Insidekick
Page 4
observation. Theguard, of course, didn't object, and Kemmer, when he heard of it, couldonly grind his teeth in frustration. He was on delicate enough groundwithout making it worse by not taking adequate precautions to preservethe health of his unwilling guest. Somehow that infernal snoop hadescaped again....
Albert moved his head with infinite labor and looked at the intravenousapparatus dripping a colorless solution into the vein in the elbow jointof his extended left arm. He felt no pain, but his physical weakness wasappalling. He could move only with the greatest effort, and theslightest exertion left him dizzy and breathless. It was obvious that hehad been poisoned, and that it was a miracle of providence that he hadsurvived. It was equally obvious that a reappraisal of his position wasin order. Someone far higher up the ladder than Shifaz was responsiblefor this latest attempt on his life. The native couldn't possibly havereached him in the safety of IC's jail.
The implications were unpleasant. Someone important feared him enough towant him dead, which meant that his knowledge of illicit tobacco was notas secret as he thought. It would be suicide to stay in the hands of theIC any longer. Somehow he had to get out and inform the Patrol.
He looked at the intravenous drip despondently. If the solution waspoisoned, there was no help for him. It was already half gone. But hedidn't feel too bad, outside of being weak. It probably was all right.In any event, he would have to take it. The condition of his bodywouldn't permit anything else.
He sighed and relaxed on the bed, aware of the drowsiness that wascreeping over him. When he awoke, he would do something about thissituation, but he was sleepy now.
* * * * *
Albert awoke strong and refreshed. He was as hungry as he always wasbefore breakfast. Whatever was in that solution, it had certainly workedmiracles. As far as he could judge, he was completely normal.
The medic was surprised to find him sitting up when she made her morningrounds. It was amazing, but this case was amazing in more ways than one.Last night he had been in a state of complete collapse, and now he waswell on the road to recovery.
Albert looked at her curiously. "What was in that stuff you gave me?"
"Just dextrose and saline," she said. "I couldn't find anything wrongwith you except hypoglycemia and dehydration, so I treated that." Shepaused and eyed him with a curiosity equal to his own. "Just what do youthink happened?" she asked.
"I think I was poisoned."
"That's impossible."
"Possibly," Albert conceded, "but it might be an idea to check that foodI left all over the cell."
"That was cleaned up hours ago."
"Convenient, isn't it?"
"I don't know what you mean by that," she said. "Someone in the kitchensmight have made a mistake. Yet you were the only case." She lookedthoughtful. "I think I will do a little checking in the Central Kitchen,just to be on the safe side." She smiled a bright professional smile."Anyway, I'm glad to see that you have recovered so well. I'm sure youcan go back tomorrow."
She vanished through the door with a rustle of white dacron. Albert,after listening a moment to make sure that she was gone, rose to hisfeet and began an inspection of his room.
It wasn't a jail cell. Not quite. But it wasn't designed for easyescape, either. It was on the top floor of the IC building, a goodhundred feet down to the street below. The window was covered with asteel grating and the door was locked. But both window and door weredesigned to hold a sick man rather than a healthy and desperate one.
Albert looked out of the window. The building was constructed toharmonize with native structures surrounding it, so the outer walls werestudded with protuberances and bosses that would give adequate handholdsto a man strong enough to brave the terrors of the descent.
Looking down the wall, Albert wavered. Thinking back, he made up hismind.
* * * * *
Fred Kemmer was disturbed. By all the rules, Albert Johnson should bedead. But Shifaz had failed, and that fool guard _had_ to call in themedics. It was going to be harder to get at Johnson, now that he was inthe infirmary, but he had to be reached.
One might buy off an agent who was merely checking on tax evasion, buttobacco was another matter entirely. Kemmer wished he hadn't agreed toboss Operation Weed. The glowing dreams of promotion and fortune werebeginning to yellow around the edges. Visions of the Penal Colonybothered him, for if the operation went sour, he would do the paying. Hehad known that when he took the job, but the possibility seemed remotethen.
He shook his head. It wasn't that bad yet. As long as Johnson hadn'tcommunicated with anyone else and as long as he was still in companyhands, something could be done.
Kemmer thought a while, trying to put himself in Johnson's place.Undoubtedly the spy was frightened, and undoubtedly he would try toescape. And since it would be far easier to escape from the infirmarythan it would be from detention, he would try as soon as possible.
Kemmer's face cleared. If Johnson tried it, he would find it wasn't aseasy as he thought.
With characteristic swiftness, Kemmer outlined his plans and made thenecessary arrangements. A guard was posted in the hall with orders toshoot if Johnson tried the door of his room, and Kemmer himself took astand in the building across the street, facing the hospital, where hecould watch the window of Albert's room. As he figured it, the windowwas the best bet. He stroked the long-barreled blaster lying beside him.Johnson still hadn't a chance, but these delays in disposing of him werebecoming an annoyance.
Cautiously, Albert tried the grating that covered the window. TheAntarian climate had rusted the heavy screws that fastened it to thecasing. One of the bars was loose. If it could be removed, it wouldserve as a lever to pry out the entire grating.
Albert twisted at the bar. It groaned and squealed. He nervously appliedmore pressure, and the bar moved slowly out of its fastenings.
* * * * *
The Zark observed his actions curiously. Now why was its host twistingthat rod of metal out of the woodwork? It didn't know, and it wasconsumed with curiosity. It had found no way to communicate with itshost so that some of the man's queer actions could be understood; in theportions of the brain it had explored, there were no portals ofcommunication. However, there still was a large dormant portion, andperhaps here lay the thing it sought. The Zark inserted a number oftendrils into the blank areas, probing, connecting synapses, openingunused pathways, looking for what it hoped existed.
The results of this action were completely unforeseen by the Zark, forit was essentially just a subordinate ego with all the lacks which thatimplied--and it had never before inhabited a body that possessed apotentially first-class brain. With no prior experience to draw upon,the Zark couldn't possibly guess that its actions would result in apeculiar relationship between the man and the world around him. And ifthe Zark had known, it probably wouldn't have cared.
Albert removed the bar and pried out the grating. With only a momentaryhesitation, he lowered himself over the sill until his feet struck anornamental knob on the wall. He glanced quickly down. There was anotherprotuberance about two feet below the one on which he was standing.Pressing against the wall, he inched one foot downward until it foundthe foothold. With relief, he shifted his weight to the lower foot, andas he did a wave of heat enveloped his legs. The protuberance came loosefrom the wall with a grating noise mixed with the crackling hiss of ablaster bolt, and Albert plunged toward the street below.
As the pavement rushed at him, he had time for a brief, fervent wishthat he were someplace else. Then the thought was swallowed in an icyblackness.
* * * * *
Fred Kemmer lowered the blaster with a grin of satisfaction. He hadfigured his man correctly, and now the spy would be nothing to worryabout. He watched the plummeting body--and gasped with consternation,for less than ten feet above the pavement, Albert abruptly vanished!
There is such a thing as too much surprise, to
o much shock, too muchamazement. And that precisely was what affected Albert when he foundhimself standing on the street where the IC guards had picked him up. Byrights, he should have been a pulpy smear against the pavement beneaththe infirmary window. But he was not. He didn't question why he washere, or consider how he had managed to avoid the certain death thatwaited for him. The fact was that he had done it, somehow. And that wasenough.
It was almost like history repeating itself. Shifaz was at his usualstand haranguing another group of tourists. It was the same spiel asbefore, and almost at the same point of the pitch. But his actions uponseeing Albert were entirely different. His eyes widened, but this timehe slid quietly from his perch on the cornerstone of the building anddisappeared into the milling crowd.
Albert followed. The fact that Shifaz was somewhere in that crowd wasenough to