The Enemy Within

by L. Ron Hubbard

  Curious, I picked the lock of the door to her bed­room.

  She was gone!

  Oh, well, probably out for a walk to get some fresh air.

  I myself felt masterful. Suddenly I realized that my luck had changed, that it had been changed for some time in fact. The thing to do is ride the crest of good luck. I would take this telescope and go over, right now, and have a look at Heller's suite.

  I looked at a street map, found I was only a mile or so from the Gracious Palms. I got dressed in dark clothes. The telescope was in a thin, long case with a carrying handle, so I picked it up.

  Shortly, in a cab, I arrived at an apartment house just north of the Gracious Palms. It was a very quiet street. The apartment house seemed old. There was no doorman I could bribe to let me on the roof. There was only a vast array of polished brass mailboxes and buzzers.

  Genius. I would choose a name on the top floor, get entrance and then, agilely, get onto the roof.

  A top-floor apartment—22B. And what a name, "Margarita Pompom Pizzazz." What an attractive name! Probably a showgirl with lots of boyfriends, used to being buzzed late at night. I buzzed.

  Apparently you got a phone call back and you had to answer the phone. It rang. I answered.

  "Who is it?" said a voice—the quality of the phone was bad.

  "An old flame," I said, hoping the quality was equally as bad on the way back up the wires.

  The door clicker clicked promptly. I pushed it open, got in the elevator and got out on the 22nd floor. There was a stairway emergency escape to the roof at the end of the hall. I headed for it.

  Halfway there, I became aware of a door cracked open on a chain. It was 22B. A voice said, "Who are you?" Musically.

  Through the three-inch crack I could see part of a woman's face. She must be about sixty! Welcome still reg­istered on it.

  "Roof inspector," I said.

  "What?" No welcome.

  "Roof inspector," I repeated. "Got to inspect the roof."

  "You mean you didn't come up here for a fling?"

  No, no. I was a lot too spent! "Roof inspector," I said, tapping the case I held.

  The door slammed. Loudly!

  Oh well, I'd heard it takes all kinds to make this planet. I went on up the stairs. The emergency exit door was locked. I picked it expertly. It opened upon a roof festooned with tall air-conditioner units which blocked clear views.

  In two minutes or less I had oriented myself and had the telescope out of its case. I went over to the parapet and, from what I knew of the view from inside his suite, tried to pick out which building and which suite. It was a little confusing until I found I was looking north instead of south. I corrected this.

  After that, it was easy. I turned on and tuned in the telescope. It did everything the late Mr. Spurk claimed. I was looking into the synthetic-jungle/synthetic-beach room. A small brown diplomat, with his top hat still on, was really making a score with a coal-black girl! They were rolling over and over in the synthetic grass while the synthetic sunlight scorched them. But there was nothing synthetic about that lovemaking!

  Finally, from somewhere he produced a rope and managed to get it around her ankles and her wrists. And then he really gave it to her!

  I thought I had been satisfied this evening. I began to get aroused. He was going to kill her for sure!

  But suddenly it was all over. She shucked off the rope as though it had not existed. She said, "Was that the way it was, Mr. Boola?"

  He said, "Exactly! Let's do it all again!"

  Ah, well. I hadn't come here for recreation. I moved the telescope along. I was looking into Heller's sitting room. It was quite dim.

  Everything was very neat except for some ice-cream dishes sitting on the bar and they were stacked just right and ready for a houseman to take. Leave it to Heller. His neatness grated on you if nothing else did!

  It sure was a beautiful living room, even seen in the half-light.

  I moved the telescope along. I was looking into his bedroom. It was confusing! Mirrors! For a moment I couldn't tell which was the bed and which was any one of fifty multiplying images. I found the bed. Huge, cir­cular; enough bed for a half-dozen people.

  There was Heller! Lying on his side, blond head pil­lowed on one upflung arm. Sleeping peacefully. Without a care in the world for all the trouble he was causing me! He was all alone in bed! Not a trace of anyone else!

  And then the telescope slipped and tipped up at the ceiling mirror. Was that someone on the other pillow? A face? A small, three-dimensional face? I increased the magnification. A Voltar three-dimensional bust picture! THE COUNTESS KRAK!

  I was stunned. Perhaps it was because those pictures look so lifelike despite their cloud and sky backgrounds, but it was sort of like the Countess Krak was looking at me! There she was, blond hair, gray-blue eyes, perfect fea­tures. He must have sneaked a portraitist in one night on the tug in Voltar.

  He had been carrying her picture in his baggage! And there it was, lying on the pillow next to him. For some reason, I knew not why, it made me uneasy. Then I threw it off. What a dog he was, having all these women every day and still putting out Countess Krak's picture!

  But that wasn't why I was here. By adjusting focus, I began to inspect closets.

  He sure had a lot of clothes! And there sure were a lot of bass plugs in those cabi­nets! Death traps!

  But the telescope couldn't comb through stacks of sweaters and other things.

  One door was very tightly barred and locked. I had a ray of hope. Maybe he only locked it when he went to bed. Maybe, had I been earlier, he would have opened it.

  It occurred to me that we were approaching the time when he would be writing his third report. If I got very, very lucky and got here earlier tomorrow night before he went to bed, he might be writing his report or at least have that closet open.

  I resisted the temptation to look in on more diplo­mats at play. I went into the stairwell, locked the door, walked down to the 22nd floor and was shortly back in the street again. How easy! Nothing to it when you're Apparatus trained.

  Back at the hotel, Utanc still wasn't in. But I went to bed. It had been a busy night!

  Chapter 5

  I idled through the following day. I did not see Utanc, but then, I didn't expect to. I was getting con­ditioned to hanging around hotel rooms alone.

  The afternoon papers had an item of interest. Rocke­center had roared in from a conference with kings and dictators and things in the Middle East where he had set­tled the world problems of energy forever until next week when the price was going up again. Nice front-page pic­ture of him being handed a bouquet of calla lilies by Miss Peace. The photographer had had a bit of trouble shooting around and through the two or three hundred soldiers carrying cocked guns. I hadn't known he had been out of town. My luck was surely in. Tomorrow I would make an appointment and see him. But Senator Twiddle surely had been right about it being hard to get close to Delbert John Rockecenter. Those soldiers. And even while the ceremony was going on, apparently, Miss Peace was being frisked by a personal bodyguard.

  As to this night's planned work, I knew that Heller would probably be up and around in his suite about nine. Earlier observations on the viewer told me that. And he was not well enough trained to know that safety lay in not repeating habit patterns.

  Accordingly, I had dinner in my room and, carrying my case, at 8:45 P.M. stood once more in the lobby of the apartment house.

  It had worked once. It would work twice. I boldly pushed the button of Margarita Pompom Pizzazz.

  The voice on the phone. "Well?"

  I opted to be charming. "I was in too much of a hurry last night. I was impolite. Could you let me in again?"

  The door clicked. In I went and up I went in the ele­vator. I headed for the emergency exit. Her door was cracked open again.

  "Roof inspector," I said.

  "And?" said the voice in the door.

  "And nothing," I said. "Roof insp
ector!"

  The door really slammed!

  I went up the stairwell, picked the lock and shortly there I was, training the telescope on Heller's walls.

  He was up!

  Unfortunately, as a swift side glance showed, the tar­get closet was shut tight. I swivelled the telescope back. Heller was sitting on the couch reading something.

  Bang-Bang was watching TV. Heller got up and got him­self a Seven Up. There was a knock on the door.

  Vantagio came in. He had a girl by the arm. She was in street clothes. "This is Margie," said Vantagio. "The girl I phoned up about."

  "Have a seat, Vantagio," said Heller. "No, no. Busy night. Listen, kid, I just want you and Bang-Bang to break this Margie in. She just came on. She doesn't know. She's new."

  Oho, so Heller broke in the new girls, did he! Oh, Krak would love to know about this!

  Heller looked at the girl. "You really want to do this? It's kind of rough the first time."

  The girl said, "Oh, yes! I heard you really had some­thing big going!"

  Bang-Bang said, "I'm leaving. I can only stand to do this just so often! It wears me out. I get sore!"

  Vantagio said, "Shut up, Bang-Bang. Please, kid. Just one more girl. It helps their morale. The other girls feel pretty cocky when you're through with them."

  Bang-Bang was trying to leave. "Stay right where you are, Bang-Bang," said Heller.

  Vantagio said, "Do you want her stripped, kid?

  Lying down or standing up?" He turned to the girl.

  "Take off your coat and skirt." He started to help her.

  Heller said, "Vantagio, you better watch it or I'll use you!"

  The Sicilian got the girl's skirt off but he withdrew to the door. "No, you won't. I'm getting too old. I'm going right now," he said and left.

  Heller turned to the girl. She was standing there in her slip now. She was looking at Heller adoringly. "Sit there," he said. "Now, how much experience have you had?"

  The girl sat down, her knees apart. She decided she had too much on and shucked the slip over her head, leav­ing herself with just panties and a bra.

  "Oh," she said. "A few boys in Duluth. Just high-school stuff, mainly. In a car, back of the gym. One or two professors. And my brother, of course. Nothing important."

  Heller said, "Ever get battered around?"

  The girl thought it over. "Oh, yeah. Once. A drunk raped me."

  Heller said, "Now we're getting somewhere. What did you do?"

  "I tried to hold him off and then he just knocked me out, ripped my clothes off and raped me."

  "Okay, Bang-Bang," said Heller. "Start to rape her! You get started. I'll finish up."

  Bang-Bang groaned. But he got up. He grabbed the girl by the arms and threw her down on the floor. He ripped her bra off. He grabbed the band of the panties and pulled them down and off and threw them away.

  Heller said, "That's enough. Now listen, Margie. Why did you let him do that?"

  "You told him to," said the girl.

  "No, no, no!" said Heller. "Now you grab Bang-Bang's arms and start to rape him!"

  The girl rose up and seized Bang-Bang with a will.

  Bang-Bang simply threw his wrists up and the girl sailed halfway across the room!

  Heller caught her in midair. He put her down and said to her, "Now, you do that."

  Bang-Bang grabbed her. The girl threw her wrists up the same way Bang-Bang had. Bang-Bang went stag­gering.

  "Hey!" the girl said. "He couldn't keep hold of me!" Heller sat the girl down in a chair. He said, "Now, listen. The main trouble whores have is getting abused physically. Getting beat up."

  "According to Vantagio," said Bang-Bang, "it makes them amortize too fast. But he never thinks of guys like me!"

  Heller ignored him. He said to the girl, "Now, what we're going to teach you first is how to shake any grip any man can put on you. Then we'll teach you how to attack. It's not easy."

  "Especially on me," said Bang-Bang morosely.

  Heller said to the girl, "With practice you can not only learn those things, you can also learn to appear to be under a man's control but actually remain completely able to handle him, drunk or sober. Get it?"

  The girl's eyes were gleaming with enthusiasm. "Oh, yes! I promise I will study and practice hard! The other girls here absolutely love it! They say they never get beat up anymore."

  "It's only me that gets beat up," said Bang-Bang with a groan.

  Heller went over to pour them some Seven Up. The girl said to Bang-Bang in a low voice, "I should think he must have invented these tricks himself just to beat off all the girls. He's awful cute, Mr. Bang-Bang. Is it true like they say he's a virgin?"

  I was in total, utter disgust. How Heller was con­ning them! Pretending these were things he had dreamed up! He was teaching them Voltarian unarmed combat! And he was a dithering fool, too! A whole houseful of beautiful women and he had been wasting his time teach­ing them how to protect themselves! A traitor to all men everywhere! How about all those who only got their kicks beating up whores? How about them? Thoughtless (bleepard).

  A man must be masterful!

  A tiny sound behind me!

  My head whirled away from the telescope!

  Standing on the roof just outside the access door, bathed in red light from below, was Margarita Pompom Pizzazz!

  She was in a flowered bathrobe!

  She looked like a sixty-year-old Demon from Hells!

  What was that in her hand? A huge, lethal-looking weapon! A BB pistol!

  She saw she was detected!

  She raised the BB airgun!

  In a snarling voice of hate she said, "Put up your hands, you Peeping Tom! This is your last chance or I'll shoot! Trifling with my affections! Breaching your prom­ises!"

  She gestured ferociously with the BB gun. "You're finished! I phoned the police there was a sniper on the roof! A SWAT team will arrive any minute and blow you to bits! So this is your last chance!"

  I flinched. There were huge, standing air-conditioner units in place all around on the roof. If I could withdraw behind one...

  I moved back!

  She fired!

  The pellet struck the side of the fragile telescope! Sparks from its electronics flew!

  So did I!

  I backed in a flash behind an air-conditioner stack.

  She fired again!

  I held on to the telescope. I might need it as a weapon!

  Going crabwise, I drew further away, taking advan­tage of every square inch of cover!

  She was following me up!

  My head was in view for an instant.

  The deadly pffft! of the air pistol coupled with the dang of the pellet striking sheet metal right beside my head!

  She was a deadly marksman! A killer! Maybe a hit woman in her youth!

  I skittered further! I took another peek. Bathrobe flaring like the cloak of an avenging horseman, she was following me up!

  Another lethal pffft! and deadly clang!

  Oh, this called for top Class A strategy! And a SWAT team on its way? This called for Joint Chiefs of Staff Maximum National Emergency Plan Triple X! Maybe atomic bombs!

  I drew back in a wide circle through the maze of air conditioners.

  In full cry, shouting, "Surrender now, you (bleepard)!" and "Geronimo!" each time she shot, she was following me up.

  To get back to the roof-access door and escape, I had to cross three open spaces. I screwed up my courage. I dashed across the first one!

  She fired! A miss.

  I poised to cross the second. She was circling away from the access door to get a cleaner shot. I measured my timing perfectly. I dashed!

  She fired! A miss!

  I crouched behind an air conditioner. I looked at that last open area. Dangerous! I was taking my life in my hands! But I couldn't stay on that roof with this yowling Demon!

  I braced myself. I dashed!

  My rump was struck a mighty blow! It stung!

&nb
sp; Seeing I had not received a mortal wound, I leaped into the stairwell!

  I got the door closed just as another BB crashed against it!

  I locked it from inside. Six steps at a time, I flew down the stairs!

  Hammering on the roof door above! Frustrated howls of rage! They lent wings to my feet!

  Twenty-two flights down, I burst into the lobby.

  There was no one there. The commotion was all upstairs.

  I snatched the door open, thankful that they were never locked from inside.

  Into the dark street I sped. I crossed it.

  Police cars!

  Three abreast they were coming up the street!

  My way was blocked!

  I dived into a handy basement stairway.

  Only then did I dare look up and back.

  She was standing on the roof edge! She had the pistol in one hand and was waving something in the other. The telescope case! I had forgotten it! She looked like some Demon twenty-two stories up against the sky.

  She was screaming something. Too far away to get the words. She had spotted me crossing the street! She was pointing and howling.

  I still had the telescope in my hand. Evidence! It was ruined. I hastily dumped it into a garbage can close by and resumed my cover.

  She had seen me again!

  I couldn't tell what she was screaming. She was point­ing down toward me, waving the case and pistol.

  The SWAT team!

  They spilled out of the cars. They rushed into posi­tion.

  I recognized the man in the third police car! It was Inspector Bulldog Grafferty!

  This required triple think! That demented creature up there was pointing down at me. She could still see me! She was waving the BB pistol and the telescope case.

  Genius came to my rescue. At the top of my lungs, I shouted, "Take cover! That's Mad Maggie, the Times Square Sniper!"

  The SWAT team scattered like a puff of dust!

  There was a shattering blast of rifle fire!

  Margarita Pompom Pizzazz, riddled with bullets, came off the roof in a long, slow, high dive and went thunk on the pavement.