that you have discovered the saboteur?”
“I don’t think I have discovered him,” said Thorpe quietly. “I know who it is and, if you will be patient, I will prove it.” He reached down and lifted his box onto the desk. “Firstly, I think it must be plain that the criminal must be someone with motive, opportunity and availability of method. We know that the crop failure was due to a radiation cartridge being detonated in number seven greenhouse. That cartridge must have been exploded before Susan went to examine the plants.”
“Obviously,” snapped Jelkson impatiently. “Perchon fired it before he left for town.”
“Did he?” Thorpe shook his head. “I think not. As soon as I discovered that radiations were the cause of the crop failure I did some investigating. I took the trouble to call in on Phorisci, you were present then, Jelkson, but we didn’t meet. I explained what I wanted to the sub-director and he arranged to meet me in Phorisci’s office. We had a most interesting conversation.”
“So that was why he invited me to see the sterilisation!” Jelkson nodded as if at the settling of a nagging doubt. “Why didn’t he want us to meet?”
“I requested that my audience be private. I made myself mysterious enough to intrigue the sub-director and, perhaps because we have played chess together in the past, he agreed to keep my visit a secret. I wasn’t there long.”
“Why did you go in the first place?” asked King.
“To find out whether or not they could help me solve a problem,” said Thorpe blandly. “They could and they did. I asked them about sterilisation techniques, I heard of the radiation bombs from my Denebian opposite number on a visit to town. He was quite worried at the time because of the potential danger of uncontrolled radiations. I remembered our conversation and I went to find out the answer to a single question. I wanted to know the maximum time between the firing of the bomb and the beginning of vegetation decay. The answer, gentlemen, is three hours.”
It didn’t register. Thorpe could tell it from their blank expressions. All of them, with the exception of Kenton, looked irritated at what they considered a waste of time. Kenton was just irritated. He sat and smoked, his left hand clenched as though he found it almost impossible to control his impatience.
“Perchon went to town at three in the afternoon,” said Thorpe. “Susan examined the tobacco crop four hours later. At that time the plants showed signs of decay. Whoever set off the bomb it could not have been Perchon. At that time he was in town and didn’t return until next morning. Incidentally, I have taken the trouble to check up on him. There are five witnesses who will swear to his presence from four in the afternoon until late in the evening. I have no doubt that other witnesses could be found to account for the rest of the time.”
“They could,” said Perchon emphatically. “Six of them. We played poker until dawn.” He smiled with sheer relief. “Thanks, Doc. I guess that clears me.”
“No it doesn’t,” snapped King. “The time margin is too small and, anyway, you could have used a timing device.”
“He could,” admitted Thorpe, “but he didn’t. Perchon only returned to the farm the next morning and attended the inquiry as soon as he arrived. At that time number seven was under guard and, later, it was occupied with the sterilisation crew. Perchon had no chance to enter it unobserved and less chance to remove the exhausted bomb or any timing device used. The shell of the bomb was not discovered so someone must have removed it during the night.”
“Sounds logical,” admitted King. “I hadn’t thought about that.”
“Thank you.” Thorpe smiled at the beaming Perchon and rested his hand casually on the box he had lifted onto the desk. “We can eliminate Perchon. In fact he is the only one we can eliminate so easily because he is the only one with a foolproof alibi.”
“So we’re back where we started,” said King worriedly. “No proof against anyone.”
“It isn’t quite as bad as that,” said Thorpe. “We do have proof and, as I said, I know who is guilty.”
“Who?” Kenton rose from his chair and strode toward the windows. He stood facing outward for a while then turned and regained his seat. “Who was it?”
“Let us run over the events of that evening,” said Thorpe with deliberate attention to detail. “Susan examined the plants at seven. At that time decay had just commenced and, naturally, she handled the leaves to examine the minute traces. She then called Perchon who, after making tests, called Kenton. All three met in the building then Kenton left and the other two continued their duties. Between Susan discovering the traces and Jelkson checking her findings was a lapse of several hours. Is that correct, Jelkson?”
“Yes. Susan reported to me early that evening. I was busy and couldn’t get around to checking until later. It was fairly late when I called Kenton, in fact I thought that he would have been asleep.”
“Thank you. Susan in fact, was alone in the building from seven until about an hour later. Jelkson joined her about eleven and took an hour to make his tests.” Thorpe shrugged. “The times are not important. What is important is the danger period for secondary radiation after use of the bomb.”
“Phorisci told me that it was several hours,” said Jelkson.
“For Denebians, yes,” agreed Thorpe. “But our radiation tolerance is lower than theirs. But I am not concerned with secondary radiations, what I am interested in is the radioactivity of the exhausted bomb itself. That radioactivity, according to the Denebians, is so high that they must wait several days before they dare approach it.”
“I begin to see what you’re getting at,” said King. “We didn’t find the shell of the bomb so someone must have removed it.”
“Exactly. And that man is the saboteur.” Thorpe glanced at the girl. “Susan, remove your gloves.” He watched as she peeled than slowly from her hands. The tiny flecks had spread until both her hands were a raw mass of ugliness. She held them before her, their swollen redness almost obscene against the smooth whiteness of her arms. Jelkson made a strangled sound in his throat and, suddenly, was beside her, his face reflecting his anxiety.
“It isn’t serious,” assured Thorpe. “We caught it in time.” He looked at the others. “Susan, for some reason, does not like wearing gloves. She handled the plants with bare hands and is now suffering from radiation burns. She was unlucky in that she handled them so soon after exposure to the radiation bomb. But the point is this, you can’t hide radioactivity. Whoever handled that exhausted bomb must have contaminated his clothing or his flesh and,” he rested his hand on the box before him, “with this scintillometer we shall find him.”
“Damn you, Thorpe!” Kenton surged to his feet his features a mask of h
ate. “Must you go through all this? You said you knew who it was. If you do know then tell us and get it over with. Who was it? Who?”
“Don’t you know?” Thorpe knew that he was being cruel but he could find no pity for the man before him. Understanding, yes. Pity, no. Men do not pity those who destroy the skaffold of their life, but, staring at the tormented face before him, he felt a sudden revulsion.
“You are the man,” he said tiredly. “You are the only man it could be.”
For a moment Kenton thought his head would burst then, as the shock passed, he felt a dull resignation steal over him. It was over. All his plotting and planning, his cleverness and desperation, all his cunning and use of his position, all was over.
He had failed.
Numbly he sat down. He was surprised to find that he had a cigarette between his fingers and he lifted it to his mouth, inhaling and exhaling with automatic gestures, not really knowing or caring what he was doing. He even listened to Thorpe as he piled up the damning evidence.
“Who else could it be?” said Thorpe. “The criminal had to be someone with three things; motive, opportunity and availability of method. Kenton is the only one with all three. He, like every other farmer, received sample radiation bombs from the manufacturers. Instead of issuing them he retained them. When we search we shall probably find the others where he has hidden them. That takes care of the availability of method, the seeds, of course, were ruined by easily obtainable spores, but only he could have destroyed the tobacco crop in such a way that it would appear to have been caused by a virus.”
“I can’t believe it,” said King sickly. “The Controller!”
“Being Controller gave him the opportunity,” continued Thorpe. “Who would question his presence anywhere in the farm? Who would even suspect him of deliberate sabotage? His position was his surest safeguard.”
Kenton became aware of the doctor looking at him. He did not return the gaze. He was thinking, not of what Thorpe was saying, but of a planet five hundred light years away, a planet of green fields and blue seas, fleecy white clouds and laughing people. Home.
