Sub-Zero

by Robert W. Walker

  But the man standing over them shouted down. “Just keep coming.” And then to Gary, “You too, kid.”

  25

  When Marie did not show up after almost an hour, Tim gave up his vigil. He turned out the light as he left the empty, little switchboard room. He spent some time going about the floor, pulling open doors. He glanced in both the men’s room and the women’s. But it was no use. He checked any janitorial closets that might be unlocked. He had a terrible fear that she’d been killed by whoever killed Gordy, and who was presently stalking the building for Wertman. He feared she might be stabbed and helpless, or raped and thrown in some dingy corner of the building.

  He’d come down the stairwell on the north end of the building from the thirtieth floor. He decided to take a little used and little known stairwell, near the south end of the corridor, back up to the thirtieth floor, and perhaps beyond. He took the stairs two at a time. After having reached floor thirty, he abandoned the stairs and his search, and decided to go straight to Wertman’s newsroom. He was going to have it out with Wertman. He wanted to know why Joraski was after him, and he hoped some answers would lead to Marie’s whereabouts. He half expected to find her in the cafeteria as he passed by it once more. He had every reason to believe he might bump into her as she got off the elevator there. But when the doors opened and half a dozen people got off, she was not among them.

  Moments later, at Mark Wertman’s office, Tim was angry enough to put his fist through the wall. When he got off the elevator there was no one around. He marched for Wertman’s private office, banged loudly on the door, and entered.

  Wertman and Joanna were sitting on the couch having a drink. It seemed to be a scene that might have made sense sometime before, but Tim thought they looked ridiculously calm. Of course, they didn’t know about Marie, or how drained he was, both physically and mentally.

  “Tim!” said Joanna, rising and going to him. “You look frightful.”

  “Have a drink, Crocker?” asked Wertman matter-of-factly.

  Tim didn’t answer right away. He stared into Joanna’s eyes for a moment, a look of curious defeat on his face. What he’d come to do, beat the truth out of Wertman, he was neither wide awake enough nor strong enough to do right now. “Scotch and rocks,” he answered Mark.

  “I want to thank you for saving my life, Tim,” Joanna said, marching him to the couch. “I’m feeling fine now.”

  “I’m sure the liquor is just what the doctor would prescribe,” said Tim sarcastically. “Why is it that I feel like I’m being conned, Wertman?”

  Wertman looked up from the drink he was mixing. “I don’t follow you, Cracker.”

  “Are you in on this thing with him, Joanna?”

  Joanna looked shocked. She backed a little away from him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tim.”

  “I’m talking about one dead man on Fieldcrest’s payroll who happens to be a retired cop, and who happens to be protecting Wertman’s body! I’m talking about another dead man named Joraski who was out to kill this man for some unknown and mysterious reason, and I’m talking about a missing woman, someone I think a lot about, who’s somehow mixed up in this,” Tim began to rant and walk about the room. “Not to mention the fact that Wertman’s also being looked out for by the Chief of Police! I want to know what’s so hot about you, Dr. Wertman?”

  “You’ve summed up the situation very well, young man,” came a voice from behind Tim.

  A man in a dark coat sauntered into the room, forcing George Walsh and Gary Hornell ahead of him, and indicating to the other two where they might sit. “Kennelly’s my name. Mr. Crocker, isn’t it? I guess you fooled me over the phone. I thought you knew something about our fair-haired boy, Dr. Wertman.”

  “What do you know about him? Why is he so high up on your list?” asked Tim directly.

  “Here,” said Wertman to Crocker, pushing his drink in his hand, “Take this and cool down, will you?”

  “He’s not so high up on my list,” said Kennelly, giving Mark Wertman a casual glance.

  “Are you going to tell me he’s just another citizen in need of protection,” said Tim sarcastically.

  “I don’t know quite what’s so important about him. I do my job. Part of my job means taking orders. The Governor gets a he gives me a call, so we protect Wertman. I farmed the job out to Harold Gordon, I didn’t have the men to spare and Gordy, well, he could use the extra scratch. He still had a mother to support, y’all know. Someplace called Crest Haven or Rest Haven. It was costing him a bundle to keep her there.”

  Kennelly was a staunch, hefty man, his arms bulging at his enormous sides. He seemed to have a perpetual half smile on his wide, square face. He might easily be mistaken for the local sheriff in a town the size of Dundee or Carpentersville. He kept inserting and pulling out a cigar which was unlit.

  Kennelly pointed over to Walsh and Gary. “I found these two down in the boiler room, snooping around. I’d followed someone else there but lost whoever it was. Walsh and the kid here have filled me in on everything that’s happened since your call, Wertman. It looks like someone tampered with the heating system, and whoever it was knew several things not just anyone would.”

  Kennelly made a dramatic sweep of his arm when he again snatched out his unlit cigar. “The killer is no stranger to either Fieldcrest Building or the habits of our good weatherman.”

  “Then it’s not just some lunatic on a binge. a hate weathermen fixation?” asked Joanna in surprise. “Mark’s thought that all along. He was just telling me so.”

  Kennelly seemed only now to notice that the end of his cigar was burnt out. He pulled out a lighter and relit it. Taking his time, he looked about for an ashtray; one was handed to him by Gary Hornell. He continued, “The killer knows enough about computers to program that thing downstairs to kill. He also knew about the best kept secret in all of Fieldcrest Enterprises, that the heating system is run on nuclear power.”

  “What?” asked Joanna.

  “That’s impossible!” cried Wertman.

  “1 see you got a lot of information from my two able assistants,” said Tim, indicating Walsh and Hornell.

  “They are both bright men, Mr. Crocker. They want to help the police any way they can. I find such good citizens are rare these days,” said Kennelly, the smile continuing. “Now, then, the killer also knew that Wertman’s Environment Box was tied into the heating and air filtration system. He also knew there was a pattern to Wertman’s use of the Enviro-box there. When do you usually use it, Dr. Wertman?”

  “Before air time, every evening,” said Mark. “Whoever wanted you dead knew this fact also.” “I used it instead,” remarked Joanna.

  “The killer couldn’t know Wertman would change his habits, or that you would take his place at precisely the same time,” said Kennelly. “The killer’s plan, I’m sure, was to remove the program from the system after Wertman’s demise in the box. The killer is as trapped here as we are. I don’t believe it was the intention of anyone to kill all of us slowly by asphyxiation. I think the person I saw going toward the boiler room was out to retrieve the deadly chip, which, I’m told is in your pocket, Mr. Crocker.”

  “Yes, I didn’t want it used again.” “May I have it?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Not really of much use now, except in evidence, . though I’m sure the only fingerprints we find will be yours or Walsh’s,” answered Kennelly, taking the tiny printed circuit board. He examined it a moment. “Small but deadly.”

  “Can you be so certain that the killer didn’t wish me dead along with Mark’?” asked Joanna Sommers.

  “You are in a fine position to be the killer, Miss Sommers,” said Kennelly, shocking her. “You would have known just how much oxygen loss over a period of time you had in the Enviro-box, and if you weren’t rescued in time. the timer would have opened the door.

  You set the dials. You have access to this office, and to Wertman’s innermost thoughts, his routin
e. I can see you as a possible suspect but not as an intended victim.”

  “Well I can!” Joanna snapped back at him. She described the telephone calls she’d received over the past few months.

  When Joanna was through, Tim sat repeating the phrase, “Examine the Iceman.”

  “Why didn’t you report these calls, Miss Sommers?” asked Kennelly in an officious manner.

  “They stopped,” she answered. “Besides, I went after the story, to see if there was anything to it and there wasn’t. At least, I didn’t think there was.”

  “It’s nonsense,” said Mark Wertman from across the room at the bar where he mixed himself another drink.

  “After I got to know Mark better, I confided in him about the telephone calls. I didn’t know he was getting threatening calls also,” continued Joanna, and turning to stare at Mark, her voice quivering a little, “He didn’t confide in me.”

  “You guessed that something was wrong though,” said Kennelly.

  “Yes, I knew he’d changed. And the calls, I could never truly put them out of my mind. The sound of the voice on the other end. A man’s voice and not a man’s voice. It was not even a woman’s voice.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Kennelly.

  “It was real. The emotions, the highs and lows were there, but they seemed to be filtered through something. The voice was strained and garbled. The person who made those calls was quite mad.”

  “Could it have been a machine?” asked Kennelly. “Or a number of rumbling machines.”

  “Those calls were made from the boiler room,” said Kennelly with finality.

  “In the office down there,” shouted Gary in excitement.

  “We’ve got to know who was programming that reactor,” said Tim.

  “There ought to be a guard on duty down there to make sure it’s not tampered with again. Once the killer knows Wertman is still alive, he’ll try it again,” said Kennelly.

  “Worse, he might go completely overboard and blow this whole damn place up,” said Tim.

  “You’re all talking as if Joraski were still alive,” Mark Wertman shouted at them. “He was the killer and now he is dead.”

  “I had Joraski checked out at headquarters before I left, from the information you gave me in his wallet. He was a scientist, living in Leningrad. For the past several years he’s been in an institution for the insane over there. Shame of it all is that he once won some notable honors, just went off the deep end, cracked, as they say.”

  “Then it fits. He was insane. He got some idea in his head to kill me,” Mark said.

  “Doesn’t seem likely, Mr. Wertman, unless he had an accomplice. Walsh here knows something about these computer chips. It seems the reactor down there can tell us when the program is changed to the minute and day. J ora ski was long dead when the killer tried to ice you in the hot box.”

  “Then what was Joraski’s reason for pointing that gun at me?” said Wertman in anger.

  “Like I said,” answered Kennelly, “maybe there’s a conspiracy on. Maybe a lot of people want you dead. Or maybe that poor slob was trying to shoot himself with that gun and you got in the way. From the looks of him, that’s what I’d have done, shoot myself.”

  “So, it’s not any simple matter,” said Joanna Sommers. “What else did you find out about Herr Joraski?” said Tim.

  “U sual stuff. Plane reservations, room reservations, telephone calls. He knew someone here. He’s called into this building on a number of occasions.”

  “What kind of a scientist was he?” asked Tim. “What do you think?”

  “Weather? A meteorologist?” asked Tim.

  “Not exactly. He was a specialist with the Iceman Experiments years ago. His specialty was geophysics and ice age phenomena.”

  “Why does the Iceman keep coming up?” Tim asked everyone in the room and turning to Mark Wertman, “Do you have an answer, Dr. Wertman?”

  Wertman slammed down his drink, spilling the contents over the bar. “The Iceman was a straightforward, routine sea and land project, covering weather experimentation. There’s nothing out of the ordinary about it. It was no larger in scale than South Pacific studies, Atlantic Ocean studies, or a dozen others from GATE, GARP, NATO-SEA, to diving for hidden treasure!”

  There was a long silence. Joanna and Tim stared into Mark’s eyes. There seemed to be something insincere about his outburst. Tim knew he was lying about something. Joanna wondered what it was he was hiding. Silently, she cursed herself for not having been more of a reporter around him.

  “There’s something missing, something right under our noses,” said Tim, standing again. “I can feel it.”

  “There seems to be only one person who can tell us why he is a killer,” said Kennelly calmly. “We’ll have to flush him out. How long before you go on the air, Wertman?”

  “Half hour, forty minutes, I’m told,” Mark answered. “They keep losing power, but I’m sure all’s well now.”

  “Good. We have time to make some plans. Take me down to the place where you do it all.”

  Kennelly and Wertman left the office for a moment. Kennelly returned and gave Walsh and Hornell a signal. George and Gary went outside the office as well.

  Tim found himself alone with Joanna. She looked away from his intense gaze.

  “I haven’t thanked you.” “Thanked me?” he asked.

  “You’re too cavalier for your own good! For saving my life. For getting me safely out of there!” She pointed to the Enviro-box.

  “Mark actually pulled you free. I was kind of handicapped with these,” he answered, holding up his hands.

  “You got those downstairs in the Security Chiefs office,” she said. “I’m sorry we didn’t wait for you down there. It was so awful.”

  “That’s all right,” Tim had come around the couch to face her. He yawned heavily and sat down beside her.

  “Tim, you think Mark’s hiding something, don’t you?” “I’d stake my career on it.”

  “You might have to. It involves a call from the White House.”

  “The White House? Hey, that’s a pretty far out assumption to make on the basis of what that fat cop said about phone calls from the Governor.”

  “No. It was while you were out. Mark got a call. 1 couldn’t make it out entirely. But he was talking to someone in the White House.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “1 listened at the door. He ended with ‘Tell the President everything is all right.”

  “Did you hear anything else?”

  She shook her head to indicate yes. “What?”

  “Something like, ‘The World Control knows that! The members are agreed. There’s no other solution. Earth Two is all that can be hoped for.’’’

  “Earth Two?”

  “Yes. Sounds frightful doesn’t it?”

  He nodded and repeated the words. “World Control? No other solution? The members are agreed?”

  Joanna clasped his hands in hers. “I’m afraid, Tim.” “Not knowing makes me nervous too. Take it easy.” “I was such a fool. I’ve believed in him all this time. Instead of doing my job, I let him sidetrack me, and into bed of all places!”

  “Hey, take it easy on yourself, Joanna,” Tim held her, and brushed back her yellow hair. He felt warm tears against his cheek.

  “There are a lot of stones to turn up around here, Joanna. Stay with me now, don’t fall apart and don’t sell yourself short. We’ve all made fools of ourselves in this business, and you know yourself: reporters are always being conned or used! At least he wasn’t using you, and I really do think he loves you.”

  She raised her head Their eyes met. “Tim,” she said, “kiss me.”

  He swallowed hard. He felt a little off guard. This was all too much like a movie scenario for him. But she closed her eyes and raised her lips. Tim could not resist. He pressed his lips to hers and tasted her tongue in his mouth. She was burning, passionate. He felt a sensation not unlike holding a powerful electrica
l tool and being thoroughly vibrated by it. He knew she would be good in bed.

  “God,” he whispered in her ear as they embraced, “I wish I knew where we could go.”

  “My place,” she whispered in return.

  “Your place? You live in Highland Park, don’t you?” “1 have a Pullman apartment in the building! Come on.”

  She stood over him and pulled him up. He smiled like a schoolboy, saying, “I don’t believe it.”

  “Believe it,” she answered. “Believe it and come with me!”