Three to Conquer

by Eric Frank Russell

  Leeming said apprehensively, "Who is this Jameson?"

  "A big cheese in the F.B.I."

  "And you tell him where he gets off?"

  "It's the first time," said Harper, "and from what I know of him, it'll also be the last."

  His call went through, a youthful face appeared in his instrument's visiscreen.

  "My name is Wade Harper," he told the face. "I want to speak to General Conway and it's urgent."

  "Just a moment, please." The face went away, was replaced by another, older, more officious.

  "About what do you wish to talk to the General?" inquired the newcomer.

  "What's it to you?" demanded Harper toughly. "Go straight to Connie and find out, once and for all, whether or not he will condescend to have a word with me."

  "I'm afraid I cannot do that unless I can first brief him on the subject matter of your—" The face ceased talking, glanced sidewise, said hurriedly, "Pardon me a moment," and disappeared. A few seconds later it returned, wearing a startled expression. "Hold on, Mr. Harper. We're switching you through as speedily as possible."

  Harper grinned at the now-empty screen, which registered eccentric patterns as the line was switched through intercom-boards, then cleared and held General Conway's austere features.

  "What is it, Mr. Harper?"

  Giving a short, succinct explanation, Harper handed the phone to Leeming, who detailed the current state of affairs, ending by expressing his need for a human subject and the hope that Conway could do something about it.

  "I disapprove such a tactic," declared Conway flatly.

  Leeming reddened. "In that case. General, we can make no more progress. We are balked."

  "Nonsense, man! I appreciate your desire and the ingenuity of what you suggest. But I cannot spend valuable hours seeking some legal means of making use of a condemned felon, when such a move is superfluous and unnecessary."

  "I make the request only because I deem it necessary," Leeming pointed out.

  "You are wrong. You have been sent four bodies of known victims. Two more have become available today, and you will receive them shortly. With the spread of this peril, and the increase in number of people affected, it becomes inevitable that before long we shall succeed in capturing one alive. What more could you want than that?"

  Leeming sighed and persisted patiently, "A live victim would help but not conclusively. The most incontrovertible proof of a cause is a demonstration that it creates the characteristic effect. I cannot demonstrate contagion with the aid a subject already riddled with it."

  "Perhaps not," agreed Conway. "But such a subject, being more communicative than a dog, can be compelled to identify the cause himself. It should not be beyond your wits to devise a suitable technique for enforcing what might be termed self-betrayal."

  "Offhand, I can think of only one way to achieve that," Leeming said. "And the trouble with it is that it's likely to be long and tedious, and it will mean considerable working in the dark."

  "What method?"

  "Assuming that this virus is the true cause — which is still a matter of doubt — we must seek an effective antigen. Our proof will then rest upon our ability to cure the live specimen. If we fail—"

  "A cure has got to be found," asserted Conway. "Somehow, anyhow. The only alternative is long-term, systematic extermination of all victims on an eventual scale that none dare contemplate. Indeed, we could well be faced by a majority problem far too large for a minority to overcome; in which case the minority is doomed, and humanity along with it."

  "And you think that the life of one hardened criminal is too high a price to pay for freedom from that fate?" asked Leeming shrewdly.

  "I think nothing of the sort," Conway contradicted. "I would unhesitatingly sacrifice the entire populations of our prisons had I the power to do so, and were I convinced that it was our only hope. But I have not the power and I am not convinced of the necessity."

  "Let me speak to him," urged Harper, seeing Leeming's look of despair. He got the phone, gazed belligerently at the face in the screen knowing that it was now looking at his own. "General Conway, you say you lack the power and you're not persuaded?"

  "That is correct," Conway agreed.

  "The President, if consulted, might think differently. He has the necessary authority — or, if not, can obtain it. Aren't you usurping his right to make a decision about this?"

  "Usurping?" Conway repeated the word as if it were the ultimate in insults. He gathered himself together with visible effort, spoke in tones of restraint, "The President cannot work more than twenty-four hours per day. Therefore he deputes certain of his powers and responsibilities. I am now exercising some of the authority so assigned."

  "By virtue of which you have his ear, while others have not," Harper riposted. "So how about putting the matter to him?"

  "No."

  "All right. I am no longer asking you to do so; I am telling you to do so."

  "Telling me?" The other registered incredulity.

  "That's what I said: I am telling you. Refusal to co-operate is a game at which two can play. You can take Leeming's proposition to the President or count me out of this fracas, as from now."

  "You cannot do that."

  I can.

  "You know full well that we're dependent upon you to make positive identification where opportunity arises. You cannot possibly stand idly by, knowing what's happening, watching it happen and doing nothing."

  "I can; and what's more, I shall. You aren't the only one who can make like a mule."

  "This is outrageous!" General Conway exploded.

  "It's mutinous, too," indorsed Harper, showing indecent relish. "It's barefaced treachery. You could have me shot for it. Try it and see what good it does you. I'd be even less useful dead than dumb."

  Conway breathed heavily while his face showed exasperation, then he said, "Against my better judgment, I will take this up with the President and do my best to persuade him. I promise to try to get the required action with a minimum of delay, but I offer no guarantee of success."

  "Your word is good enough for me," said Harper. "You're an officer and a gentleman. And in our antagonistic ways we're both working for the same end, aren't we?"

  He got a grunt of irritation for that, put down the phone, eyed Leeming. "He'll do it; he's the sort who sticks to a promise like grim death once it's been forced out of him." He consulted his wristwatch. "Before I go, there's one thing I'd like to know, if you can tell me."

  "What's that?"

  "How does this progressive disease become epidemic? How is it passed from one to another?"

  "The same way as the dog got it. That girl Joyce Whittingham had received an injection in the upper arm, presumably with the blood of a victim."

  "We can't say for certain that the dog has it."

  "No, but we do know the Whittingham girl had it; and we know she'd received an injection. So had two others. The fourth corpse had a plaster-covered cut that told the same story. My guess is that their reactions were the same as the dog's — a few minutes' confusion, collapse into a brief fit, rapid recovery."

  "Well, the fact that contact alone evidently is not sufficient helps a little," mused Harper. "It means a prospect has to be grabbed arid held long enough to receive and get over a shot, eh?"

  Leeming nodded and went on, "If this virus is not the actual cause, it's a definite by-product; and, if it's not the cause, well" — he spread his hands expressively—"we're at a complete loss for any other."

  "Anything else you can tell me about it?"

  "Yes. It locates itself in the brain and spinal column; that is its natural habitat. The rest is theory and you can have it for what it's worth. I believe that the virus increases until it overflows into the bloodstream and thereby creates an urge to transmit the surplus, to seek another circulatory system leading to another brain and spinal column."

  "Humph!" Harper stewed that a while.

  If these assumptions happened to be corr
ect, that imprisoned dog might well be capable of creating its own rescuer and much-wanted ally by getting in one good snap at an unwary leg, or by licking a hand on which was a minute cut. The presence of virus in its saliva could open the gates to freedom and a wholesale conversion of human forms.

  "If you want my advice," he said to Leeming, "you'd do well to put an end to that dog before it puts an end to you."

  "Don't worry. We're used to coping with such matters here. Nobody goes near enough to be spat upon, much less touched."

  "You know your own business, and it's high time I resumed tending to mine. I am going home, back to the trap that Conway hopes will catch a live one." Harper let go a harsh chuckle. "If I'm dead out of luck, they may bring you a struggling zombie that will prove to be me."

  "What d'you mean?" inquired Leeming, wide-eyed.

  "Never mind. Let's find the escort, if I return without them, there'll be the deuce to pay."

  15. The Emissary

  Rausch was hanging around the office when Harper arrived in the morning. He said, "We stayed put until eight last evening, thinking you'd be sure to return here. If your guard hadn't advised us that they'd delivered you safely home, we'd have been stuck in this dump all night."

  "What with one thing and another, including three stops en route, I got back too late." Hanging up his hat, Harper sat down at his desk and reached for the mail. "Where's Norris? How come you're here? I thought you were making an ambush of the Baum place?"

  "We've abandoned hope of catching anyone there. The news about the Baums appeared in yesterday's last editions, and despite the cover-up it's more than enough to warn off the Baums' playmates."

  "Well, all I can say is that some people appear pretty good at thwarting the Feds." Harper tore open a couple of envelopes, rapidly scanned their contents. "Where did you say Norris has gone?"

  "I didn't say. If it's any satisfaction to you, he has dashed out on what is probably another fruitless trip."

  "What do you mean by 'another'?"

  "Yesterday, while you were absent," explained Rausch, "the boys picked up no less than eight alleged McDonalds. It would have been a topnotch performance if any one of them had turned out to be McDonald; but none were. Half an hour ago Norris rushed away for a look at number nine."

  "How's he checking?"

  "Easily enough. He has mug-shots, prints and so forth. He's got sufficient to pin down the right one beyond all shadow of doubt. We've not yet laid hands on the right one."

  "I'd give much to know how he's keeping out of reach," Harper observed. "Anything else happened that I ought to know about?"

  "Your police friend Riley called in the afternoon, became nosy about where you'd gone."

  "Did you tell him?"

  "How could we? We didn't know ourselves. And even if we'd possessed the information, we wouldn't have given it. He is not entitled to be told."

  "Did he state the purpose of his visit?"

  "No. I got the impression that it was just a casual drop-in for a gab. He said he'd call again today. He fooled around, trying to make your secretary, then went."

  Harper dropped the letter he was holding, eyed Rausch sharply. "Say that again, the bit about my secretary."

  "Riley horsed about with her a bit, then departed."

  "Never! Never in a month of Sundays! He wouldn't make a pass at Moira if she begged him. That's why I kid him about it. He's so solidly married that it's boring."

  "He did," asserted Rausch. "Maybe the solidity is becoming slightly undermined."

  Harper relaxed, said, "You've made a point there. Moira is due to arrive in about ten minutes. I'll ask her about this."

  "I don't see the need. Not unless you've a hen on her love-life."

  "The bond between us is firmly based upon a mutual affection for hard cash," Harper informed him. "That and no more."

  "Have it your own way," said Rausch, shrugging. He mooched into the workshop, amused himself watching micromanipulators being assembled, came back when Moira appeared.

  Waiting until she had settled herself behind her typewriter, Harper asked, "What is this about you and Riley?"

  She was taken aback. "I don't understand, Mr. Harper."

  "I'm told the lumbering elephant made a play for you."

  "Oh, no, not really." She gained a slight flush. "He only joshed me a bit; I knew he meant nothing by it."

  "But he's never done that before, has he?"

  "No, Mr. Harper. I think he was just filling in time, not finding you here."

  Harper leaned forward, gazing at her but not picking her mind. "Did he try to date you?"

  She was shocked and a little indignant. "Certainly not. He did offer me a theater ticket someone had given him. He said he wasn't able to use it and I could have it."

  "Did you accept it?"

  "No. It was for last night. I had a date already, and couldn't go."

  "Was he disappointed when you refused the ticket?"

  "Not that I noticed." Her attention shifted to the listening Rausch, then back to Harper, her features expressing bafflement. 'What is all this, anyway?"

  "Nothing much, Lanky. I am trying to determine whether Riley was drunk or sober yesterday afternoon. It's an interesting speculation, because never in my life have I known him to get stinko."

  "A person doesn't have to be drunk to notice my existence," she gave back more than pointedly.

  "That's the baby!' approved Rausch, coming in on her side. "You landed that one right on the button."

  "Keep your beak out of my domestic affairs," ordered Harper. He picked up a letter, wet his lips. "Forget it, Moira. Let's get down to business. Take this reply to the Vester Clinic. Replacement titanium-alloy needles for Model Fourteen are immediately available in sets of six. We quote you—"

  He had finished dictating and was presiding in the workshop when Norris returned sour-faced and said, "You wouldn't think so many people could have a superficial but passable resemblance to one wanted man."

  "Meaning they'd grabbed another dud?"

  "Yes. A paint salesman sufficiently like McDonald to make the pinch excusable. Moreover, he was in a devil of a hurry, lost his temper, tried to crash a road-block. That was his undoing."

  "Look," said Harper, "McDonald escaped, loaded with luggage, and had at least an hour's start. Do you really suppose he's still in this town?"

  "No, I don't. I reckon the chances are a hundred to one against it. Not only have we found no trace of him, but none of the Reeds — or their car, either. I think they slipped through the cordon and are now way out in the wilds. But we're passing up no chances."

  "All right. Then I'll tell you something: if those three have escaped, they've left at least one contact here."

  "How do you know that?" Norris demanded.

  "Because we whizzed past one yesterday. I tried to get the cavalcade to go after him, but they refused to stop. They had their orders and they stuck to them. It shows how blind obedience can make a hash of initiative."

  Norris did not like that last remark, but let it go by and inquired, "Did you get any clue to his identity?"

  "Not a one. If I had, I'd have told you last night and saved your time. He might be anybody, anybody at all. The best I can do is guess."

  "Go ahead and do some guessing. You've made a few lucky shots so far."

  "This is a wild one fired entirely at random," Harper told him, almost apologetically. "I can't get rid of the idea that about the safest place in the world for a hunted man is a town where every man jack is hunting for some other character. He benefits from the general distraction, see? His safety factor is increased more than somewhat by virtue of the obvious fact that you can concentrate on one thing only by ignoring other things."

  "Go on," urged Norris, interested.

  "So if the presence of my carcass makes this town an area of irresistible attraction to the opposition, and everyone here is chasing around in search of McDonald—"

  "Finish it, man, finish it!"


  "What a wonderful setup for William Gould." Harper regarded the other levelly. "Who's looking for him?"

  "The entire country; you know that."

  "I'm not considering the entire country. I'm thinking only of this town. Unlike the rest of the country, it's obsessed by McDonald to such an extent that Gould could step in and baby-sit for you, and you'd pay him two dollars with thanks."

  Rausch chipped in, "Whether that guess is on or off, the mark makes no difference. Gould is wanted as badly as McDonald. It would do no harm to distribute a local reminder of that fact."

  "It wouldn't at that," agreed Norris. "You go out and see to it right now." Norris watched Rausch hurry out, then returned his attention to Harper. "Where do you dig up these notions?"

  "The onlooker sees the most of the game. And as I told you before, I've been on the run myself, while you have not. It helps a lot when one tries to put oneself in the other fellow's shoes. That's why the first and perhaps one of the best detectives in history was an ex-convict with a long record."

  "Eugene Francoise Vidocq." He shut up as his mental searchlight made one of its periodic circlings and found something in the surrounding ocean of emanations. He was quiet while his mind listened.

  It was coming again.

  Gobble-gobble. Harper returned to his office and sat erect in his chair. He felt under one arm to make sure the gun was readily available.

  "Moira," he said quietly, "there's a packet for Schultz-Masters ready in the shop. It's urgent. I'd like you to take it to the post office at once. See that it goes by the midday mail. You need not hurry back. It'll do if you return after lunch."

  "What about this correspondence, Mr. Harper?"

  "You'll have all afternoon to cope with it. Put a move on and get rid of that consignment so that I'll have an answer ready if Schultz-Masters start bawling over the phone."

  "Very well." She adjusted her hat, picked up her handbag, went into the workshop and collected the package.

  Going to the window, Harper watched her hurrying along the street in the direction opposite to that from which danger was coming. Well, that got her away from the scene of prospective trouble.