Three to Conquer

by Eric Frank Russell

  The enemy mentality was searching with swiftly mounting alarm. Telepathy was completely outside its experience, nothing like it having been encountered in its native habitat. But when an astute mind fails to solve a problem on the basis of recorded data, and steps right outside of experience to seek a solution within the imagination, anything is possible.

  At any moment, Riley was going to conceive the formerly inconceivable.

  Then would come the eruption.

  17. The Captive

  Casually scratching under one arm in order to have fingers near the gun, Harper said, "I don't know why I asked you. I'm not in the least interested. If you feel touchy on the subject, you can attribute my question to mere yap. I've been doing too much of that, considering the jobs waiting to be done. Go away and let me tend to my business."

  He failed in his attempt to divert the thought-stream into another direction.

  "He has a weapon there," it flowed on. "I have seen him carrying it many a time. He has his hand on it, and cannot conceal his tenseness. He would not be like that if he knew nothing. Therefore he knows something, in spite of all my attempts to hide it." A puzzled pause, then, "I came in the role of an old friend. Yet he makes ready to deal with me for what I am."

  Grinning at him, Harper withdrew the hand, used it to scratch his head instead. It was a mistake.

  "By the Great Black Rock of Karsim, he can hear my thoughts!"

  The desk went over with a crash that shook the floor as Harper dived headlong across it and grabbed the hand which Riley was digging into a pocket. Something small, oval and metallic lay in the pocket but did not come out.

  Voicing a loud oath in no known language, Riley used his free hand to try to haul Harper from the pinioned one. He was a powerful man with a huge grip that had clamped itself unbreakably on many a struggling felon. Hauling with irresistible strength, he was caught unaware when Harper went willingly with the pull and helped it further. The unexpected co-operation sent him teetering on his heels, at which point Harper shoved with all his might.

  Together they fell to the floor, with Harper partly on top. Riley's eyes were aflame, his features crimson as he fought to beat off his opponent long enough to get at the object in his pocket. Pinning him down was like trying to fasten an enraged tiger to the earth.

  A thick-knuckled fist landed squarely on Harper's mouth and brought a spurt of blood from split lips. The sight of it created a horrible eagerness in Riley's features. He redoubled his efforts to throw the other off, heaving tremendously and keeping his gaze on the blood.

  Panting as he strove to maintain his position of vantage, Harper caught a knee-thrust in the stomach, whooshed expelled breath, spat crimson drops and hoarsed, "No you don't, you!" He released his hold on Riley's wrist, got a two-handed grip on his neck and dug thumbs into his windpipe.

  At that point Norris jumped through the doorway, gun in hand, and bawled, "Break it up I Break it up, I tell you!"

  Riley heaved with maniac force, tossed Harper off his middle, kicked at his head as he rolled aside and missed. He shot upright, glaring at Norris and showing complete disregard of the gun. He made a motion toward his pocket, came down flat before he could touch it as Harper twisted on the floor and snatched the feet from under him.

  Clutching each other afresh, the two threshed around with bodies squirming and legs flailing right and left. A tall filing cabinet shuddered under their impact, rocked forward, toppled and flung a shower of business papers across the office. The telephone leaped from its rack; two bottles of ink and one of paste added themselves to the mess. The combatants continued to fight fiercely amid the litter.

  Rausch and two more agents appeared just as Norris firmed his lips and stepped forward, determined to end the battle. The four made a concerted rush that swept Harper aside and got Riley good and tight. They dragged him upright.

  Sweating profusely, Riley stood in their grip, forced righteous indignation into his face and declaimed with plausible resentfulness, "The man's gone completely mad. He attacked me without warning, and for no reason at all; there must be something wrong with him."

  It was said with such a natural air that Norris had a moment of wondering whether Harper had gone bad right under his nose and despite all their precautions.

  "Feel in his pocket and see what he's got," suggested Harper. Sitting on the edge of the upended desk, he dabbed his bleeding lips with a handkerchief.

  Norris did that, produced a grenade, examined it. "Army model, same as Baum used." He gazed hard-eyed at Riley. "Funny sort of thing for a police officer to carry around, isn't it?"

  "He's not a police officer any more," Harper put in. "And he isn't Riley either. Rush him down to the Biological Research Laboratory; they need him there at once."

  These words created a sudden frenzy in the prisoner. His arms were held but his legs were not. He kicked Norris in the middle, tore loose, tried to snatch the grenade. Norris bent forward, doubled with agony, but held onto it. Riley pulled at him, gobbling and foaming, making strange whining noises and working his features almost out of recognition.

  An agent sapped him. Riley rocked dazedly, let his hand hang. The agent slogged him again, a vicious crack devoid of mercy. Riley collapsed like an empty sack; he lay with eyes closed, his lips shut and breathed with eerie bubbling sounds.

  "I've no time for belly-kickers," said the agent.

  Norris straightened himself painfully, his face white and strained. He held out the grenade. "Take it away someplace where it can do no harm."

  "Same applies to the owner," Harper reminded. "Tie him up so he can't choke himself with his own fingers, and get him to the Bio Lab."

  "Is he—?"

  "Yes, he is; and it's my fault. He had entry to this office and it cost him his soul."

  "I thought you were supposed to be able to smell them coming," Norris complained. "What's the use of us guarding you for half a mile around if they can walk in like this and—"

  "I knew he was coming."

  "Then why didn't you tell us? I was listening in to your conversation and thought it decidedly fishy. You were needling him for some reason or other. But seeing that you had sounded no alarm, we—"

  "Look," said Harper firmly, "this is no time for explanations or post-mortems. Rush him to Doctor Leeming at the Bio Lab as fast as you can make it. And don't give him the slightest opportunity to finish himself on the way there. I'm giving you fair warning that if he can't escape he'll kill himself by any means at hand. He must be delivered alive and in one piece."

  "All right."

  Norris signed to the others. They lifted Riley, who now had Steel cuffs on wrists and ankles and was still unconscious. They carried him out.

  Mopping his lips again, Harper stared moodily at the wreckage of his office. He was not really seeing it, though. He was physically and spiritually shaken, and striving to overcome it.

  Moira came in saying, "I left all my money behind, so I couldn't—" She halted, went wide-eyed, let go a gasp. "Why, Mr. Harper, what on earth has happened?"

  "I had a fit of sneezing."

  Dragging his desk upright and restoring his chair to its legs, he sat and continued to ruminate while Moira scrabbled for loose papers. Then suddenly he smacked a hand to his forehead and ejaculated, "I go dafter as I get older!"

  He dashed out while Moira knelt in the middle of the floor and gaped after him.

  On the sidewalk, Norris and Rausch were standing with hands in pockets while watching two cruisers speed along the street.

  Norris greeted him with, "He's gone. They'll hand him over to Leeming in no time." Then a mite doubtfully, "And I hope you know what you're doing. There'll be plenty of trouble if we've blundered in this case."

  "You haven't dealt with the half of it yet," said Harper hurriedly. "There's a gang of them hiding in his home. What's more, I've reason to think they knew of his capture the moment he was slapped to sleep. Ten to one, it got them on the run forthwith; you'll have to move fast
to nab them."

  "We can do no more than, our best," said Norris, unimpressed and making no move.

  "McDonald's there, and several others," Harper urged. He scowled impatiently at the other. "Well, are you going to take action or do I have to go myself?"

  "Easy now," Norris advised. He gave a slow smile. "We know exactly where Riley lives; he's been followed time and again."

  "What of it?"

  "When we carted him out, a raid on his house became the next logical step. Five cars with twenty men have gone there. They'll grab everyone they can lay hands on. Afterwards, and if necessary, we'll use you to tell us who is which."

  "So you've been thinking ahead of me, eh?"

  "It happens sometimes." Norris was smiling again. "You can't lead the field all the way; nobody can do that, no matter what his mental speed."

  "Thanks for the reminder. Send a man round the garbage cans to get a few ashes, will you? I wish to put them upon my head while work proceeds."

  He returned to the office. Moira had already succeeded in restoring some semblance of order. She filed the last of the scattered papers in the cabinet, closed it with an emphatic slam, surveyed him much as a long-suffering mother would regard an irresponsible child. That did nothing for his ego, either.

  "Thank you, Angel. Now go get your lunch."

  He waited until she had departed, picked up the phone, made a long-distance call to Leeming.

  "A live one is on the way to you right now and, with luck, there'll be several more to come. Don't tell me what you propose to do to the first arrival. I don't want to know."

  "Why not?" Leeming asked, exhibiting curiosity through the visicreen. "It is somebody close to you?"

  "Yes. A big, lumbering, good-natured cop I've known for years. I hate to think of you carving him up."

  "He won't be carved; we've done all we need of that on dead bodies. Living victims will be used as test subjects for likely vaccines."

  "What's the chance of developing a satisfactory cure?" Harper asked.

  "There's another problem far more important," Leeming gave back. "Namely, whether we can find one in adequate time. We can succeed and yet fail because success comes too late."

  "That doesn't answer my question."

  "I refuse to commit myself at this stage. We aren't the only ones on the job. In a crisis of this sort the government turns to anyone and everyone who can lend a hand, private laboratories included. Somebody else may strike lucky and come up with a solution while we're still seeking it. All we can do here is work like hell and pray."

  "If produceable, an effective vaccine should be innocuous, shouldn't it?" Harper pursued.

  "What do you mean?"

  "The cure shouldn't be little better than the disease?"

  "What the devil are you getting at?"

  Harper hesitated, continued carefully, "I'll tell you something. That virus cannot think by itself, any more than you can drive a nonexistent car; but it can think when in possession of a brain. And I know one thing it thinks about. It is scared to death of meningococci."

  "What?" yelled Leeming, thunderstruck.

  "I'm giving you a genuine basic fact. That alien nightmare has a nightmare of its own. No living thing can be possessed by it and have cerebrospinal meningitis at one and the same time. Something has to go under, and it's the virus that does the going."

  "Where did you learn all this?"

  "From a victim. The one they're taking down to you at this moment.'

  "How did you find out?"

  "He told me without realizing it. He named his alien obsession, and I'm giving it to you for what it's worth."

  Leeming breathed heavily, excitement showing in his eyes.

  "It could be, too. It really could be. Areas of local infection are identical. Brain and spinal column. You can see what that means — a fight for living space."

  "Supposing you squirt someone full of meningococci," Harper went on, "and he becomes cured with respect to the cure itself?"

  "That's something we've yet to discover," said Leeming, grim and determined.

  "Well, I've no choice but to leave it with you. All I ask is for you to remember that your first test-subject is my friend."

  He cut off, racked the phone, sat twisting his fingers and staring at them. After a while he held his face in his hands, and murmured, "It had to be Riley and his wife. Poor devils!"

  * * *

  In the late afternoon, Norris beckoned him out of Moira's hearing, said, "They got Mrs. Riley, Mrs. Reed and two men named Farley and Moore. We've discovered that the women are sisters. Farley and Moore were friends of the Reeds. Moore was a close business associate of the Baum brothers. You can see the link-up and how trouble has spread from one to another."

  "Did they put up a fight?"

  "You bet they did. When the boys got there the house was empty and the front door still swinging. The rats had run for it but hadn't had time to escape from sight. Mrs. Riley, Farley and Moore were nabbed on the street half a mile away. They needed three men apiece to hold them."

  "And what of the others?" Harper asked.

  "Mrs. Reed was picked up in a store pretending to be one of the crowd. She reacted like a wildcat. Reed himself stepped off a roof rather than be taken. McDonald was trapped in a parking lot while trying to steal a car. He was armed; he shot it out to the finish."

  "He is dead?"

  "Yes. Same as Langley and for the same reason. It was impossible to take him alive."

  "How about Gould?"

  Norris rocked back. "What d'you mean, how about Gould?"

  "He was there at Riley's house."

  "Are you sure of that?"

  "I'm positive."

  Accepting that without argument, Norris affirmed, "There was no sign of him. But he'll be found." He mused a bit, went on, "We're now tracing all contacts of the entire bunch, and pulling them in as fast as we find them. The total number may come to hundreds. Anyone known to have stood within a yard of any one of them is liable to be taken for questioning. You'd better hold yourself in readiness to look them over as we line them up."

  "All right."

  "It may go on for weeks, perhaps months."

  "I'll suffer it." Harper eyed him speculatively. "You say that Riley's house was deserted when your men arrived?"

  "Yes."

  "Who tipped them to leave in a hurry?"

  "Nobody," said Norris. "When Riley didn't return on time, they took alarm and fled."

  "It was more positive than that," Harper declared. "They were tipped."

  "By whom?"

  "By Riley himself. He couldn't help it. He lost consciousness and that was enough for them. They got, out fast the moment one of your boys clouted Riley on the head. They knew he'd been caught."

  "I don't see how," Norris protested.

  "Never mind how. I'm telling you that each one of them knows when another has been put out of action."

  "What of it, anyway?"

  "At the Bio Lab they're holding an afflicted dog. I've a feeling that sooner or later that- animal may be able to summon help. It's a guess and nothing more. How about persuading Jameson to put a guard on the place?"

  "It's already protected. You ought to know that; you've been there."

  "The guard is a military one. It isn't prepared for the sort of trouble we're having here."

  "You're doing the identification for us at this end," said Norris. "Who'll do it for them down there?"

  "Me."

  "What, over such a distance?"

  "I'm going there. I'm a constant center of interest to the foe, no matter where I may be. That dog is a focal point for them; so is each and every live victim we hold. Get them all in one place and we thereby create a cumulative attraction that may prove irresistible. Desire for revenge, rescue and continued concealment should be more than enough to draw the enemy's full strength to the one spot. Their best bet lies in making a concerted effort. It would be about the only chance we'd get of settling them w
ith a single blow."

  "I'll put it to Jameson and ask him to consult General Conway," said Norris. "The plan is worth considering."

  "While you're at it, you can tell Jameson that I'm on my way no matter what is decided."

  "You can't do that."

  "I can. Try giving me contrary orders and see where it gets you." He grinned at Norris. "I'm a free individual and intend to remain one, with or without the kind permission of Conway or any other character."

  "But Rausch and I have to stay with you," Norris objected. "And we're supposed to work this trap. It's operating all right; look at today's catch."

  "The bait is transferring itself to a bigger and better rat-run," Harper gave back. "Please yourself whether you come along."

  He tramped into his office, found his week-end case, checked its contents, said to Moira, "Hold the fort, rush out" the products, make excuses for me and bank the profits. Papa's taking another trip."

  Norris and Rausch piled into his car as he was about to start, and the former said, "We've got to hang onto your coattails no matter what you do. Your plant remains under guard, but if someone cockeyed walks into it there'll be nobody to give warning."

  "Same applies at the Bio Lab, which is now a more enticing target." Harper pulled out from the curb and took the center of the street. "And I cannot be in two places at once."

  He drove fast, with another burdened car following close behind. His mind reached out and felt around as he went through the town. This time, he decided, a faint threnody of alien thoughts would not be ignored. He was at the wheel and he'd go after it.

  But it did not come.

  The car swung into its fenced and patrolled destination an hour after darkness had fallen. Norris immediately put through a call to Jameson, briefed him on latest events. Sometime later, Jameson called back.

  "You're getting your own way," Norris informed Harper. "Conway has ordered special measures to protect this place."

  18. The Onslaught

  The attack came four days afterward, by which time the delay had given some the secret belief that nothing would ever happen.