Ten From Infinity

by Paul W. Fairman

  11

  As with Rhoda Kane's mind, Les King's seemed to be divided into twosections. One of these kept him in a state of perpetual uneasiness atwhat the other was forcing him to do. He realized that venting yourfrustrations against bureaucrats was one thing, but actively engaging indangerous snooping was quite another.

  In the moments of uncertainty after John Dennis sent him to Washington,D.C. with orders to get his hands on certain data, Les King bolsteredhis courage by telling himself that, what the hell, he'd planned allalong to go right ahead and dig out the complete android throughwhatever means possible. Therefore, meeting and teaming up with Dennishad been a big break.

  The rationalization wasn't too comforting, though, because he knew hecould never have gone ahead on his own. Also, he realized he and Dennisweren't a team at all. Dennis ordered; he obeyed. Still, the sense ofexcitement Dennis generated in him had its effect on the other part ofhis mind, and this was the stronger; this held sway. Somehow, there wasthe certainty that Dennis did not make mistakes; that everything wouldwork out.

  This conviction was jarred a little when he got past the lobby man inthe Washington building--a feat easily accomplished--climbed ten flightsof stairs, and found room ten twenty-eight empty. Obviously, Dennis hadgoofed.

  King's first instinct was to retreat as quietly as he'd advanced; to getaway from the place and report failure to Dennis. But as he went backdownstairs, the thought of Dennis' disapproval began weighing moreheavily. Maybe something unforeseen had happened. Maybe he could stillpull this one out of the fire.

  With this hope foremost in his mind, he went into the lobby, assumed abold front, and demanded: "Where in the hell did the people in tentwenty-eight go?"

  And the front worked. The lobby man, a big Irishman, was so impressed hedidn't even ask King how he'd gotten into the building. He blinkedpolitely and said, "Blessed if I'm not new here myself. This is my firstday. What room was it?"

  Then the big Irishman went to a phone to check, and came back with aGeorgetown address written out on a slip of paper. Georgetown seemedlike an unlikely place to find cadavers and, under normal conditions,King would have been highly suspicious of the whole thing. But what thehell? Nothing was normal about this project, so why not follow through?

  _King, you're crazy. You're out of your stupid mind._

  He raised his hand and a cab cut in toward the curb.

  When he arrived at the address, he found himself standing on the walk infront of a large, imposing house. The place still seemed unlikely butyou never could tell. The way things were these days, any house inwhatever neighborhood was a potential location for almost anything. Theway this one was laid out, there could possibly have been a laboratoryin the back. A narrow walk led in that direction and, instead ofclimbing the front steps, King followed it around the corner and found abasement door at the foot of a flight of steps.

  He hesitated before ringing the bell. What kind of an approach would heuse? The idea was to get inside and see the layout--spot the office, thefile cabinets. The feature-story bit? It might work, but who the helllived here? He'd checked the mailbox beside the front porch but there'dbeen no name.

  Deciding he could only play it by ear, he pulled in his diaphragm andrang the bell.

  The door opened quickly--too quickly, it seemed--and King realized he'dstruck a pay lode in the myopic-looking little jerk who stood peeringout at him. The guy wore a white laboratory coat with two bloodstains onit and was holding a scalpel in his hand.

  "I'm Doctor Entman. Can I help you?"

  Entman--Entman--for Christ sake. Oh, sure, a neurologist. Had to be thesame guy. International authority. The _Times_ once did a feature on hisarrival at Idlewild. UN stuff.

  "I'm King of the _Herald Tribune_," Les said, lying easily."We're shaping up a feature on the more advanced neurologicaltechniques--Sunday supplement material. They sent me down to see ifyou'd give us some of your views."

  "I'd be delighted. Come in. Come in."

  "I'm not imposing on your time, I hope."

  "Not at all!"

  The guy was almost too cordial, but what the hell? All their nosestwitched at the smell of publicity.

  Entman led him down a cement-floored corridor, the smell of formaldehydethickening as they went, then into a small office with an open door, onthe far side through which Les King was confronted with a franklygruesome sight--a dissecting room with parts of cadavers lying aroundlike orders in a meat packer's shipping room.

  "Won't you sit down, please? There by the desk."

  As Entman gestured, he noted King's reaction to the sight and the smellof the dissecting room.

  "Just a moment. I'll close that door."

  "No, don't bother, Doctor. I'd better get the authentic atmosphere. Itmakes a better story."

  "I admire your courage, young man."

  King pointed toward the room. "Something important?"

  "Routine--only routine."

  Then, to Les King's practiced eye, Entman proved it wasn't routine atall by entering the laboratory and gathering up a loose pile of noteslying there on a table. He seemed to momentarily forget King's presenceas he went through the notes, sorted them carefully, and brought themback into the office.

  King watched as Entman then deposited them in a small safe. He closedthe safe but didn't lock it. Then he turned, beamed myopically at hisvisitor, and said, "Now I'm at your service, young man."

  "Fine, Doctor. Now, this series we're planning will highlight moderntechniques with an eye to illustrating ..."

  While King asked questions and Entman answered, another part of King'smind was busy with the real problem at hand. Entman would, no doubt,lock the safe before he left the office. Burglary--a risk King waswilling to take--would get him back into the office when no one wasaround, but how could he open the safe? Walking straight to the thing hewas after had been fine. Having been put in a position to get to knowwhat the notes looked like was another astounding piece of good fortune.All this, however, could turn out to mean nothing because he didn't knowhow to crack a safe.

  He would have to report failure after being so close.

  "As I said," Entman prattled on happily, "when I was at Johns HopkinsI--"

  The desk phone rang. Entman picked it up, answered it and then hung up."Would I impose if I asked you for a fifteen-minute break? Some peopleare calling that I must see--an appointment I forgot."

  "Not at all," Les King assured him. "I'd like to do a little work onthese notes to see if I left out anything."

  "So good of you. Boring people, really. I'll get rid of them as soon aspossible."

  Entman left through an inner door and King was stunned by his good luck.He called it that even while experience and judgment shrieked warnings.This was too pat--too easy. Something was phony in the setup.

  But he didn't even have to fight what common sense was telling him. Hewas too busy opening the safe, spreading the data out on the desktop,and using a small camera he carried in the side pocket of his jacket.

  Then, he put the data back in the safe and felt the hot, excitementsurge up through his body.

  * * * * *

  "I'm afraid I owe you a drink," Entman said ruefully.

  "You were right. When I got back to the office, he was gone."

  Brent Taber grinned, but only with his mouth--his eyes remained somberand weary. "The data was back in the safe?"

  "Right where I put it. I'll swear it hadn't been moved."

  "He was photographing it thirty seconds after you left."

  "But how can you be sure?"

  Brent Taber pulled at his ear and stared at a Renoir on the wall ofEntman's drawing room without seeing it. "I can't, of course. We can'tbe sure of anything. It's all based on an idea you gave me."

  "What idea?"

  "You told me the results of your research on the androids would bevaluable to whoever built them--as a guide to perfecting androids thatwouldn't die under earth conditions."

&nb
sp; "That was obvious logic."

  "And it ties in with another thought. A race of beings as advanced asthese could take us over without trouble, it would seem."

  "Quite true. Except--"

  "Except that they themselves may not be able to exist on earth, either;no more so than we could exist on the moon without creating conditionsfavorable to our physical capabilities."

  "So ...?"

  "So I'm betting that the ten androids were sent here on atrial-and-error basis, with the objective of perfecting them andcreating an android army to move in and take us over."

  "It's a thought, but with their power they could achieve the same resultwith less effort by pulverizing us. Or so it would seem to me."

  "True, but maybe they don't want us pulverized; maybe they'd rather takeover a working planet than a lot of rubble."

  "All that follows logically," Entman admitted, "provided the originalhypothesis is true--that they cannot invade us in person."

  "Right. But I've got to start somewhere and hope I'm on the righttrack."

  "One thing occurs to me. Eight of the androids died and one was killed.What if all ten had succumbed? How did they plan to get their data?"

  "Who knows? I'm not saying the idea is foolproof. But a certain amountof risk had to be involved. If the ten died, they would have missed.Maybe they'd try again in that case. But they were lucky--one survived."

  Entman was peering thoughtfully at nothing. "Your idea is bolstered bythe fact that the androids were found all over the country. They couldhave been testing various climates."

  "But it's weakened by the creatures being found in cities--the leastlikely places to escape detection. Why didn't they stay in isolatedsections?"

  Entman smiled. "I like the way you reach out for arguments against yourown theory, but you reached too far for that one. If they'd done that,who would find the androids and do the research work?"

  Brent Taber brightened. "You comfort me, Doctor. That little thread gotlost in my maze. They wanted the creatures to be found. They didn'texpect to fool us. Why else would the one in Chicago go brazenly into atavern, start to drink and then get into an argument?"

  "That's right. The argument must have been started deliberately." Entmanbeamed on Taber. "I think we deserve another Scotch."

  Entman poured the drink. He looked kindly at Taber as he handed it tohim, and made what seemed an abrupt change in subject. "They're givingyou a very hard time, aren't they, son?"

  Taber considered the question as he downed a healthy belt from theglass. "I guess you could call it that. I'm getting pretty unpopular insome places. As a matter of fact, I've wondered why you stick by me."

  Entman poured himself a drink. "That hurts me a little, son."

  "I'm sorry. It's getting so I don't even know how to treat a friend."

  Entman raised his glass in salute. "I'm afraid this sentimentalchit-chat doesn't become either of us. Let's go back to our friend fromthe _Herald Tribune_. You're sure he photographed the data?"

  "I think we can depend on it."

  "When I got your call, I acted as fast as I could. The data looksauthentic, I'm sure, but it was a quick job of fiction. Now I'd like toknow the rest--whatever you didn't have time to tell me."

  "It's still a logic-chain, with some pretty flimsy strands in someplaces, but I'm afraid I'm stuck with it. King was greedy and hungrywhen I first talked to him, but I think I scared him off. I think, leftto himself, he would have let the thing alone.

  "So I was surprised when he showed up at the old location. My firstthought was that Crane had sent him. It would have been logical--Cranesending a man to try and find out where we'd taken the cadavers heobviously wants to get his hands on.

  "But I couldn't connect Crane with King. I couldn't figure how Cranecould have known of King's existence." Taber paused to drink and grinhis humorless grin. "So I made a daring leap. If it had to be someoneelse, why not the tenth android himself?"

  Entman frowned as he toyed with the idea. "Why, good lord--!"

  "You said yourself that the androids probably possessed extraordinarypowers."

  "Yes, but--"

  "All right. If we accept the need-of-data theory, which we have to, whatwould the tenth android be doing? Trying to get his hands on it. Hecould conceivably have made contact with King. King took a picture ofthe ninth android. Our still able and functioning number ten found hisway to Doctor Corson's room in Greenwich Village and demolished numbernine, for reasons of his own, so he could have made contact with King,put him under domination, and sent him after the data."

  "How could he know where the data was?"

  Taber shrugged. "I said there were some pretty weak strings in my logic.But it so shaped, as I saw it, where it would stand or smash on onepoint. If King had waited in your office for your return, I would havebeen forced to assume he was there on his own. But he left, so I'm goingto figure he took what he came for--the bait you dangled under hisnose."

  "That brings up a question in my mind. If you're right, King will nowmake contact with the android, will he not?"

  "I assume he will."

  "And that will give you a chance to capture him and have the whole tenaccounted for?"

  "I don't want him until he sends the data back to whoever is waiting forit."

  "You'd like to have them build their synthetic army on thespecifications I made out?"

  "I'd dearly love that."

  "Do you know where to contact King again?"

  "He's being tailed. They stripped me, but I still have two men left."

  "You're being treated miserably!" Entman scowled. "I'm going to talk tosome people about this. I refuse to allow--"

  "Thanks, but not for a while. I've shaped my operation on a one-manbasis. I'd be embarrassed if they relented. I wouldn't know what to dowith all the men."

  Entman's little eyes shone with affection. "I can only wish you goodluck."

  "Thanks. I'll need it."

  "And one more thing I was wondering."

  "What's that?"

  "Why do you suppose the tenth android killed the one in the Village?"

  "Another case of taking one reason for want of a better one. I think itwas his way of delivering the creature to us for research. He couldn'tknow for sure that we already had his 'brothers.'"

  "You're right--you must be," Entman agreed.

  "Small consolation. I'd like a few facts to go on for a change insteadof having to depend on logic all the time," Taber growled.

  "What are you referring to?"

  "The data. I'm assuming, _if_ that's what's important, that the tenthcreature has a way of getting the stuff back up there."

  "I can help a little on that," Entman said. "I can assure you that fromwhat I've found in those brains, the data could, most likely, be sentmentally."

  "You're sure of that?"

  "I've found a certain part of those brains developed in a peculiarway--"

  Taber smiled. "You're sure of that?"

  "Well ... that's my theory. It would appear logical that--"

  Taber leaned forward suddenly and extended his glass, the grin on hisface showing some genuine humor. "Let's have another drink, Doctor. ThenI'll go. I love the factual way this Scotch of yours hits my stomach."