He took a chair in the waiting-room, watched by three of them, while the fourth went in search of someone else. In due time, the latter returned with a white-coated, gray-haired individual who registered prompt surprise.
"Wade Harper! Well I'm blessed!"
"What's dumbfounding about it?" growled Harper. "You weren't soul-shaken last time we met, four years back."
One of the escort chipped in, saying, "If you and Doctor Leeming already know each other, you don't need an introduction. So we'll get along." He went out, taking the others with him.
Leeming explained, "My instructions were to make a check with the help of a specialist who would be brought here this morning. I was given to understand that what he says must be treated as decisive. The specialist's identity wasn't revealed." He backed off a short way, looked the other up and down. "And it's you. Four years haven't done you any good; you look older and uglier."
"So would you if you were in my britches." Harper gave a sniff of discontent, went on, "I came like royalty, under strong protection. All that rigmarole wasn't so you could hand me another problem about how to shave the whiskers off a bacillus. Moreover, my mercenary instinct tells me you aren't aiming to give me a repeat order for twelve thousand dollars' worth of apparatus. So what's this all about?"
"I'll show you." Doctor Leeming beckoned. "Come along."
Taking him through a series of corridors, Leeming conducted Harper into a long room cluttered with scientific glassware, stainless-steel instruments and, Harper swiftly noted, a few silk-lined cases of his own especial products. A young man, white-coated, bespectacled and serious, glanced up nervously as they entered.
"My assistant, Doctor Balir," introduced Leeming, "meet Wade Harper." He gestured toward a nearby micromanipulator and its array of accessories. "He's the fellow who makes this stuff."
Balir looked suitably impressed and said, "Glad to know you."
"Then you may number yourself among a select few," Harper responded.
"Take no notice," Leeming advised Balir. "He says the first thing that pops into his head."
"Hence the general ruckus," commented Harper, "seeing what's been popping of late." He stared around. "Well, why am I here?"
Leeming went to a large cabinet, took from it a photograph blown up to full-plate size, handed it over for inspection. It showed a fuzzy white sphere with a band of slight discoloration across its middle.
"A picture of the planet Jupiter," Harper hazarded, momentarily too preoccupied to check his guess by mental probing.
"On the contrary," informed Leeming, "it is something far smaller, though massive enough as such things go. That's an electron-microscope's view of a protein molecule."
"If you want to dissect it, you're right out of luck. I can't get down to any method of handling things that tiny."
"More's the pity," said Leeming. "But that's not what we're after."
Returning the photo to the cabinet, he turned to a heavy steel safe set in the wall. Opening it carefully, he took out a transparent plastic sealed container in which was a wadded test rube one quarter filled with a clear-colorless liquid.
"This," he announced, "is the same thing multiplied a millionfold. Does it mean anything to you?"
Harper peered at the fluid. "Not a thing."
"Consider carefully," Leeming advised, "because to the best of our belief this is still alive."
"Alive?"
"By that, I mean potent. It is a virus extracted from the brainpans and spinal cords of certain bodies."
"A recognizable virus?"
"No."
"Filterable?"
"We did not attempt to filter it; we isolated it by a new centrifugal process."
"Then if it's not dead, it's still dizzy from being whirled," said Harper. "Let me try again when it has come to its senses."
"Ah! That's precisely what we want to know. Has it any senses? My information is that you, and you alone, can tell us." He frowned and continued, "I have my orders which say that if this virus is innocuous, it means either that it has been rendered so by processing and isolation or, alternatively, that we're on the wrong track and must start all over again."
Harper said, "Anyway, you don't have to stand there holding it out at arm's length. Put it back. It will make not the slightest difference to my ability to weigh it up. If that stuff were willing and able to advertise its suspected nature, I could have told you about it in the waiting-room, without bothering to come this near."
Doing as bidden, Leeming fastened the steel safe, spread expressive hands, "So we're no farther than at the beginning?"
"Not necessarily," Harper replied. Leaning against a lab bench, he put on a musing expression while he picked the minds of both Leeming and Balir. Then he said, "You've been told that three space-explorers have returned from Venus, afflicted with a possessive disease which is spreading. They have sent you bodies of known victims, starting with a girl named Joyce Whittingham. Your job is to isolate what's doing it, learn its nature and, if possible, devise a cure."
"Correct," admitted Leeming. "It's top secret information; evidently you've been given it, too."
"Given it? I took it with both hands. And it was like pulling teeth." Harper leaned forward, eyed him intently. "Are you positive that you have extracted the real cause in the form of that virus?"
"I was fairly certain — until your arrival; now I'm not."
"What made you so sure?"
"No words of mine can tell you how thoroughly we've dealt with those corpses. We've had our leading experts on the job twenty-four hours per day and they've done it down to the last fragment of flesh, blood, bone, skin and hair. All we've got to show for it is a formerly unknown virus. That could be it. That should be it." He paused, finished, "But according to you, it isn't."
"I haven't said so."
"You said it meant nothing to you."
"Neither does it — in its present state." Harper hesitated, then continued, "I have the peculiar power to recognize persons afflicted with this disease. If they haven't told you how I can do it, I cannot either. However, I can tell you one thing."
"What's that?"
"I recognize the symptoms; you're asking me to put a finger on the cause. It's not the same thing, not by a long shot. So far as I'm concerned, it's a quite different problem."
"Well, can you help with any suggestions?" asked Leeming.
"I can give you my ideas. It's up to you to decide whether they make sense or nonsense."
"Let's have them. We need every angle we can get."
"All right. Understand that I'm not criticizing you people in any way when I say that I think the authorities rushed me here because they'd jumped to a silly conclusion."
"What conclusion?"
"That you can undress when you're stark naked. That you can swim without water. That you can pedal down the road without a bicycle between your legs."
"Be more explicit," Leeming suggested.
"You can't be a disease when you've nothing to work upon. You can't run without legs, talk without a mouth, think without brains. If that stuff is what you believe it to be, and what for all I know it really may be, it's hamstrung, tied up, fastened down, gagged, slugged and bollixed. It is, therefore, no more than what it appears to be, namely, a dollop of goo. Its power, if any, has ceased to be actual and become only potential. I can detect an actuality, but I can't sit in judgment upon potentiality, any more than I can read the future."
"I see what you mean." Leeming put on a slow smile. "You don't give us credit for overmuch intelligence, do you?"
"I haven't defined you as stupid. I'm merely theorizing about my own inability to help."
"All right." Leeming waved a hand toward the steel safe. "That's not all we've got; it's only half of it. We used the rest for a time-honored purpose: we tried it on the dog."
"You mean you've actually squirted it into someone?"
"Yes — a dog, as I've said."
Harper gazed at him defeatedl
y. In all his life he had never picked up a thought radiating from any of the lower animals. Telepathically, the dogs and cats, the birds and bees just did not exist.
"What happened to it?"
"It lived. It's still living. Like to see it?"
"Yes, I would."
14. More Than Canine
The dog proved to be a black Labrador retriever, imprisoned in a heavy cage apparently commandeered from a circus or from some nearby zoo. The cage had a steel floor and heavy steel bars on all sides and across the top, also a sliding mid-gate by means of which the animal could be pinned in one half of its quarters while the other half was being cleaned, its food and water bowls replenished.
Noticing the approaching pair, the dog turned to face them, pawed at the bars, wagged its tail vigorously and emitted a pleading whine. A perfect picture of canine friendliness, it concentrated its attention particularly upon Harper, subjecting him to all the appeal of a pet-shop pup begging to be bought.
"Any comments?" inquired Leeming.
"If appearance is anything to go by, you injected it. with nothing more dangerous than water."
"Within the limits of that condition, I agree; but can we place faith in appearances? You've said that you can recognize an actuality. Well, this dog is actual enough. So what is your diagnosis?"
"I can't give one," said Harper. "My power functions only with respect to a two-legged creature very much like myself, but less hairy."
"H'm!" Leeming eyed the Labrador, which now was standing on its hind legs, forepaws against bars, and openly inviting Harper to take it out for a walk. He frowned deeply, said, "Notice how all its attention is on you, and how it is ignoring me?"
"That's natural. I'd prefer me to you if I were a dog."
"I'm not joking," Leeming assured him. "I'm deadly serious."
"Why?"
"We shot a dose of virus into that animal at noon yesterday. We did it in that cage, got out fast and watched results from this side the bars."
"And what happened?"
"It behaved normally at first, licked the spot where we'd inserted the needle, wandered aimlessly around and threw us those looks of bewildered reproof which some dogs give when they think they've been kicked for nothing. After four minutes it collapsed and had a violent fit, during which its body jerked spasmodically, it foamed at the mouth and gave muffled yelps."
"After that?"
"It recovered with surprising swiftness," Leeming detailed. "It went ten times around the cage, examining every part of it and obviously seeking a means of escape. Finding none, it snarled at Balir, who happened to be standing nearest. It gave a display of ferocious hatred that had to be seen to be believed. Water or not, it certainly wasn't the same dog as before."
"It seems mild enough now," Harper pointed out.
"I know; and that is highly significant, I believe. It raged against Balir, then it turned its fury upon me. For a couple of hours it gave a display of maniac enmity toward anyone and everyone who came in sight. The emotional reaction to entrapment, see?"
"Could be."
"But after those couple of hours it changed character with the swift dexterity of an actor changing costumes between acts. The hatred vanished. The dog did its darnedest to ingratiate itself with Balir and put on so good a performance that he began to pity it. Knowing or sensing the effect, it redoubled its efforts to gain his friendship. However, Balir is a scientist. He refused to let himself be influenced by irrational sentiment; therefore he did not respond."
"What did it do next?"
"It transferred its cajoling to me. I'll admit without shame that I had moments of feeling sorry for it — until I remembered that my sympathy could be expressed in only two ways — namely, to get within reach and fondle it, which might be most dangerous, or to release it, which could well be downright disastrous. So I remained hard."
"Is that all?"
"No. Early this morning it tried all its best tricks on Jim Calthorpe, who tends to its feeding. Calthorpe had been warned to use the slide-gate and keep out of the dog's reach no matter what. He refused to respond to its overtures. Now it is picking on you in your turn." Leeming glanced at the other and asked, "What do you deduce from such behavior?"
"Constructive thought," Harper replied. "It has satisfied itself that escape is impossible without help; its only chance is to find a weakling who'll co-operate. So it is testing the various candidates in order of arrival."
"That's what I suspect. But if we are correct, if it is being purposefully selective in its appeals, isn't that just a bit too clever for the average dog?"
"I don't know; I really don't know. As I told you before, I am no expert on dogs. All I do know is that some dogs are alleged to be mighty smart, and quite capable of coping with moderately complicated problems. 'Almost human' is the conventional description for them."
"Yes, but the exceptionally intelligent dog has developed its mental status almost from birth. It hasn't acquired it all of a sudden, like being fitted with a new collar."
"Well?"
"This particular animal was as average a specimen as you could find in a long day's march. Now it's better than average. It has jumped from Dog I.Q. 60 to Dog I.Q. 100 or more. That is somewhat alarming in view of the circumstances. It points to a conclusion we hoped you could confirm. We are going to have a difficult time proving it without your help."
"There's a satisfactory way out," Harper suggested, "if anyone has the guts to take it."
"And what may that be?"
"Knock off that hound, recover the hell-juice from it, re-squirt it into a human being and I can tell you positively whether or not you have tracked down and isolated the real cause of all the trouble."
"Unthinkable!" Leeming said.
"Don't talk silly," Harper reproved. "How can it be unthinkable, seeing that I've thought of it?"
"You know what I mean. We cannot subject a fellow being to such a drastic test."
"It's a bit late for science to start taking count of moral consideration; the time for that was fifty years ago. Today, one more dirty trick will pass unnoticed. The public has become used to the idea that we've all degenerated into a bunch of guinea pigs."
Leeming let that pass with no more than a disapproving frown, then said, "It might be all right if we could get a volunteer. But where are we going to find one? Would you offer your body for this?"
"I would not. And even if I were daft enough to submit, I would not be permitted to do so. Uncle Sam thinks me too precious to lose." He tapped Leeming's chest with a heavy forefinger. "And that fact alone suggests where you may get your experimental carcass — namely, from among those who aren't precious, those whose loss won't matter a hoot to anyone, even to themselves."
"What do you mean?"
"There are thugs in the death house waiting to be hanged, electrocuted or gassed. Offer any of them the one-in-a-thou-sand chance to gain release and watch him jump at it. Tell him that you want him to take a squirt. If he goes under-well, he's facing death as it is. But if you can cure him, he'll be given a pardon and freed. Maybe Old Whiskers will find him a government job as a reward for public service."
"I have no authority to make such an extrajudicial bargain."
"Somebody has; find that somebody and keep kicking his pants until he wakes up."
"I doubt whether anyone less than the President could do it, and even he'd have to stretch his powers to the limit."
"All right; then chivvy the President. If you don't go after him, somebody else will — and for a more formidable purpose."
"Look, Wade, talk comes cheap. Performance is a different matter altogether. Have you ever tried moving the top brass?"
"Yes."
"How far did you get?" Leeming asked with interest.
"I reached General Conway and got him on the hop good and proper. Come to think of it, he's the boy to ask. Tell him exactly what's happened here, what I've said to you, what you want to do about it. Tell him your test-subject must be
a man and nothing less than a man. Dump the problem right in his lap and tell him that, so far as you're concerned, he's stuck with it. He won't nurse it any longer than he can help, you can bet on that!"
Harper studied the dog again while letting Leeming think it over. The Labrador whined, made pawing motions between the bars. It looked every inch a dog and nothing else save a dog. But that was no proof for or against. Elsewhere slunk creatures who bore equally close resemblance to people, but who were not people. The number one question: was this animal still a mere dog or had it become in effect a weredog?
He tried to listen to its mind as it begged his attention and he heard precisely nothing. A blank, a complete blank. His natural range of reception just wasn't wide enough to pick up emanations from other than his own species. He switched from listening and probed at it sharply, fiercely, in a manner that had brought immediate reaction from hiders in human shape. It had no effect upon the dog, which continued its fawning, with obvious unconsciousness of his mental stabbing.
Leeming broke into his meditation by saying, "I don't like it and I don't think I'll get away with it. Nevertheless I am willing to bait Conway, providing you're standing by to back me up. He might listen to you when he won't to me."
"You don't know until you've tried."
"Let's go to my office," suggested Leeming. "You get hold of him, then I'll see what can be done."
* * *
Harper called Jameson first, said, "I'm at the Biological Research Laboratories, as probably you are aware, you having had something to do with bringing me here. I'm going to put through a call to General Conway. Doctor Leeming wants a brief talk with him."
"Then why get on to me?" Jameson asked.
"Because I've tried to reach Conway before, remember? Neither Leeming nor I have the time or patience to be bollixed around by every underling in Washington. It's up to you to tell them to shove my call straight through."
"See here, Harper—"
"Shut up!" Harper ordered. "You've used me plenty. Now I'm using you. Get busy and do as you're told."
He slammed the instrument onto its rack, sat down in a handy chair, scowled at the phone and snorted.
Three to Conquer Page 13
