The Velvet Glove
Page 4
wereglowing warmly. They swept the room with one glance then focused on Jon.
The right shutter clicked shut while the other began opening and closingin rapid fashion. It was International code--being sent as fast as thesolenoid could be operated. Jon concentrated on the message.
_Telephone--call emergency operator--tell her "signal 14" help will--_
The shutter stopped in the middle of a code group, the light of reasondying from the eyes.
For one instant Jon's heart leaped in panic, until he realized that 17had deliberately cut the power. Druce's harsh voice rasped in his ear.
"What you doing with that? None of your funny robot tricks. I know yourkind, plotting all kinds of things in them tin domes." His voice trailedoff into a stream of incomprehensible profanity. With sudden spite helashed his foot out and sent 17's head crashing against the wall.
The dented, green head rolled to a stop at Jon's feet, the face staringup at him in mute agony. It was only Circuit 92 that prevented him frominjuring a _human_. As his motors revved up to send him hurtling forwardthe control relays clicked open. He sank against the debris, paralyzedfor the instant. As soon as the rush of anger was gone he would regaincontrol of his body.
They stood as if frozen in a tableau. The robot slumped backward, theman leaning forward, his face twisted with unreasoning hatred. The headlay between them like a symbol of death.
Coleman's voice cut through the air of tenseness like a knife.
"_Druce_, stop playing with the grease-can and get down to the main doorto let Little Willy and his junk-brokers in. You can have it all toyourself afterward."
The angry man turned reluctantly, but pushed out of the door atColeman's annoyed growl. Jon sat down against the wall, his mind sortingout the few facts with lightning precision. There was no room in histhoughts for Druce, the man had become just one more factor in a complexproblem.
Call the emergency operator--that meant this was no local matter,responsible authorities must be involved. Only the government could bebehind a thing as major as this. Signal 14--that inferred a complex setof arrangements, forces that could swing into action at a moment'snotice. There was no indication where this might lead, but the onlything to do was to get out of here and make that phone call. And quick.Druce was bringing in more people, junk-brokers, whatever they were. Anyaction that he took would have to be done before they returned.
Even as Jon followed this train of logic his fingers were busy. Palminga wrench, he was swiftly loosening the main retaining nut on his hipjoint. It dropped free in his hand, only the pivot pin remained now tohold his leg on. He climbed slowly to his feet and moved towardsColeman's desk.
"Mr. Coleman, sir, it's time to go down to the ship now, should I leavenow, sir?"
Jon spoke the words slowly as he walked forward, apparently going to thedoor, but angling at the same time towards the plump man's desk.
"You got thirty minutes yet, go sit--_say_...!"
The words were cut off. Fast as a human reflex is, it is the barestcrawl compared to the lightning action of electronic reflex. At theinstant Coleman was first aware of Jon's motion, the robot had finishedhis leap and lay sprawled across the desk, his leg off at the hip andclutched in his hand.
"YOU'LL KILL YOURSELF IF YOU TOUCH THE BUTTON!"
The words were part of the calculated plan. Jon bellowed them in thestartled man's ear as he stuffed the dismembered leg down the front ofthe man's baggy slacks. It had the desired effect, Coleman's fingerstabbed at the button but stopped before it made contact. He stared downwith bulging eyes at the little black box of death peeping out of hiswaistband.
Jon hadn't waited for the reaction. He pushed backward from the desk andstopped to grab the stolen pinch bar off the floor. A mighty one-leggedleap brought him to the locked closet; he stabbed the bar into the spacebetween the door and frame and heaved.
Coleman was just starting to struggle the bomb out of his pants when theaction was over. The closet open, Jon seized the heavy strap holding thesecond bomb on the rummy's chest and snapped it like a thread. He threwthe bomb into Coleman's corner, giving the man one more thing to worryabout. It had cost him a leg, but Jon had escaped the bomb threatwithout injuring a human. Now he had to get to a phone and make thatcall.
Coleman stopped tugging at the bomb and plunged his hand into the deskdrawer for a gun. The returning men would block the door soon, the onlyother exit from the room was a frosted-glass window that opened onto themammoth bay of the warehouse.
Jon Venex plunged through the window in a welter of flying glass. Theheavy thud of a recoilless .75 came from the room behind him and afoot-long section of metal window frame leaped outward. Another slugscreamed by the robot's head as he scrambled toward the rear door of thewarehouse.
He was a bare thirty feet away from the back entrance when the giantdoor hissed shut on silent rollers. All the doors would have closed atthe same time, the thud of running feet indicated that they would beguarded as well. Jon hopped a section of packing cases and crouched outof sight.
He looked up over his head, there stretched a webbing of steel supports,crossing and recrossing until they joined the flat expanse of the roof.To human eyes the shadows there deepened into obscurity, but theinfra-red from a network of steam pipes gave Jon all the illumination heneeded.
The men would be quartering the floor of the warehouse soon, his onlychance to escape recapture or death would be over their heads. Besidesthis, he was hampered by the loss of his leg. In the rafters he coulduse his arms for faster and easier travel.
Jon was just pulling himself up to one of the topmost cross beams whena hoarse shout from below was followed by a stream of bullets. They torethrough the thin roof, one slug clanged off the steel beam under hisbody. Waiting until three of the newcomers had started up a nearbyladder, Jon began to quietly work his way towards the back of thebuilding.
Safe for the moment, he took stock of his position. The men were spreadout through the building, it could only be a matter of time before theyfound him. The doors were all locked and--he had made a complete circuitof the building to be sure--there were no windows that he couldforce--the windows were bolted as well. If he could call the emergencyoperator the unknown friends of Venex 17 might come to his aid. This,however, was out of the question. The only phone in the building was onColeman's desk. He had traced the leads to make sure.
His eyes went automatically to the cables above his head. Plasticgaskets were set in the wall of the building, through them came thepower and phone lines. The phone line! That was all he needed to make acall.
With smooth, fast motions he reached up and scratched a section of wirebare. He laughed to himself as he slipped the little microphone out ofhis left ear. Now he was half deaf as well as half lame--he wasliterally giving himself to this cause. He would have to remember thepun to tell Alec Diger later, if there was a later. Alec had a profoundweakness for puns.
Jon attached jumpers to the mike and connected them to the bare wire. Atouch of the ammeter showed that no one was on the line. He waited a fewmoments to be sure he had a dial tone then sent the eleven carefullyspaced pulses that would connect him with the local operator. He placedthe mike close to his mouth.
"Hello, operator. Hello, operator. I cannot hear you so do not answer.Call the emergency operator--signal 14, I repeat--signal 14."
Jon kept repeating the message until the searching men began to approachhis position. He left the mike connected--the men wouldn't notice it inthe dark but the open line would give the unknown powers his exactlocation. Using his fingertips he did a careful traverse on an I-beam toan alcove in the farthest corner of the room. Escape was impossible, allhe could do was stall for time.
"Mr. Coleman, I'm sorry I ran away." With the volume on full his voicerolled like thunder from the echoing walls.
He could see the men below twisting their heads vainly to find thesource.
"If you let me come back and don't kill me I will do your work. I wasafraid of the bomb, but now
I am afraid of the guns." It sounded alittle infantile, but he was pretty sure none of those present had anysound knowledge of robotic intelligence.
"Please let me come back ... sir!" He had almost forgotten the lastword, so he added another "Please, sir!" to make up.
Coleman needed that package under the boat very badly, he would promiseanything to get it. Jon had no doubts as to his eventual fate, all hecould hope to do was kill time in the hopes that the phone message wouldbring aid.
"Come on down, Junky, I won't be mad at you--if you follow directions."Jon could hear the hidden anger in his voice, the unspoken hatred for arobe who dared lay hands on him.
The descent wasn't difficult, but Jon did it slowly with much apparentdiscomfort. He hopped into the center of the floor--leaning on the casesas if for support. Coleman and Druce were both there as well as a groupof hard-eyed newcomers. They