The Variable Man

by Philip K. Dick

  IV

  Three days later Joseph Dixon slid a closed-circuit message plateacross the desk to his boss.

  "Here. You might be interested in this."

  Reinhart picked the plate up slowly. "What is it? You came all the wayhere to show me this?"

  "That's right."

  "Why didn't you vidscreen it?"

  Dixon smiled grimly. "You'll understand when you decode it. It's fromProxima Centaurus."

  "Centaurus!"

  "Our counter-intelligence service. They sent it direct to me. Here,I'll decode it for you. Save you the trouble."

  Dixon came around behind Reinhart's desk. He leaned over theCommissioner's shoulder, taking hold of the plate and breaking theseal with his thumb nail.

  "Hang on," Dixon said. "This is going to hit you hard. According toour agents on Armun, the Centauran High Council has called anemergency session to deal with the problem of Terra's impendingattack. Centauran relay couriers have reported to the High Councilthat the Terran bomb Icarus is virtually complete. Work on the bombhas been rushed through final stages in the underground laboratoriesunder the Ural Range, directed by the Terran physicist PeterSherikov."

  "So I understand from Sherikov himself. Are you surprised theCentaurans know about the bomb? They have spies swarming over Terra.That's no news."

  "There's more." Dixon traced the message plate grimly, with anunsteady finger. "The Centauran relay couriers reported that PeterSherikov brought an expert mechanic out of a previous time continuumto complete the wiring of the turret!"

  Reinhart staggered, holding on tight to the desk. He closed his eyes,gasping.

  "The variable man is still alive," Dixon murmured. "I don't know how.Or why. There's nothing left of the Albertines. And how the hell didthe man get half way around the world?"

  Reinhart opened his eyes slowly, his face twisting. "Sherikov! He musthave removed him before the attack. I told Sherikov the attack wasforthcoming. I gave him the exact hour. He had to get help--from thevariable man. He couldn't meet his promise otherwise."

  Reinhart leaped up and began to pace back and forth. "I've alreadyinformed the SRB machines that the variable man has been destroyed.The machines now show the original 7-6 ratio in our favor. But theratio is based on false information."

  "Then you'll have to withdraw the false data and restore the originalsituation."

  "No." Reinhart shook his head. "I can't do that. The machines must bekept functioning. We can't allow them to jam again. It's toodangerous. If Duffe should become aware that--"

  "What are you going to do, then?" Dixon picked up the message plate."You can't leave the machines with false data. That's treason."

  "The data can't be withdrawn! Not unless equivalent data exists totake its place." Reinhart paced angrily back and forth. "Damn it, Iwas _certain_ the man was dead. This is an incredible situation. Hemust be eliminated--at any cost."

  Suddenly Reinhart stopped pacing. "The turret. It's probably finishedby this time. Correct?"

  Dixon nodded slowly in agreement. "With the variable man helping,Sherikov has undoubtedly completed work well ahead of schedule."

  Reinhart's gray eyes flickered. "Then he's no longer of any use--evento Sherikov. We could take a chance.... Even if there were activeopposition...."

  "What's this?" Dixon demanded. "What are you thinking about?"

  "How many units are ready for immediate action? How large a force canwe raise without notice?"

  "Because of the war we're mobilized on a twenty-four hour basis. Thereare seventy air units and about two hundred surface units. The balanceof the Security forces have been transferred to the line, undermilitary control."

  "Men?"

  "We have about five thousand men ready to go, still on Terra. Most ofthem in the process of being transferred to military transports. I canhold it up at any time."

  "Missiles?"

  "Fortunately, the launching tubes have not yet been disassembled.They're still here on Terra. In another few days they'll be moving outfor the Colonial fracas."

  "Then they're available for immediate use?"

  "Yes."

  "Good." Reinhart locked his hands, knotting his fingers harshlytogether in sudden decision. "That will do exactly. Unless I amcompletely wrong, Sherikov has only a half-dozen air units and nosurface cars. And only about two hundred men. Some defense shields, ofcourse--"

  "What are you planning?"

  Reinhart's face was gray and hard, like stone. "Send out orders forall available Security units to be unified under your immediatecommand. Have them ready to move by four o'clock this afternoon. We'regoing to pay a visit," Reinhart stated grimly. "A surprise visit. OnPeter Sherikov."

  * * * * *

  "Stop here," Reinhart ordered.

  The surface car slowed to a halt. Reinhart peered cautiously out,studying the horizon ahead.

  On all sides a desert of scrub grass and sand stretched out. Nothingmoved or stirred. To the right the grass and sand rose up to formimmense peaks, a range of mountains without end, disappearing finallyinto the distance. The Urals.

  "Over there," Reinhart said to Dixon, pointing. "See?"

  "No."

  "Look hard. It's difficult to spot unless you know what to look for.Vertical pipes. Some kind of vent. Or periscopes."

  Dixon saw them finally. "I would have driven past without noticing."

  "It's well concealed. The main labs are a mile down. Under the rangeitself. It's virtually impregnable. Sherikov had it built years ago,to withstand any attack. From the air, by surface cars, bombs,missiles--"

  "He must feel safe down there."

  "No doubt." Reinhart gazed up at the sky. A few faint black dots couldbe seen, moving lazily about, in broad circles. "Those aren't ours,are they? I gave orders--"

  "No. They're not ours. All our units are out of sight. Those belong toSherikov. His patrol."

  Reinhart relaxed. "Good." He reached over and flicked on the vidscreenover the board of the car. "This screen is shielded? It can't betraced?"

  "There's no way they can spot it back to us. It's non-directional."

  The screen glowed into life. Reinhart punched the combination keys andsat back to wait.

  After a time an image formed on the screen. A heavy face, bushy blackbeard and large eyes.

  Peter Sherikov gazed at Reinhart with surprised curiosity."Commissioner! Where are you calling from? What--"

  "How's the work progressing?" Reinhart broke in coldly. "Is Icarusalmost complete?"

  Sherikov beamed with expansive pride. "He's done, Commissioner. Twodays ahead of time. Icarus is ready to be launched into space. I triedto call your office, but they told me--"

  "I'm not at my office." Reinhart leaned toward the screen. "Open yourentrance tunnel at the surface. You're about to receive visitors."

  Sherikov blinked. "Visitors?"

  "I'm coming down to see you. About Icarus. Have the tunnel opened forme at once."

  "Exactly where are you, Commissioner?"

  "On the surface."

  Sherikov's eyes flickered. "Oh? But--"

  "Open up!" Reinhart snapped. He glanced at his wristwatch. "I'll be atthe entrance in five minutes. I expect to find it ready for me."

  "Of course." Sherikov nodded in bewilderment. "I'm always glad to seeyou, Commissioner. But I--"

  "Five minutes, then." Reinhart cut the circuit. The screen died. Heturned quickly to Dixon. "You stay up here, as we arranged. I'll godown with one company of police. You understand the necessity of exacttiming on this?"

  "We won't slip up. Everything's ready. All units are in their places."

  "Good." Reinhart pushed the door open for him. "You join yourdirectional staff. I'll proceed toward the tunnel entrance."

  "Good luck." Dixon leaped out of the car, onto the sandy ground. Agust of dry air swirled into the car around Reinhart. "I'll see youlater."

  Reinhart slammed the door. He turned to the group of police crouchedin the re
ar of the car, their guns held tightly. "Here we go,"Reinhart murmured. "Hold on."

  The car raced across the sandy ground, toward the tunnel entrance toSherikov's underground fortress.

  Sherikov met Reinhart at the bottom end of the tunnel, where thetunnel opened up onto the main floor of the lab.

  The big Pole approached, his hand out, beaming with pride andsatisfaction. "It's a pleasure to see you, Commissioner. This is anhistoric moment."

  Reinhart got out of the car, with his group of armed Security police."Calls for a celebration, doesn't it?" he said.

  "That's a good idea! We're two days ahead, Commissioner. The SRBmachines will be interested. The odds should change abruptly at thenews."

  "Let's go down to the lab. I want to see the control turret myself."

  A shadow crossed Sherikov's face. "I'd rather not bother the workmenright now, Commissioner. They've been under a great load, trying tocomplete the turret in time. I believe they're putting a few lastfinishes on it at this moment."

  "We can view them by vidscreen. I'm curious to see them at work. Itmust be difficult to wire such minute relays."

  Sherikov shook his head. "Sorry, Commissioner. No vidscreen on them. Iwon't allow it. This is too important. Our whole future depends onit."

  Reinhart snapped a signal to his company of police. "Put this manunder arrest."

  Sherikov blanched. His mouth fell open. The police moved quicklyaround him, their gun tubes up, jabbing into him. He was searchedrapidly, efficiently. His gun belt and concealed energy screen wereyanked off.

  "What's going on?" Sherikov demanded, some color returning to hisface. "What are you doing?"

  "You're under arrest for the duration of the war. You're relieved ofall authority. From now on one of my men will operate Designs. Whenthe war is over you'll be tried before the Council and PresidentDuffe."

  Sherikov shook his head, dazed. "I don't understand. What's this allabout? Explain it to me, Commissioner. What's happened?"

  Reinhart signalled to his police. "Get ready. We're going into thelab. We may have to shoot our way in. The variable man should be inthe area of the bomb, working on the control turret."

  Instantly Sherikov's face hardened. His black eyes glittered, alertand hostile.

  Reinhart laughed harshly. "We received a counter-intelligence reportfrom Centaurus. I'm surprised at you, Sherikov. You know theCentaurans are everywhere with their relay couriers. You should haveknown--"

  Sherikov moved. Fast. All at once he broke away from the police,throwing his massive body against them. They fell, scattering.Sherikov ran--directly at the wall. The police fired wildly. Reinhartfumbled frantically for his gun tube, pulling it up.

  Sherikov reached the wall, running head down, energy beams flashingaround him. He struck against the wall--and vanished.

  "Down!" Reinhart shouted. He dropped to his hands and knees. Allaround him his police dived for the floor. Reinhart cursed wildly,dragging himself quickly toward the door. They had to get out, andright away. Sherikov had escaped. A false wall, an energy barrier setto respond to his pressure. He had dashed through it to safety. He--

  From all sides an inferno burst, a flaming roar of death surging overthem, around them, on every side. The room was alive with blazingmasses of destruction, bouncing from wall to wall. They were caughtbetween four banks of power, all of them open to full discharge. Atrap--a death trap.

  * * * * *

  Reinhart reached the hall gasping for breath. He leaped to his feet. Afew Security police followed him. Behind them, in the flaming room,the rest of the company screamed and struggled, blasted out ofexistence by the leaping bursts of power.

  Reinhart assembled his remaining men. Already, Sherikov's guards wereforming. At one end of the corridor a snub-barreled robot gun wasmaneuvering into position. A siren wailed. Guards were running on allsides, hurrying to battle stations.

  The robot gun opened fire. Part of the corridor exploded, burstinginto fragments. Clouds of choking debris and particles swept aroundthem. Reinhart and his police retreated, moving back along thecorridor.

  They reached a junction. A second robot gun was rumbling toward them,hurrying to get within range. Reinhart fired carefully, aiming at itsdelicate control. Abruptly the gun spun convulsively. It lashedagainst the wall, smashing itself into the unyielding metal. Then itcollapsed in a heap, gears still whining and spinning.

  "Come on." Reinhart moved away, crouching and running. He glanced athis watch. _Almost time._ A few more minutes. A group of lab guardsappeared ahead of them. Reinhart fired. Behind him his police firedpast him, violet shafts of energy catching the group of guards as theyentered the corridor. The guards spilled apart, falling and twisting.Part of them settled into dust, drifting down the corridor. Reinhartmade his way toward the lab, crouching and leaping, pushing past heapsof debris and remains, followed by his men. "Come on! Don't stop!"

  * * * * *

  Suddenly from around them the booming, enlarged voice of Sherikovthundered, magnified by rows of wall speakers along the corridor.Reinhart halted, glancing around.

  "Reinhart! You haven't got a chance. You'll never get back to thesurface. Throw down your guns and give up. You're surrounded on allsides. You're a mile, under the surface."

  Reinhart threw himself into motion, pushing into billowing clouds ofparticles drifting along the corridor. "Are you sure, Sherikov?" hegrunted.

  Sherikov laughed, his harsh, metallic peals rolling in waves againstReinhart's eardrums. "I don't want to have to kill you, Commissioner.You're vital to the war: I'm sorry you found out about the variableman. I admit we overlooked the Centauran espionage as a factor inthis. But now that you know about him--"

  Suddenly Sherikov's voice broke off. A deep rumble had shaken thefloor, a lapping vibration that shuddered through the corridor.

  Reinhart sagged with relief. He peered through the clouds of debris,making out the figures on his watch. Right on time. Not a second late.

  The first of the hydrogen missiles, launched from the Councilbuildings on the other side of the world, were beginning to arrive.The attack had begun.

  At exactly six o'clock Joseph Dixon, standing on the surface fourmiles from the entrance tunnel, gave the sign to the waiting units.

  The first job was to break down Sherikov's defense screens. Themissiles had to penetrate without interference. At Dixon's signal afleet of thirty Security ships dived from a height of ten miles,swooping above the mountains, directly over the undergroundlaboratories. Within five minutes the defense screens had beensmashed, and all the tower projectors leveled flat. Now the mountainswere virtually unprotected.

  "So far so good," Dixon murmured, as he watched from his secureposition. The fleet of Security ships roared back, their work done.Across the face of the desert the police surface cars were crawlingrapidly toward the entrance tunnel, snaking from side to side.

  Meanwhile, Sherikov's counter-attack had begun to go into operation.

  Guns mounted among the hills opened fire. Vast columns of flame burstup in the path of the advancing cars. The cars hesitated andretreated, as the plain was churned up by a howling vortex, athundering chaos of explosions. Here and there a car vanished in acloud of particles. A group of cars moving away suddenly scattered,caught up by a giant wind that lashed across them and swept them upinto the air.

  Dixon gave orders to have the cannon silenced. The police air armagain swept overhead, a sullen roar of jets that shook the groundbelow. The police ships divided expertly and hurtled down on thecannon protecting the hills.

  The cannon forgot the surface cars and lifted their snouts to meet theattack. Again and again the airships came, rocking the mountains withtitanic blasts.

  The guns became silent. Their echoing boom diminished, died awayreluctantly, as bombs took critical toll of them.

  Dixon watched with satisfaction as the bombing came to an end. Theairships rose in a thick swarm, black gnats shooting
up in triumphfrom a dead carcass. They hurried back as emergency anti-aircraftrobot guns swung into position and saturated the sky with blazingpuffs of energy.

  Dixon checked his wristwatch. The missiles were already on the wayfrom North America. Only a few minutes remained.

  The surface cars, freed by the successful bombing, began to regroupfor a new frontal attack. Again they crawled forward, across theburning plain, bearing down cautiously on the battered wall ofmountains, heading toward the twisted wrecks that had been the ring ofdefense guns. Toward the entrance tunnel.

  An occasional cannon fired feebly at them. The cars came grimly on.Now, in the hollows of the hills, Sherikov's troops were hurrying tothe surface to meet the attack. The first car reached the shadow ofthe mountains....

  A deafening hail of fire burst loose. Small robot guns appearedeverywhere, needle barrels emerging from behind hidden screens, treesand shrubs, rocks, stones. The police cars were caught in a witheringcross-fire, trapped at the base of the hills.

  Down the slopes Sherikov's guards raced, toward the stalled cars.Clouds of heat rose up and boiled across the plain as the cars firedup at the running men. A robot gun dropped like a slug onto the plainand screamed toward the cars, firing as it came.

  Dixon twisted nervously. Only a few minutes. Any time, now. He shadedhis eyes and peered up at the sky. No sign of them yet. He wonderedabout Reinhart. No signal had come up from below. Clearly, Reinharthad run into trouble. No doubt there was desperate fighting going onin the maze of underground tunnels, the intricate web of passages thathoneycombed the earth below the mountains.

  In the air, Sherikov's few defense ships were taking on the policeraiders. Outnumbered, the defense ships darted rapidly, wildly,putting up a futile fight.

  Sherikov's guards streamed out onto the plain. Crouching and running,they advanced toward the stalled cars. The police airships screecheddown at them, guns thundering.

  Dixon held his breath. When the missiles arrived--

  The first missile struck. A section of the mountain vanished, turnedto smoke and foaming gasses. The wave of heat slapped Dixon across theface, spinning him around. Quickly he re-entered his ship and tookoff, shooting rapidly away from the scene. He glanced back. A secondand third missile had arrived. Great gaping pits yawned among themountains, vast sections missing like broken teeth. Now the missilescould penetrate to the underground laboratories below.

  On the ground, the surface cars halted beyond the danger area, waitingfor the missile attack to finish. When the eighth missile had struck,the cars again moved forward. No more missiles fell.

  Dixon swung his ship around, heading back toward the scene. Thelaboratory was exposed. The top sections of it had been ripped open.The laboratory lay like a tin can, torn apart by mighty explosions,its first floors visible from the air. Men and cars were pouring downinto it, fighting with the guards swarming to the surface.

  * * * * *

  Dixon watched intently. Sherikov's men were bringing up heavy guns,big robot artillery. But the police ships were diving again.Sherikov's defensive patrols had been cleaned from the sky. The policeships whined down, arcing over the exposed laboratory. Small bombsfell, whistling down, pin-pointing the artillery rising to the surfaceon the remaining lift stages.

  Abruptly Dixon's vidscreen clicked. Dixon turned toward it.

  Reinhart's features formed. "Call off the attack." His uniform wastorn. A deep bloody gash crossed his cheek. He grinned sourly atDixon, pushing his tangled hair back out of his face. "Quite a fight."

  "Sherikov--"

  "He's called off his guards. We've agreed to a truce. It's all over.No more needed." Reinhart gasped for breath, wiping grime and sweatfrom his neck. "Land your ship and come down here at once."

  "The variable man?"

  "That comes next," Reinhart said grimly. He adjusted his gun tube. "Iwant you down here, for that part. I want you to be in on the kill."

  Reinhart turned away from the vidscreen. In the corner of the roomSherikov stood silently, saying nothing. "Well?" Reinhart barked."Where is he? Where will I find him?"

  Sherikov licked his lips nervously, glancing up at Reinhart."Commissioner, are you sure--"

  "The attack has been called off. Your labs are safe. So is your life.Now it's your turn to come through." Reinhart gripped his gun, movingtoward Sherikov. "_Where is he?_"

  For a moment Sherikov hesitated. Then slowly his huge body sagged,defeated. He shook his head wearily. "All right. I'll show you wherehe is." His voice was hardly audible, a dry whisper. "Down this way.Come on."

  Reinhart followed Sherikov out of the room, into the corridor. Policeand guards were working rapidly, clearing the debris and ruins away,putting out the hydrogen fires that burned everywhere. "No tricks,Sherikov."

  "No tricks." Sherikov nodded resignedly. "Thomas Cole is by himself.In a wing lab off the main rooms."

  "Cole?"

  "The variable man. That's his name." The Pole turned his massive heada little. "He has a name."

  Reinhart waved his gun. "Hurry up. I don't want anything to go wrong.This is the part I came for."

  "You must remember something, Commissioner."

  "What is it?"

  Sherikov stopped walking. "Commissioner, nothing must happen to theglobe. The control turret. Everything depends on it, the war, ourwhole--"

  "I know. Nothing will happen to the damn thing. Let's go."

  "If it should get damaged--"

  "I'm not after the globe. I'm interested only in--in Thomas Cole."

  They came to the end of the corridor and stopped before a metal door.Sherikov nodded at the door. "In there."

  Reinhart moved back. "Open the door."

  "Open it yourself. I don't want to have anything to do with it."

  Reinhart shrugged. He stepped up to the door. Holding his gun level heraised his hand, passing it in front of the eye circuit. Nothinghappened.

  Reinhart frowned. He pushed the door with his hand. The door slidopen. Reinhart was looking into a small laboratory. He glimpsed aworkbench, tools, heaps of equipment, measuring devices, and in thecenter of the bench the transparent globe, the control turret.

  "Cole?" Reinhart advanced quickly into the room. He glanced aroundhim, suddenly alarmed. "Where--"

  The room was empty. Thomas Cole was gone.

  When the first missile struck, Cole stopped work and sat listening.

  Far off, a distant rumble rolled through the earth, shaking the floorunder him. On the bench, tools and equipment danced up and down. Apair of pliers fell crashing to the floor. A box of screws tippedover, spilling its minute contents out.

  Cole listened for a time. Presently he lifted the transparent globefrom the bench. With carefully controlled hands he held the globe up,running his fingers gently over the surface, his faded blue eyesthoughtful. Then, after a time, he placed the globe back on the bench,in its mount.

  The globe was finished. A faint glow of pride moved through thevariable man. The globe was the finest job he had ever done.

  The deep rumblings ceased. Cole became instantly alert. He jumped downfrom his stool, hurrying across the room to the door. For a moment hestood by the door listening intently. He could hear noise on the otherside, shouts, guards rushing past, dragging heavy equipment, workingfrantically.

  A rolling crash echoed down the corridor and lapped against his door.The concussion spun him around. Again a tide of energy shook the wallsand floor and sent him down on his knees.

  The lights flickered and winked out.

  Cole fumbled in the dark until he found a flashlight. Power failure.He could hear crackling flames. Abruptly the lights came on again, anugly yellow, then faded back out. Cole bent down and examined the doorwith his flashlight. A magnetic lock. Dependent on an externallyinduced electric flux. He grabbed a screwdriver and pried at the door.For a moment it held. Then it fell open.

  Cole stepped warily out into the corridor. Everything was in shambles.Guards wand
ered everywhere, burned and half-blinded. Two lay groaningunder a pile of wrecked equipment. Fused guns, reeking metal. The airwas heavy with the smell of burning wiring and plastic. A thick cloudthat choked him and made him bend double as he advanced.

  "Halt," a guard gasped feebly, struggling to rise. Cole pushed pasthim and down the corridor. Two small robot guns, still functioning,glided past him hurriedly toward the drumming chaos of battle. Hefollowed.

  At a major intersection the fight was in full swing. Sherikov's guardsfought Security police, crouched behind pillars and barricades, firingwildly, desperately. Again the whole structure shuddered as a greatbooming blast ignited some place above. Bombs? Shells?

  Cole threw himself down as a violet beam cut past his ear anddisintegrated the wall behind him. A Security policeman, wild-eyed,firing erratically. One of Sherikov's guards winged him and his gunskidded to the floor.

  A robot cannon turned toward him as he made his way past theintersection. He began to run. The cannon rolled along behind him,aiming itself uncertainly. Cole hunched over as he shambled rapidlyalong, gasping for breath. In the flickering yellow light he saw ahandful of Security police advancing, firing expertly, intent on aline of defense Sherikov's guards had hastily set up.

  The robot cannon altered its course to take them on, and Cole escapedaround a corner.

  He was in the main lab, the big chamber where Icarus himself rose, thevast squat column.

  Icarus! A solid wall of guards surrounded him, grim-faced, huggingguns and protection shields. But the Security police were leavingIcarus alone. Nobody wanted to damage him. Cole evaded a lone guardtracking him and reached the far side of the lab.

  It took him only a few seconds to find the force field generator.There was no switch. For a moment that puzzled him--and then heremembered. The guard had controlled it from his wrist.

  Too late to worry about that. With his screwdriver he unfastened theplate over the generator and ripped out the wiring in handfuls. Thegenerator came loose and he dragged it away from the wall. The screenwas off, thank God. He managed to carry the generator into a sidecorridor.

  Crouched in a heap, Cole bent over the generator, deft fingers flying.He pulled the wiring to him and laid it out on the floor, tracing thecircuits with feverish haste.

  The adaptation was easier than he had expected. The screen flowed atright angles to the wiring, for a distance of six feet. Each lead wasshielded on one side; the field radiated outward, leaving a hollowcone in the center. He ran the wiring through his belt, down histrouser legs, under his shirt, all the way to his wrists and ankles.

  He was just snatching up the heavy generator when two Security policeappeared. They raised their blasters and fired point-blank.

  Cole clicked on the screen. A vibration leaped through him thatsnapped his jaw and danced up his body. He staggered away,half-stupefied by the surging force that radiated out from him. Theviolet rays struck the field and deflected harmlessly.

  He was safe.

  He hurried on down the corridor, past a ruined gun and sprawled bodiesstill clutching blasters. Great drifting clouds of radioactiveparticles billowed around him. He edged by one cloud nervously. Guardslay everywhere, dying and dead, partly destroyed, eaten and corrodedby the hot metallic salts in the air. He had to get out--and fast.

  At the end of the corridor a whole section of the fortress was inruins. Towering flames leaped on all sides. One of the missiles hadpenetrated below ground level.

  Cole found a lift that still functioned. A load of wounded guards wasbeing raised to the surface. None of them paid any attention to him.Flames surged around the lift, licking at the wounded. Workmen weredesperately trying to get the lift into action. Cole leaped onto thelift. A moment later it began to rise, leaving the shouts and theflames behind.

  The lift emerged on the surface and Cole jumped off. A guard spottedhim and gave chase. Crouching, Cole dodged into a tangled mass oftwisted metal, still white-hot and smoking. He ran for a distance,leaping from the side of a ruined defense-screen tower, onto the fusedground and down the side of a hill. The ground was hot underfoot. Hehurried as fast as he could, gasping for breath. He came to a longslope and scrambled up the side.

  The guard who had followed was gone, lost behind in the rolling cloudsof ash that drifted from the ruins of Sherikov's underground fortress.

  Cole reached the top of the hill. For a brief moment he halted to gethis breath and figure where he was. It was almost evening. The sun wasbeginning to set. In the darkening sky a few dots still twisted androlled, black specks that abruptly burst into flame and fused outagain.

  Cole stood up cautiously, peering around him. Ruins stretched outbelow, on all sides, the furnace from which he had escaped. A chaos ofincandescent metal and debris, gutted and wrecked beyond repair. Milesof tangled rubbish and half-vaporized equipment.

  He considered. Everyone was busy putting out the fires and pulling thewounded to safety. It would be awhile before he was missed. But assoon as they realized he was gone they'd be after him. Most of thelaboratory had been destroyed. Nothing lay back that way.

  Beyond the ruins lay the great Ural peaks, the endless mountains,stretching out as far as the eye could see.

  Mountains and green forests. A wilderness. They'd never find himthere.

  Cole started along the side of the hill, walking slowly and carefully,his screen generator under his arm. Probably in the confusion he couldfind enough food and equipment to last him indefinitely. He could waituntil early morning, then circle back toward the ruins and load up.With a few tools and his own innate skill he would get along fine. Ascrewdriver, hammer, nails, odds and ends--

  A great hum sounded in his ears. It swelled to a deafening roar.Startled, Cole whirled around. A vast shape filled the sky behind him,growing each moment. Cole stood frozen, utterly transfixed. The shapethundered over him, above his head, as he stood stupidly, rooted tothe spot.

  Then, awkwardly, uncertainly, he began to run. He stumbled and felland rolled a short distance down the side of the hill. Desperately, hestruggled to hold onto the ground. His hands dug wildly, futilely,into the soft soil, trying to keep the generator under his arm at thesame time.

  A flash, and a blinding spark of light around him.

  The spark picked him up and tossed him like a dry leaf. He grunted inagony as searing fire crackled about him, a blazing inferno thatgnawed and ate hungrily through his screen. He spun dizzily and fellthrough the cloud of fire, down into a pit of darkness, a vast gulfbetween two hills. His wiring ripped off. The generator tore out ofhis grip and was lost behind. Abruptly, his force field ceased.

  Cole lay in the darkness at the bottom of the hill. His whole bodyshrieked in agony as the unholy fire played over him. He was a blazingcinder, a half-consumed ash flaming in a universe of darkness. Thepain made him twist and crawl like an insect, trying to burrow intothe ground. He screamed and shrieked and struggled to escape, to getaway from the hideous fire. To reach the curtain of darkness beyond,where it was cool and silent, where the flames couldn't crackle andeat at him.

  He reached imploringly out, into the darkness, groping feebly towardit, trying to pull himself into it. Gradually, the glowing orb thatwas his own body faded. The impenetrable chaos of night descended. Heallowed the tide to sweep over him, to extinguish the searing fire.

  Dixon landed his ship expertly, bringing it to a halt in front of anoverturned defense tower. He leaped out and hurried across the smokingground.

  From a lift Reinhart appeared, surrounded by his Security police. "Hegot away from us! He escaped!"

  "He didn't escape," Dixon answered. "I got him myself."

  Reinhart quivered violently. "What do you mean?"

  "Come along with me. Over in this direction." He and Reinhart climbedthe side of a demolished hill, both of them panting for breath. "I waslanding. I saw a figure emerge from a lift and run toward themountains, like some sort of animal. When he came out in the open Idived on him and released a phosphorus bomb
."

  "Then he's--_dead_?"

  "I don't see how anyone could have lived through a phosphorus bomb."They reached the top of the hill. Dixon halted, then pointed excitedlydown into the pit beyond the hill. "There!"

  They descended cautiously. The ground was singed and burned clean.Clouds of smoke hung heavily in the air. Occasional fires stillflickered here and there. Reinhart coughed and bent over to see. Dixonflashed on a pocket flare and set it beside the body.

  The body was charred, half destroyed by the burning phosphorus. It laymotionless, one arm over its face, mouth open, legs sprawledgrotesquely. Like some abandoned rag doll, tossed in an incineratorand consumed almost beyond recognition.

  "He's alive!" Dixon muttered. He felt around curiously. "Must have hadsome kind of protection screen. Amazing that a man could--"

  "It's him? It's really him?"

  "Fits the description." Dixon tore away a handful of burned clothing."This is the variable man. What's left of him, at least."

  Reinhart sagged with relief. "Then we've finally got him. The data isaccurate. He's no longer a factor."

  Dixon got out his blaster and released the safety catch thoughtfully."If you want, I can finish the job right now."

  At that moment Sherikov appeared, accompanied by two armed Securitypolice. He strode grimly down the hillside, black eyes snapping. "DidCole--" He broke off. "Good God."

  "Dixon got him with a phosphorus bomb," Reinhart said noncommittally."He had reached the surface and was trying to get into the mountains."

  Sherikov turned wearily away. "He was an amazing person. During theattack he managed to force the lock on his door and escape. The guardsfired at him, but nothing happened. He had rigged up some kind offorce field around him. Something he adapted."

  "Anyhow, it's over with," Reinhart answered. "Did you have SRB platesmade up on him?"

  Sherikov reached slowly into his coat. He drew out a manila envelope."Here's all the information I collected about him, while he was withme."

  "Is it complete? Everything previous has been merely fragmentary."

  "As near complete as I could make it. It includes photographs anddiagrams of the interior of the globe. The turret wiring he did forme. I haven't had a chance even to look at them." Sherikov fingeredthe envelope. "What are you going to do with Cole?"

  "Have him loaded up, taken back to the city--and officially put tosleep by the Euthanasia Ministry."

  "Legal murder?" Sherikov's lips twisted. "Why don't you simply do itright here and get it over with?"

  Reinhart grabbed the envelope and stuck it in his pocket. "I'll turnthis right over to the machines." He motioned to Dixon. "Let's go. Nowwe can notify the fleet to prepare for the attack on Centaurus." Heturned briefly back to Sherikov. "When can Icarus be launched?"

  "In an hour or so, I suppose. They're locking the control turret inplace. Assuming it functions correctly, that's all that's needed."

  "Good. I'll notify Duffe to send out the signal to the warfleet."Reinhart nodded to the police to take Sherikov to the waiting Securityship. Sherikov moved off dully, his face gray and haggard. Cole'sinert body was picked up and tossed onto a freight cart. The cartrumbled into the hold of the Security ship and the lock slid shutafter it.

  "It'll be interesting to see how the machines respond to theadditional data," Dixon said.

  "It should make quite an improvement in the odds," Reinhart agreed. Hepatted the envelope, bulging in his inside pocket. "We're two daysahead of time."

  * * * * *

  Margaret Duffe got up slowly from her desk. She pushed her chairautomatically back. "Let me get all this straight. You mean the bombis finished? Ready to go?"

  Reinhart nodded impatiently. "That's what I said. The Technicians arechecking the turret locks to make sure it's properly attached. Thelaunching will take place in half an hour."

  "Thirty minutes! Then--"

  "Then the attack can begin at once. I assume the fleet is ready foraction."

  "Of course. It's been ready for several days. But I can't believe thebomb is ready so soon." Margaret Duffe moved numbly toward the door ofher office. "This is a great day, Commissioner. An old era lies behindus. This time tomorrow Centaurus will be gone. And eventually thecolonies will be ours."

  "It's been a long climb," Reinhart murmured.

  "One thing. Your charge against Sherikov. It seems incredible that aperson of his caliber could ever--"

  "We'll discuss that later," Reinhart interrupted coldly. He pulled themanila envelope from his coat. "I haven't had an opportunity to feedthe additional data to the SRB machines. If you'll excuse me, I'll dothat now."

  * * * * *

  For a moment Margaret Duffe stood at the door. The two of them facedeach other silently, neither speaking, a faint smile on Reinhart'sthin lips, hostility in the woman's blue eyes.

  "Reinhart, sometimes I think perhaps you'll go too far. And sometimesI think you've _already_ gone too far...."

  "I'll inform you of any change in the odds showing." Reinhart strodepast her, out of the office and down the hall. He headed toward theSRB room, an intense thalamic excitement rising up inside him.

  A few moments later he entered the SRB room. He made his way to themachines. The odds 7-6 showed in the view windows. Reinhart smiled alittle. 7-6. False odds, based on incorrect information. Now theycould be removed.

  Kaplan hurried over. Reinhart handed him the envelope, and moved overto the window, gazing down at the scene below. Men and cars scurriedfrantically everywhere. Officials coming and going like ants, hurryingin all directions.

  The war was on. The signal had been sent out to the warfleet that hadwaited so long near Proxima Centaurus. A feeling of triumph racedthrough Reinhart. He had won. He had destroyed the man from the pastand broken Peter Sherikov. The war had begun as planned. Terra wasbreaking out. Reinhart smiled thinly. He had been completelysuccessful.

  "Commissioner."

  Reinhart turned slowly. "All right."

  Kaplan was standing in front of the machines, gazing down at thereading. "Commissioner--"

  Sudden alarm plucked at Reinhart. There was something in Kaplan'svoice. He hurried quickly over. "What is it?"

  Kaplan looked up at him, his face white, his eyes wide with terror.His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came.

  "_What is it?_" Reinhart demanded, chilled. He bent toward themachines, studying the reading.

  And sickened with horror.

  100-1. _Against_ Terra!

  He could not tear his gaze away from the figures. He was numb, shockedwith disbelief. 100-1. _What had happened?_ What had gone wrong? Theturret was finished, Icarus was ready, the fleet had been notified--

  There was a sudden deep buzz from outside the building. Shouts driftedup from below. Reinhart turned his head slowly toward the window, hisheart frozen with fear.

  Across the evening sky a trail moved, rising each moment. A thin lineof white. Something climbed, gaining speed each moment. On the ground,all eyes were turned toward it, awed faces peering up.

  The object gained speed. Faster and faster. Then it vanished. Icaruswas on his way. The attack had begun; it was too late to stop, now.

  And on the machines the odds read a hundred to one--for failure.

  At eight o'clock in the evening of May 15, 2136, Icarus was launchedtoward the star Centaurus. A day later, while all Terra waited, Icarusentered the star, traveling at thousands of times the speed of light.

  Nothing happened. Icarus disappeared into the star. There was noexplosion. The bomb failed to go off.

  At the same time the Terran warfleet engaged the Centauran outerfleet, sweeping down in a concentrated attack. Twenty major ships wereseized. A good part of the Centauran fleet was destroyed. Many of thecaptive systems began to revolt, in the hope of throwing off theImperial bonds.

  Two hours later the massed Centauran warfleet from Armun abruptlyappeared and joined battle. The great strug
gle illuminated half theCentauran system. Ship after ship flashed briefly and then faded toash. For a whole day the two fleets fought, strung out over millionsof miles of space. Innumerable fighting men died--on both sides.

  At last the remains of the battered Terran fleet turned and limpedtoward Armun--defeated. Little of the once impressive armada remained.A few blackened hulks, making their way uncertainly toward captivity.

  Icarus had not functioned. Centaurus had not exploded. The attack wasa failure.

  The war was over.

  "We've lost the war," Margaret Duffe said in a small voice, wonderingand awed. "It's over. Finished."

  The Council members sat in their places around the conference table,gray-haired elderly men, none of them speaking or moving. All gazed upmutely at the great stellar maps that covered two walls of thechamber.

  "I have already empowered negotiators to arrange a truce," MargaretDuffe murmured. "Orders have been sent out to Vice-Commander Jessup togive up the battle. There's no hope. Fleet Commander Carletondestroyed himself and his flagship a few minutes ago. The CentauranHigh Council has agreed to end the fighting. Their whole Empire isrotten to the core. Ready to topple of its own weight."

  Reinhart was slumped over at the table, his head in his hands. "Idon't understand.... _Why?_ Why didn't the bomb explode?" He moppedhis forehead shakily. All his poise was gone. He was trembling andbroken. "_What went wrong?_"

  Gray-faced, Dixon mumbled an answer. "The variable man must havesabotaged the turret. The SRB machines knew.... They analyzed thedata. _They knew!_ But it was too late."

  Reinhart's eyes were bleak with despair as he raised his head alittle. "I knew he'd destroy us. We're finished. A century of work andplanning." His body knotted in a spasm of furious agony. "All becauseof Sherikov!"

  * * * * *

  Margaret Duffe eyed Reinhart coldly. "Why because of Sherikov?"

  "He kept Cole alive! I wanted him killed from the start." SuddenlyReinhart jumped from his chair. His hand clutched convulsively at hisgun. "And he's _still_ alive! Even if we've lost I'm going to have thepleasure of putting a blast beam through Cole's chest!"

  "Sit down!" Margaret Duffe ordered.

  Reinhart was half way to the door. "He's still at the EuthanasiaMinistry, waiting for the official--"

  "No, he's not," Margaret Duffe said.

  Reinhart froze. He turned slowly, as if unable to believe his senses."_What?_"

  "Cole isn't at the Ministry. I ordered him transferred and yourinstructions cancelled."

  "Where--where is he?"

  There was unusual hardness in Margaret Duffe's voice as she answered."With Peter Sherikov. In the Urals. I had Sherikov's full authorityrestored. I then had Cole transferred there, put in Sherikov's safekeeping. I want to make sure Cole recovers, so we can keep our promiseto him--our promise to return him to his own time."

  Reinhart's mouth opened and closed. All the color had drained from hisface. His cheek muscles twitched spasmodically. At last he managed tospeak. "You've gone insane! The traitor responsible for Earth'sgreatest defeat--"

  "We have lost the war," Margaret Duffe stated quietly. "But this isnot a day of defeat. It is a day of victory. The most incrediblevictory Terra has ever had."

  Reinhart and Dixon were dumbfounded. "What--" Reinhart gasped. "Whatdo you--" The whole room was in an uproar. All the Council memberswere on their feet. Reinhart's words were drowned out.

  "Sherikov will explain when he gets here," Margaret Duffe's calm voicecame. "He's the one who discovered it." She looked around the chamberat the incredulous Council members. "Everyone stay in his seat. Youare all to remain here until Sherikov arrives. It's vital you hearwhat he has to say. His news transforms this whole situation."

  * * * * *

  Peter Sherikov accepted the briefcase of papers from his armedtechnician. "Thanks." He pushed his chair back and glancedthoughtfully around the Council chamber. "Is everybody ready to hearwhat I have to say?"

  "We're ready," Margaret Duffe answered. The Council members satalertly around the table. At the far end, Reinhart and Dixon watcheduneasily as the big Pole removed papers from his briefcase andcarefully examined them.

  "To begin, I recall to you the original work behind the ftl bomb.Jamison Hedge was the first human to propel an object at a speedgreater than light. As you know, that object diminished in length andgained in mass as it moved toward light speed. When it reached thatspeed it vanished. It ceased to exist in our terms. Having no lengthit could not occupy space. It rose to a different order of existence.

  "When Hedge tried to bring the object back, an explosion occurred.Hedge was killed, and all his equipment was destroyed. The force ofthe blast was beyond calculation. Hedge had placed his observationship many millions of miles away. It was not far enough, however.Originally, he had hoped his drive might be used for space travel. Butafter his death the principle was abandoned.

  "That is--until Icarus. I saw the possibilities of a bomb, anincredibly powerful bomb to destroy Centaurus and all the Empire'sforces. The reappearance of Icarus would mean the annihilation oftheir System. As Hedge had shown, the object would re-enter spacealready occupied by matter, and the cataclysm would be beyond belief."

  "But Icarus never came back," Reinhart cried. "Cole altered the wiringso the bomb kept on going. It's probably still going."

  "Wrong," Sherikov boomed. "The bomb _did_ reappear. But it didn'texplode."

  Reinhart reacted violently. "You mean--"

  "The bomb came back, dropping below the ftl speed as soon as itentered the star Proxima. But it did not explode. There was nocataclysm. It reappeared and was absorbed by the sun, turned into gasat once."

  "Why didn't it explode?" Dixon demanded.

  "Because Thomas Cole solved Hedge's problem. He found a way to bringthe ftl object back into this universe without collision. Without anexplosion. The variable man found what Hedge was after...."

  The whole Council was on its feet. A growing murmur filled thechamber, a rising pandemonium breaking out on all sides.

  "I don't believe it!" Reinhart gasped. "It isn't possible. If Colesolved Hedge's problem that would mean--" He broke off, staggered.

  "Faster than light drive can now be used for space travel," Sherikovcontinued, waving the noise down. "As Hedge intended. My men havestudied the photographs of the control turret. They don't know _how_or _why_, yet. But we have complete records of the turret. We canduplicate the wiring, as soon as the laboratories have been repaired."

  Comprehension was gradually beginning to settle over the room. "Thenit'll be possible to build ftl ships," Margaret Duffe murmured, dazed."And if we can do that--"

  "When I showed him the control turret, Cole understood its purpose.Not _my_ purpose, but the original purpose Hedge had been workingtoward. Cole realized Icarus was actually an incomplete spaceship, nota bomb at all. He saw what Hedge had seen, an ftl space drive. He setout to make Icarus work."

  "We can go _beyond_ Centaurus," Dixon muttered. His lips twisted."Then the war was trivial. We can leave the Empire completely behind.We can go beyond the galaxy."

  "The whole universe is open to us," Sherikov agreed. "Instead oftaking over an antiquated Empire, we have the entire cosmos to map andexplore, God's total creation."

  Margaret Duffe got to her feet and moved slowly toward the greatstellar maps that towered above them at the far end of the chamber.She stood for a long time, gazing up at the myriad suns, the legionsof systems, awed by what she saw.

  "Do you suppose he realized all this?" she asked suddenly. "What wecan see, here on these maps?"

  "Thomas Cole is a strange person," Sherikov said, half to himself."Apparently he has a kind of intuition about machines, the way thingsare supposed to work. An intuition more in his hands than in his head.A kind of genius, such as a painter or a pianist has. Not a scientist.He has no verbal knowledge about things, no semantic references. Hedeals with the things themselves.
Directly.

  "I doubt very much if Thomas Cole understood what would come about. Helooked into the globe, the control turret. He saw unfinished wiringand relays. He saw a job half done. An incomplete machine."

  "Something to be fixed," Margaret Duffe put in.

  "Something to be fixed. Like an artist, he saw his work ahead of him.He was interested in only one thing: turning out the best job hecould, with the skill he possessed. For us, that skill has opened up awhole universe, endless galaxies and systems to explore. Worldswithout end. Unlimited, _untouched_ worlds."

  Reinhart got unsteadily to his feet. "We better get to work. Startorganizing construction teams. Exploration crews. We'll have toreconvert from war production to ship designing. Begin the manufactureof mining and scientific instruments for survey work."

  "That's right," Margaret Duffe said. She looked reflectively up athim. "But you're not going to have anything to do with it."

  Reinhart saw the expression on her face. His hand flew to his gun andhe backed quickly toward the door. Dixon leaped up and joined him."Get back!" Reinhart shouted.

  Margaret Duffe signalled and a phalanx of Government troops closed inaround the two men. Grim-faced, efficient soldiers with magneticgrapples ready.

  Reinhart's blaster wavered--toward the Council members sitting shockedin their seats, and toward Margaret Duffe, straight at her blue eyes.Reinhart's features were distorted with insane fear. "Get back! Don'tanybody come near me or she'll be the first to get it!"

  Peter Sherikov slid from the table and with one great stride swept hisimmense bulk in front of Reinhart. His huge black-furred fist rose ina smashing arc. Reinhart sailed against the wall, struck with ringingforce and then slid slowly to the floor.

  The Government troops threw their grapples quickly around him andjerked him to his feet. His body was frozen rigid. Blood dripped fromhis mouth. He spat bits of tooth, his eyes glazed over. Dixon stooddazed, mouth open, uncomprehending, as the grapples closed around hisarms and legs.

  Reinhart's gun skidded to the floor as he was yanked toward the door.One of the elderly Council members picked the gun up and examined itcuriously. He laid it carefully on the table. "Fully loaded," hemurmured. "Ready to fire."

  Reinhart's battered face was dark with hate. "I should have killed allof you. _All_ of you!" An ugly sneer twisted across his shredded lips."If I could get my hands loose--"

  "You won't," Margaret Duffe said. "You might as well not even botherto think about it." She signalled to the troops and they pulledReinhart and Dixon roughly out of the room, two dazed figures,snarling and resentful.

  For a moment the room was silent. Then the Council members shufflednervously in their seats, beginning to breathe again.

  Sherikov came over and put his big paw on Margaret Duffe's shoulder."Are you all right, Margaret?"

  She smiled faintly. "I'm fine. Thanks...."

  Sherikov touched her soft hair briefly. Then he broke away and beganto pack up his briefcase busily. "I have to go. I'll get in touch withyou later."

  "Where are you going?" she asked hesitantly. "Can't you stay and--"

  "I have to get back to the Urals." Sherikov grinned at her over hisbushy black beard as he headed out of the room. "Some very importantbusiness to attend to."

  * * * * *

  Thomas Cole was sitting up in bed when Sherikov came to the door. Mostof his awkward, hunched-over body was sealed in a thin envelope oftransparent airproof plastic. Two robot attendants whirred ceaselesslyat his side, their leads contacting his pulse, blood-pressure,respiration, body temperature.

  Cole turned a little as the huge Pole tossed down his briefcase andseated himself on the window ledge.

  "How are you feeling?" Sherikov asked him.

  "Better."

  "You see we've quite advanced therapy. Your burns should be healed ina few months."

  "How is the war coming?"

  "The war is over."

  Cole's lips moved. "Icarus--"

  "Icarus went as expected. As _you_ expected." Sherikov leaned towardthe bed. "Cole, I promised you something. I mean to keep mypromise--as soon as you're well enough."

  "To return me to my own time?"

  "That's right. It's a relatively simple matter, now that Reinhart hasbeen removed from power. You'll be back home again, back in your owntime, your own world. We can supply you with some discs of platinum orsomething of the kind to finance your business. You'll need a newFixit truck. Tools. And clothes. A few thousand dollars ought to doit."

  Cole was silent.

  "I've already contacted histo-research," Sherikov continued. "The timebubble is ready as soon as you are. We're somewhat beholden to you, asyou probably realize. You've made it possible for us to actualize ourgreatest dream. The whole planet is seething with excitement. We'rechanging our economy over from war to--"

  "They don't resent what happened? The dud must have made an awful lotof people feel downright bad."

  "At first. But they got over it--as soon as they understood what wasahead. Too bad you won't be here to see it, Cole. A whole worldbreaking loose. Bursting out into the universe. They want me to havean ftl ship ready by the end of the week! Thousands of applicationsare already on file, men and women wanting to get in on the initialflight."

  Cole smiled a little, "There won't be any band, there. No parade orwelcoming committee waiting for them."

  "Maybe not. Maybe the first ship will wind up on some dead world,nothing but sand and dried salt. But everybody wants to go. It'salmost like a holiday. People running around and shouting and throwingthings in the streets.

  "Afraid I must get back to the labs. Lots of reconstruction work beingstarted." Sherikov dug into his bulging briefcase. "By the way.... Onelittle thing. While you're recovering here, you might like to look atthese." He tossed a handful of schematics on the bed.

  Cole picked them up slowly. "What's this?"

  "Just a little thing I designed." Sherikov arose and lumbered towardthe door. "We're realigning our political structure to eliminate anyrecurrence of the Reinhart affair. This will block any more one-manpower grabs." He jabbed a thick finger at the schematics. "It'll turnpower over to all of us, not to just a limited number one person coulddominate--the way Reinhart dominated the Council.

  "This gimmick makes it possible for citizens to raise and decideissues directly. They won't have to wait for the Council to verbalizea measure. Any citizen can transmit his will with one of these, makehis needs register on a central control that automatically responds.When a large enough segment of the population wants a certain thingdone, these little gadgets set up an active field that touches all theothers. An issue won't have to go through a formal Council. Thecitizens can express their will long before any bunch of gray-hairedold men could get around to it."

  * * * * *

  Sherikov broke off, frowning.

  "Of course," he continued slowly, "there's one little detail...."

  "What's that?"

  "I haven't been able to get a model to function. A few bugs.... Suchintricate work never was in my line." He paused at the door. "Well, Ihope I'll see you again before you go. Maybe if you feel well enoughlater on we could get together for one last talk. Maybe have dinnertogether sometime. Eh?"

  But Thomas Cole wasn't listening. He was bent over the schematics, anintense frown on his weathered face. His long fingers moved restlesslyover the schematics, tracing wiring and terminals. His lips moved ashe calculated.

  Sherikov waited a moment. Then he stepped out into the hall and softlyclosed the door after him.

  He whistled merrily as he strode off down the corridor.

 
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