Point Ultimate

by Jerry Sohl

  Now came the big test. He clenched his fists, leaned against the massage table.

  “Tell Igor I want him,” he said in a loud voice.

  There was no answer.

  He waited, counting the seconds until sixty of them had passed. Then he said irritably, “I told you to send Igor to me. He should be here by now.”

  “He is coming, Mr. Gniessin,” the speaker said.

  Mr. Gniessin! had said the brain was smarter than Gniessin. Could this be a trick? Was the identity bracelet enough?

  Presently Igor came through the door.

  “Igor,” Emmett said, “go to the safe and get Dr. Smeltzer his usual ration and take it to him. He’s in his room.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The robot shuffled out.

  Emmett was exultant. I’m Gniessin now. I’m king of the castle!

  The Enemy doctor!

  The Enemy doctor was due that night. That was something he had almost forgotten. He would have to get out of there fast.

  He left the steam room.

  Dr. Smeltzer was feeling better already when he got there.

  “Igor just left,” the doctor said, making an effort to smile as he sat on the edge of the bed, the empty hypodermic at his side. “Thanks for convincing Gniessin I needed it.” He shook his head, wiped the forehead with an edge of the sheet. “You haven’t any idea how it is, Keyes--”

  “Don’t talk,” Emmett said quickly, casting a glance at the scanner. What must the brain think of his being addressed as Keyes?

  “What happened to your wrist?”

  “I said don’t talk,” Emmett said sharply. He found a sheet of paper on the dresser. “Do you have a pencil?”

  “In the drawer there, I think.” The doctor made no effort to get up. He only sat on the bed and looked at him dazedly. “What’s going on?”

  Emmett sat at Smeltzer’s dresser. Gniessin is dead, he wrote. He died in the steam room. I have changed bracelets with him. The brain thinks Ym Gniessin. Call me that.

  He handed the slip of paper to the puzzled Smeltzer, stood between the man and the scanner as he read it. How else to communicate with the man considering all the sensing devices around? Smeltzer, he saw, was agitated as he read it, rereading it and then turning frantic eyes on Keyes, his mouth working, his tongue running along his lips.

  “I . . . I. . .” he started to say bewilderedly. Then he blinked several times in an obvious effort to control himself. “I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Gniessin.” His eyes were pregnant with questions. He glanced fearfully at the scanner. Then he said, “If it’s something important you have to say, Mr. Gniessin, you could instruct the brain not to monitor it. You could ask it to interrupt for only something important.”

  “Of course.” Would this work? Or was this just a wild suggestion? Emmett turned to the scanner. “Cut off the scanners and microphones in this room until I instruct otherwise from another point. Interrupt only in an emergency. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Mr. Gniessin.” There was an audible click.

  “Can you hear me?” Emmett asked.

  There was no answer.

  “So it is true!” Smeltzer said, eyes glowing. He rose from the bed. “Youre wearing Gniessin's bracelet! How did you kill him? How did you get by Jascha?”

  “I didn't kill him. He went into the steam room and didn't come out for a long time. Then we—Jascha and I—heard his voice calling for help. We both went in. Jascha tried to carry him out and collapsed right along with Gniessin.”

  “His heart.” Smeltzer nodded. “Yes, it was his heart, all right. I told him he took a chance every time he went into the steam room. No man in his condition should have done that. But Gniessin wasn't the kind of man who'd listen to you.” His eyes went to the bandaged wrist again. “Here, you better let me see that.” “That can wait. That Enemy doctor is due tonight. We've got to get out of here.”

  Smeltzer's face was one of surprise. “Out of here? I can't leave here!”

  “I'll tell Igor to bring you all the stuff there is in Gniessin's safe. That ought to take care of you until you work something out.”

  The doctor nodded vigorously. “Maybe there is a way. I'd be able to see LaVonne! And Tom! We'll go somewhere together.” He was jubilant. “I can't believe it, Keyes. It must be a dream.” “It's no dream the way this wrist is beginning to hurt.”

  “We've got to do something about that. What did you use to cut with?”

  “I broke the mineral oil bottle.”

  “There's apt to be infection. We'd better go to my office.”

  “Wait.” Emmett frowned thoughtfully. “Before we leave this room we'd better work things out. There ought to be a plan. First we'll go to your office and you can take care of this wrist. Then we’ll go to the roof and get a flier.”

  “You can drop me off in Peoria.”

  “We'd better get two fliers.”

  "Two?"

  “You can take the other one.”

  “But I couldn’t leave here in a flier. The brain wouldn’t let me.

  “You could if Mr. Gniessin said you could.”

  “That’s right, isn’t it?” Smeltzer smiled. “I keep forgetting that. This is wonderful . . . wonderful . . And then his face clouded.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Oh, I just thought of LaVonne. I’ll have to do a lot of explaining. And she doesn’t think I’m addicted any more.” He brightened. “But I’ll tell her the truth. Maybe she can help me out of it. Maybe she can get me off the stuff. God knows I want to be rid of it.”

  “The whole thing won’t be easy.”

  “I realize that. I don’t know where we’ll go or what we’ll do. Or what we’ll use for money.” He looked up. “Say, do you suppose Gniessin’s got some money around here somewhere? That’s half the battle when you’re moving around, you know. You can do anything with money.”

  Emmett nodded. “I hadn’t thought of money. I was thinking of weapons. But money will come in handy.”

  “And we’ve got to go where we’re going before the doctor gets here. I see that now. Once he gets here and finds out what’s happened. . . . Supposing we’re in fliers when he arrives and the brain tells him where we are? He’ll order the brain to bring the fliers back. And then we’ll be back here again. Only we won’t be guests.”

  “I think I’ve got a way to stop that,” Emmett said. “I’m ready to go to your office now if you are.”

  CHAPTER - 14

  “It’s a nasty wound,” Dr. Smeltzer said, getting the sutures ready. “You really hacked away with that piece of glass.”

  “I was in a hurry,” Emmett said.

  “I believe it.”

  “I thought maybe Igor’d come through the door before I made the transfer.” In Gniessin’s name he had cut off the sensory devices in the doctor’s office. “Do you think I should get rid of the bracelet once I get out of here? If I did, I’d have to cut it off. My wrist ought to look like hamburger by that time.”

  Smeltzer shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe you should just leave it. You can’t notice it, just looking at it. Maybe it will come in handy.”

  Emmett remembered the way his wrist had been examined in the implement shed. “And it might do just the opposite, too.” “The thing that amazes me, Keyes, is how you are able to operate as Gniessin without Jascha. I should think the brain would wonder about that. Didn’t you say anything to it about him?” “I figured the brain knows Jascha’s inoperative.”

  “You must be right. Otherwise you’d never get away with it.” “I thought it best to leave well enough alone, Doctor. As it is, it’s best nobody—especially the brain—finds out Jascha’s got sev-

  eral cracks in his upper story. It seems a heavy object fell on his head. A scale, in fact.”

  “Well, then there shouldn’t be any trouble in that department.”

  Emmett winced when the doctor inserted the curved needle. “Still hurt? I’ll put on a little more anesthetic.” He let a few d
rops fall on the livid flesh. “Where are you going when you get out of here?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. North, I guess.” Into Emmett’s mind flashed a picture of the land north of the villa as seen from the roof, a spread of treetops, an end to the lawn and the farms beyond. Cornwall was in that direction. The gypsies would be gone now, but he’d learn where they went, for wherever they were, there’s where he’d find Ivy—maybe.

  He looked at the doctor closely, saw his concentration, his back bent to the task of sewing up the jagged cuts he had made in his flesh. There was no trace of Smeltzer’s weakness of an hour ago. Now he was calm and entirely natural. If ever a man could be trusted . . . but the commies might catch him and if they did, if they deprived him of what he needed, he’d tell them all he knew about Emmett Keyes. Including where he was going. No, he couldn’t tell the doctor anything about the gypsies or about Ivy.

  “Still going to hunt anti-commies, eh? Well, it’s a worthwhile ambition. But it’s also a hopeless one, don’t you think?”

  “What about the Millenaries? Aren’t they the underground?” Smeltzer shook his head. “They’re a bunch of crackpots, if you ask me. They think the world’s coming to an end on December thirty-first, nineteen ninety-nine, at midnight. They’re all making plans to die. I’ve heard their speeches.”

  “Couldn’t it be a cover-up?”

  “Not from what I heard. All gobbledegook.”

  “How about the gypsies, then,” Emmett said casually.

  “Gypsies? Well”—the doctor glanced at him for a moment— “something I said out in the garden, about the home we had for unwed mothers-to-be or illegally pregnant women. Do you remember that?”

  “You said something about how you managed to send them there until the Enemy closed it.”

  “That’s right. But its not exactly the truth. What really happened is several men came to me and pretended to be patients. There was nothing wrong with them, so I was on my guard. Then they started needling me about my political sympathies, which is nothing unusual, considering all the investigators there are. But there was something about each of these men that was different from the usual spy, don’t ask me what it was, just the way they said things, the way they asked the questions. Finally, when they seemed to be satisfied I was no commie sympathizer, one of them asked me if I would send all the unlawfully pregnant women to him. He said he had an arrangement whereby the babies could be born without fear of occupation interference or reprisal.”

  The doctor completed his sewing, put his materials away.

  “Did you send anybody to him?” Emmett asked.

  “Not directly. I merely told the girls that such a place existed and gave them the address. It was a sort of last resort and I let them make up their own minds. They had a choice between the certainty of occupation punishment or the uncertainty of this other thing. Of all the women I told that to, none ever came back. But I found out in two cases that the girls left their homes —just disappeared. I don’t know what happened to them, but I know the Enemy didn’t get them. They always publicize each case where a woman is caught in that condition, you know, including the punishment.”

  “Yes, I know. Do you suppose the rest of them went to this address you gave?”

  “I think so because one day one of the girls returned and told me there was no one at that address any longer. She said she learned there had been a fight between occupation police and the people who lived there. More than a score of persons were arrested. The next day this girl herself was arrested because

  she had been seen near the place and somebody reported her for asking questions. That in turn made me curious about the whole thing and I did a little discreet investigating of my own. It ended in a blank wall. Nobody knew the group who inhabited the house, nobody knew where the girls had been taken, though the traffic in unlawful pregnancies had been going on for some time, from what I could gather. But the reason I tell you this is that several people said they thought the people were gypsies. Don’t ask me why. The people I talked to—mostly patients of mine—only mentioned their dark complexion. After making the inquiries I thought I’d be arrested myself, but I had been secretive enough and escaped it at that time.”

  “And you never saw the men again, they never gave you another address?”

  Smeltzer shook his head. “No. They must have been in the group that was arrested. That’s when I started the abortions. And you know the rest of that story.”

  There was a knock on the door.

  Both men whirled, startled. The doctor dropped a packet of surgical needles and they fell open on the floor and scattered.

  “Who can that be?” the doctor whispered, looking with anxious eyes at Emmett. “The other doctor never comes until after dinner.

  “Wouldn’t the brain have interrupted to tell us he was here?”

  “It must be Bradshaw.”

  The knock was repeated. Louder now.

  Emmett wished the scanner was operating so he could ask who was at the door. There could be no further delay without arousing suspicion.

  “Come in,” Emmett sang out.

  The door slid open and Bradshaw came in quickly.

  He stopped short when he saw them. His eyes darted about the room.

  Finally his eyes came to rest on the sutured wrist. They grew large. Then they narrowed.

  The man looked at Emmett and now Emmett knew he knew

  the truth. Behind the eyes were questions and an intensity of hate Emmett had not thought possible in the man.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Keyes? Why’s your wrist like that?”

  “He developed an infection around his identity bracelet,” Smeltzer said. “I had to take it off and sterilize the infected area and put it back.”

  “I asked Keyes,” Bradshaw said.

  “The doctor’s right, Bradshaw.”

  “Is he?” He smiled thinly, went to the viewphone. In a moment the head of a robot appeared there.

  “Yes?”

  “This is Bradshaw. I thought you said Mr. Gniessin was in Dr. Smeltzer’s office, Boris.”

  “He is, sir.”

  “Have the brain scan the room and tell me who’s in it right now.”

  “The room’s not monitored, sir. Mr. Gniessin ordered the devices cut off momentarily.”

  “I see. Can you tell who is in this room through any device on the phone?”

  “Yes, sir. Yourself, Dr. Smeltzer and Mr. Gniessin.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re wel--”

  Bradshaw snapped the viewphone toggle, turned to face Emmett. His smile was a triumphant one. “Something’s happened to Mr. Gniessin and you’re wearing his identity bracelet, Keyes.”

  “Now what would make you think a thing like that?” Emmett said, returning the smile and getting to his feet. Bradshaw must not leave the room.

  Bradshaw saw what Emmett intended. He glanced at the door as if measuring the distance. Then he suddenly leaped from the table, something shiny in his hand.

  Emmett had expected a move toward the door. He was caught off balance. Something hard hit his head. There were brilliant flashes. He went down.

  There was a scuffle. Emmett could see it through pain-dimmed eyes. Two men hitting each other, moving about above him. He shook his head to clear it. He started to his feet.

  A heavy body collided with him and he staggered, but did not fall. Then for a moment Bradshaw’s evil face was inches from his own.

  Then the man was clawing at his wrist!

  This he must not do!

  Emmett wrenched himself free. Bradshaw lunged. Emmett pivoted. The cook went by.

  Now they were a few feet apart and Bradshaw was turning for another charge.

  Emmett balled a fist, clenched his teeth and advanced before the man could come at him. He rushed a little, feinted, saw the opening Bradshaw left as he threw up an arm to thwart the blow. Emmett’s fist connected solidly with the man’s midsection. The cook gasped, d
oubled over.

  Emmett’s only other blow of the bout, unleashed a moment later, caught Bradshaw on the side of his jaw. His head snapped to one side and he fell.

  Emmett stood looking down at the fallen man from whose lips blood ran in a bright red trickle. Then he looked at the doctor. There was an ugly gash in his head.

  “You all right?” Emmett asked, breathing hard.

  “I’m still in one piece, if that’s what you mean. But Bradshaw nearly knocked me out with that colorimeter. I don’t know why I didn’t put the damn thing away.” He came over to the cook, fingering the cut on his forehead. “What are we going to do with this hot-tempered bastard?”

  “I know what I’d like to do with him,” Emmett said. “But I think I’ll be real nasty and not do anything right now. He’ll never find another Gniessin to cook for, so he’ll eventually be relegated to the outside again. Then he’ll find out how bad things are.”

  “You’ll never convince a man like Bradshaw. He’ll work his way into another easy job somewhere.”

  “Perhaps. But right now I’ll have Igor put him away for a

  while. Lock him in his room. Then he’ll have a long time to think how wonderful the occupation is. Then I suggest we get out of here before something else happens.”

  I'm ready,” the doctor said. TVe been ready for ten years.”

  CHAPTER - 15

  The flier purred softly and smoothly through the late afternoon sky, the farmlands below a mosaic of greens cut sharply by ruler-straight roads and meandering creeks and rivers. This is the heart of the corn country, Emmett mused, and it looks much as it did a hundred years ago, if you’d take away the tractors in the fields and the turbos on the roads. You couldn’t tell from the flier this was no longer the land of the free.

  There was comfort and safety in the air, particularly in an occupation forces flier such as this one that glided serenely over the quiet land. There was no enemy in sight. Who could challenge a flier from the villa of the area director? Who would dare to?

  For the first time in many days Emmett felt secure. Not because of the flier alone, but because he had two guns in his jacket—a sleeper and a heater, both small, compact and powerful. And in his trousers pocket was a bundle of currency of all denominations, a hundred times as much money as Mrs. Tisdail had given him. And on the seat beside him was a box of booster vials and a syringe. Dr. Smeltzer had urged him to take them. Emmett didn’t tell him he didn’t need them. The less Smeltzer knew, the better.