Free Live Free

by Wolfe, Gene

  “This,” Reeder said. “I took my clothes off like this.”

  Barnes stared at him, and as he stared, Reeder hit him, his right fist coming up from beneath Barnes’s chin to snap his head back. Barnes’s shoulders hit the mattresses as he fell, and his glass eye rolled across the dark floor like a lopsided marble.

  Chapter 37

  TWO NOIDS

  “Wait a minute,” Stubb said. “Did you hear that?”

  Sandy asked, “Hear what?”

  Davidson said, “I didn’t hear anything, but I sure as hell saw something. I saw a little kid run across the hall down there.”

  The attendant looked at him and shook his head.

  “Don’t argue with a cop, son. I saw a little boy, maybe six or seven years old. What’s your name?”

  “Ron.”

  “Ron what?”

  “Ron Brown, sir.”

  “Well, Ron, you’ve got a kid running around your ward.” Davidson turned to Stubb and Sandy. “You two march yourselves downstairs and out of this place. You’re lucky I’m not running you in.

  “Then you, Ronny, you’re going to go find that kid I saw and bring him to me. And if you don’t, I’m coming back with a search warrant and a few good men. Understand?”

  “I want to see the guy that called my name,” Stubb told him.

  “The damned in hell want snow-cones. You get out of here, and get out fast. Take her with you.”

  Sandy looked at Stubb. “I don’t think we’ve got much choice.”

  He shrugged and followed her back to the elevator. A few of the quiet men on the benches lifted their eyes to look at them, but none stood or spoke.

  Sandy whispered, “I always thought crazy people laughed and jumped around a lot.”

  Stubb shrugged again. The elevator doors parted, and they stepped inside.

  “Who was it who called you?”

  “I’m not sure,” Stubb said. “I’m not even sure I heard my name.”

  The doors shuddered closed.

  “Are we really going to leave?”

  “Of course not,” Stubb told her.

  She smiled at him. “You’re kind of neat, Jim—you know that?”

  “I’m just doing the job. You remember the doctor’s name? The one treating Proudy?”

  “Did somebody tell us? No, I don’t think so.”

  “The woman down at the desk told Davidson. Dr. Roberts. So while Davidson’s talking to Proudy, maybe we can find Dr. Roberts and get him to let us see him later. Davidson won’t spring Proudy out of here after he’s heard him.”

  “I’m Bud Bensen,” the tall, thin doctor told them. “I’m pleased to meet you, Ms. Duck, Mr. Stubb. What can I do for you?”

  “Dr. Roberts isn’t here?” Stubb asked.

  “I’m afraid not. He should be, but he seems to have wandered off somewhere. Bob’s a brilliant young man,” Bensen’s boney face broke into the briefest of smiles, “but somewhat emotional. Nervous, you know. We had some unauthorized people going though the wards this afternoon, and I’m afraid Bob was upset.”

  “The Gypsies,” Sandy put in.

  “Yes, that, as I understand it, was what they called themselves. I didn’t talk to them personally, but I’ve been told their king—that was the word they used, king—had ordered them to search the city for somebody, and indicated this might be a likely place to find him.”

  Stubb asked, “I don’t suppose you recall the name of the guy they were looking for?”

  Dr. Bensen shook his head. “I don’t believe it was ever mentioned. Is it important?”

  “It might be. Anyway, it seems to me like this Gypsy king might have something on the ball. You wouldn’t have a Ben Free in here, would you?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know. Check with Admissions.”

  “The Gypsies will have done that already. They didn’t believe Admissions, I guess.”

  “Cross-cultural distrust.” Dr. Bensen nodded. “But it wasn’t the Gypsies you wanted to talk to me about, was it?”

  “No. We’re here about a policeman called Sergeant Proudy.” Stubb paused. “Maybe I should explain that I’m a detective. Sandy here’s a reporter.”

  Dr. Bensen nodded again. “Sergeant Proudy’s not one of my patients, I’m afraid.”

  “He’s Dr. Roberts’s, as we understand it. But we can’t find Dr. Roberts, and we have to talk to Proudy. Here’s the situation, Doctor. Proudy thinks we’re after him—”

  Dr. Bensen motioned Stubb to silence and pressed buttons, bringing a new page up on the terminal on his desk. “Yes, I see Dr. Roberts has diagnosed paranoia.”

  “So he was watching us last night. Trying to keep an eye on what he thought we were about to do. You follow me?”

  “Certainly. That type of behavior is common in these cases. Since the subject is a police officer, I would be surprised if it did not occur.”

  “But the thing was, somebody else was watching us too. Right, Sandy?”

  The short girl nodded. “We’re pretty sure of it.”

  Dr. Bensen smiled at her. “Who was it?”

  “Watching us, you mean?” She looked helplessly at Stubb.

  “We don’t know, Doctor. That’s what we’re trying to find out. You see, we think that since Proudy was watching us, he may have seen the others who were watching too.”

  “I see. Why do you think these ‘others’ feel the need to keep you under observation?”

  “We don’t know,” Stubb said.

  Sandy leaned forward. “We think we’ve stumbled into something big. If we knew who was keeping an eye on us—who besides Sergeant Proudy, I mean—we might know what it is. At least, we’d have a better idea.”

  “And what were you doing in the hotel room last night while these people were watching you?”

  “Nothing. Just talking.” Sandy looked to Stubb again.

  “Did it ever occur to you that someone might be listening? That they might even be using some form of electronic device?”

  “Not at the time.” Stubb shook his head glumly. “But then, we didn’t have any reason to think somebody might be on to us. You’re right though, Doc. There could have been. Or something could have been planted there this morning. I didn’t think of this until later, but the maid came around awfully early.”

  “You have no idea why these people are after you?”

  “No,” Stubb said.

  Sandy said, “No.”

  “Did you ever talk to Sergeant Proudy before he was brought here?”

  “Yeah, a little.”

  “Did he tell you why he was watching you?”

  “Not then. I don’t think he was, then. Later he told a friend of mine some crazy stuff, something about our wanting to rule the world.”

  “And do you?”

  “Want to rule the world?” Stubb looked astounded. “Hell, no.”

  “Why not? Surely it would be a most gratifying experience. Think of the good you could do! Besides, you could have whatever you wanted: palaces all over the world, royal guards to enforce your will, hundreds of women. Are you sure you wouldn’t want all that?”

  “Okay, it’s a deal. But I’ll tell you what—I’ll trade you my shot at the job for a conversation with Proudy.”

  “I see,” Dr Bensen said. He made a note on his pad. “Mr. Stubb, is your disinclination to rule the world based upon the feeling that you are inadequate to the task? It’s a very big job, after all.”

  “I guess you could say that.”

  “Possibly you feel you’re too short. Napoleon was a very short man too, shorter even than you are, I believe, and yet he came as near to ruling the world as anyone has in the past thousand years.”

  “Doctor, I don’t like short jokes.”

  “I wasn’t making a joke.”

  Sandy said, “Well, you were very rude.”

  “Would both of you stand, please?”

  Stubb snarled, “You go to hell.”

  “I just wanted to show you that even tho
ugh Ms. Duck wears rather moderate heels for so small a woman—no more than two inches, I would say—she is taller in them than you are.”

  “You’re bald, Dr. Bensen. You’re bald and you have bad breath. Your breath stinks, and your eyes are too close together.”

  “Only too true, I’m afraid,” the doctor said. He made another note.

  Sandy looked from one man to the other. “I didn’t come here to listen to you two trade insults—I came to talk to Sergeant Proudy. If I’m going to get to see him, I’d like to be told that. If I’m not, I’m leaving. Or do you want to start insulting me?”

  “Right, Alexandra,” Stubb muttered. “You’re short too.”

  Dr. Bensen said, “You’re correct, of course. Yes, you’re going to see your policeman.” He touched a button on his intercom. “Send up Charles Proudy, please.”

  “Thank you,” Sandy said.

  “I only wanted to see how much paranoia your friend Mr. Stubb displayed. Clearly there is some—he believes that he, and you yourself, are being observed by some mysterious ‘others.’ He has even managed to convince you of it, at least partially. Fortunately, the paranoid fantasies aren’t as well developed as I feared, although I would advise him to seek therapy.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting something, Doc?” Stubb grinned at him. “Proudy really was watching us. You said that yourself.”

  Dr. Bensen nodded. “One of the most interesting points about mental disorders is that they are communicable, although they do not originate in a virus or bacterium. This man Proudy, who is pronouncedly paranoid, judging from Dr. Roberts’s report, was watching you. You spoke to him, and the disorder was transmitted. Now you believe yourself shadowed by a sinister group, and you have at least partially convinced this young woman that your fears are grounded.”

  Sandy made a small, polite, throat-clearing sound. “I wasn’t going to say this, but one of the main reasons we’re here is that these people made a telephone call to my boss. They are real, Doctor.”

  “Do they think you want to rule the world?”

  Stubb said, “We don’t know what they think. That’s one of the things we’re trying to find out.”

  “That is what Proudy thinks, according to Dr. Roberts. He was found in the Consort West, living in a room he hadn’t rented. As he explained things to Dr. Roberts, he was observing a group of four persons who planned a world government that would supersede all national governments. He had his badge and some other police identification, together with handcuffs and a blackjack, but his service revolver was missing. He said these people had taken it from him.”

  Dr. Benson looked at Stubb, who shrugged. “Doc, I wouldn’t say his testimony is worth a hell of a lot.”

  “But you are eager to talk with him. Ms. Duck, has it ever occurred to you that the telephone call your employer got might have been made by Mr. Stubb here?”

  As though by magic, Dr. Benson’s own telephone rang. After listening for a moment he said, “Well, look again … . Of course not. Not until they have him. Neither of them can get out.” He hung up.

  “Trouble?” Stubb asked.

  The doctor nodded. “We’ve had more disturbances today than we usually see in a week. Just before lunch, a woman and a boy assaulted a receptionist—or at least the woman did. She was clearly disturbed, so we held her for observation until we could notify her family. Dr. Roberts was questioning the boy, as I understand it, when those Gypsies got in. The boy disappeared in the confusion. Now they tell me there’s a police captain down on seven looking for the boy, and the woman who brought him has been released from her restraints.”

  “He let her go, in other words?” Sandy asked.

  “It certainly looks that way. He was last seen on seven, and that’s a men’s floor; but six is a women’s floor, and there are stairs and several elevators. He’d have had to sneak past the desks on both floors, but we’re so understaffed that the nurses who ought to be on duty there are often gone.”

  “We’ve never had any trouble getting by them,” Stubb remarked. When Dr. Bensen looked at him sharply, he added, “Coming up here, I mean. We weren’t ever stopped.”

  Sandy asked, “Are the Gypsies gone?”

  “Some are still here, I think.” Dr. Benson glanced at his watch. “I can’t imagine what’s holding them up with Proudy.”

  “You were just fooling with us, weren’t you?” Sandy glanced at Stubb, then back to the doctor. “All that stuff about our catching paranoia from him. You were just passing the time.”

  He smiled. “Partly, I suppose. Let me put it this way. Virtually all normal people exhibit some pathological tendencies. If you can learn—”

  There was a knock at the door.

  “That should be Proudy now,” Dr. Bensen said.

  Chapter 38

  THREE CONSPIRATORS

  The witch’s glare would have bored holes in steel. She strained at her straitjacket like an athlete and bared her gleaming teeth like a beast.

  “You want me to give her another injection?” the nurse asked. “That first one don’t seem to have touched her.”

  Dr. Roberts shook his head. “No need to risk it.”

  “Think you can get her to talk when she’s like that?”

  “I will speak,” the witch told them. “I will tell you both what will happen to you. Your children will be taliped, their eyes dropping from their heads. They will hate you, and in the end they will kill you, cruelly and filthily, in an unclean place.” She began to speak words neither physician nor nurse understood. “Marear enkranken tober malade ammalarsi …”

  “We’ll be all right,” Dr. Roberts said. “You can go now, Nurse.”

  “Uh huh.” The nurse was still watching the witch. “Doctor, you think she’s white?”

  Dr. Roberts shrugged. “Race is largely a matter of selfclassification.”

  The nurse grinned. “Yeah, you think so, don’t you.”

  “If she told you she was white and spoke like a white, you’d probably accept her as white. If she told you she was black and spoke like a black, you’d accept her as black.”

  “Look here.” The nurse put her forearm beside the witch’s face. “She’s nearly dark as I am.”

  “I would die before I would jump into the melting pot with either one of you!” the witch snarled.

  “No foolin’, Dr. Bob. Have a look here.”

  For an instant, some minute fraction of a second, Dr. Roberts saw—or believed he saw—a metamorphosis wild as any psychotic delusion. The witch struck like a snake, and for that instant seemed a snake. There was a gleam of scales, a blow sinuous and powerful as a cut from a bullwhip.

  The nurse screamed and fell to her knees, the witch’s teeth still buried in the flesh of her arm. Blood ran from the witch’s lips, staining her canvas straitjacket and the nurse’s white uniform.

  Dr. Roberts shouted, “Orderly! Orderly!” and got both hands around the witch’s neck. Unthinkably, a bronze shoulder was writhing from the opening in the straitjacket, followed by a bronze arm.

  A fat blond nurse and a lanky red-headed orderly arrived at virtually the same moment, so that they stuck in the doorway, the nurse with her belly jammed against the jamb, the orderly caught between her billowing hips and the other side of the frame.

  “I’ll take care of this,” the fat nurse said. By then the witch had Dr. Roberts by the throat, a development the fat nurse seemed to view with satisfaction.

  “Well, shouldn’t we do something?” the orderly asked. He crouched to look at the witch, whose jaws were still locked on the black nurse’s arm. “Here now,” he said. “You let go of her.”

  The witch ignored him. Her rapt face gave the impression that her whole attention was devoted to throttling Dr. Roberts, that she continued to bite the black nurse from a sort of absence of mind.

  “Get her off,” the fat nurse said.

  “Maybe if you stuck your fingers in her eyes,” the lanky orderly suggested. He glanced around at the fat nurse
as if to see what she thought of the idea. “Hey, why are you unbuckling that?”

  The fat nurse was bent red-faced over the witch. “She’s half out of it already. We can’t get her back in without getting her all the way out, can we?” The final buckle loosed, she slipped the witch’s other arm from the straitjacket and looked at the canvas. “Have to be washed,” she said.

  Another orderly opened the door and looked in. “Everything all right here?” The fat nurse was between him and Dr. Roberts.

  “We’re taking care of it,” the lanky orderly said. “Hey, shut the hatch, will you, Mate?”

  “Okay.” The door closed softly. Dr. Roberts crumpled unconscious to the floor; the witch released him and transferred her grip to the black nurse.

  “Don’t kill her,” the fat nurse said. Other than spitting out the black nurse’s bloody arm, the witch seemed to pay no attention.

  “Jesus!” the lanky orderly muttered. “I always thought they wore stuff—you know, underwear or something—under those things.” He was staring at the witch.

  The fat nurse eyed him. “You sure you work here?”

  “I’ll level with you. This is my first day on the job.”

  “Really. Where’d you get your training?”

  “In the Navy. I just got out. I was a Navy corpsman, see, but we only had guys in our hospital. Well, a few girls—women, I mean—but the nurses always took care of them.”

  “I see,” the fat nurse said. “Where was this hospital, anyway?”

  “Norfolk. The base hospital there.”

  “You’re a phony.” She fixed him with a plump index finger. “You stay right where you are, or I’m gonna holler my head off. I want to talk to you.”

  The witch dropped the black girl. “What is the difficulty now? Nurse, I regret losing my temper with these two. It will not happen again.”

  “You can forget it, Madame Serpentina. He’s not for real. He told me he’d been a Navy medic, but they didn’t have many girls in the Norfolk Base Hospital. I spent three days with somebody from there once, and he said there were more women than men; they take dependents, so they get a ton of obstetric cases.”

  The lanky man looked sheepish. “I switched clothes with a pal and put this coat over them. They didn’t fit too good.”