basement of thisbuilding. We have assumed that everything spoken into them wastransmitted over the radio and recorded at your end. That makes sense,doesn't it?"
Harry was confused. "So far, so good."
"We want those recordings, Mr. Payne."
They seemed to be convinced the microphones were his. Only Harry knew itwasn't true. But to admit it might mean he wouldn't leave Paula's placealive. He derived no comfort from the knowledge that someone else wasinterested in Paula's activities. That wasn't helping him with hisproblem of the moment. He could see no clear way out. He had to keepstalling. And as long as they were so sure of themselves it might evenbe to his advantage to maintain a certain arrogance.
"I might as well tell you, Thompson, I have no intention of cooperatinguntil I know a few facts about you and your friends. Like who you are,where you're from, what you're after ..."
"It is not necessary, in order to tell us where the recordings are,"smiled Mr. Thompson, "that you know anything more about us."
"It isn't necessary," said Harry, "but I want to know."
Chase started to voice an objection but Harry broke in.
"And don't tell me you have more persuasive ways of making me talk. Youcan use force but it'll take time. Your time is valuable or you wouldn'thave hustled me over here as fast as you did. So let's _not_ waste yourtime. You tell me, then I'll tell you."
Thompson glanced at his two compatriots. Their faces registereddissatisfaction. Their silence said that Harry was right. Time wasvaluable. They would follow the path of least resistance.
"Our point of origin," Mr. Thompson began, "is Correylla, roughlyseven-eighths the size of Earth, in the Syrybic Galaxy. It isapproximately ... in your figures ... seventy-five trillion milesdistant."
"Must be quite a trip." Harry tried to be placid.
Mr. Thompson was momentarily amused. "Travel through Time and Space issomething we take for granted. The farthest corners of the Universe areours for the reaching. That is the foremost reason for our visit to yourEarth. You might call us Galactic Observers. You see, we already controlthe twelve inhabited planets in our own Galaxy. And at this time we haveno desire to take on any more responsibility than that. But neither dowe want interference from another Galaxy ... such as this one!"
* * * * *
Harry was surprised. "You're giving this world a lot of credit. We'vebarely moved off the Earth. What makes you think we could cause yourpeople any trouble?"
"By merely projecting yourselves into space you have eliminated themajor obstacle to space travel. Remember it took thousands of years forsomeone on your Earth to discover electricity. But observe the wondersyou have accomplished with it in the relatively few years _since_ it wasdiscovered. The same principle applies to your conquest of space. We arenot here to do you harm, Mr. Payne. It is merely our intention to warnyou, when the time comes, of the dangers you face should you decide toventure too far."
"For people who intend no harm I'd say you and your friends are puttingon quite an unconvincing show."
"I assure you, Mr. Payne, our visit to Earth was intended purely forobservational purposes!"
"What do you mean, _was_?"
* * * * *
Thompson's face was grim. The easy chair that had accommodated hissmall, roundish frame so perfectly now appeared to be uncomfortable forhim. A redness crept into his cheeks and spread over his smooth, tightscalp.
"The fact is that your government has known about us for six months. Ourexact whereabouts has been a well guarded secret ... but they _wereinformed_ of our presence here on Earth."
"Informed! But who could tell them ..."
Chase broke in impatiently. "We are wasting time! We must get thoserecordings!"
The interruption was dismissed with a wave of Thompson's hand.
"Your government was informed by George Fisher."
"George Fisher!" Harry gulped.
"You see, Mr. Fisher ... that wasn't really his name, you understand ...was one of us ... a member of our observation team. After we arrivedhere ... well, you might say he defected, gave your government thebenefit of his somewhat limited knowledge."
Harry whistled. "And because of him your mission is no longerobservational."
"That remains to be seen."
Harry leaned forward on the sofa. "You have any ideas, Mr. Thompson,about why he defected? I'm curious to know why a man is unhappy enoughwith his own lot to run away and put himself in the hands of acivilization that is in every way alien to him."
Thompson's answer was brief and deliberately ambiguous. "Mr. Fisher wasa traitor. What more can be said of him?"
"So he didn't commit suicide," Harry muttered.
"That's right, Mr. Payne."
"I take it you're not sure of how much Fisher told the government beforeyou got to him."
"Mr. Fisher's limitations were familiar to us. It is the potential ofyour own scientists now that they have his information that we are mostconcerned with."
Keep stalling, Harry reminded himself ... keep speculating, guessing,theorizing, anything for time.
"So you know the project that Weapons Development is working on but youdon't know how much progress has been made. And you want to place one ofyour own people in there to find out."
"Thanks to you, we have succeeded in doing just that." Thompson smiledwith satisfaction, having kept his part of a bargain. "Now about thoserecordings...."
"I'm not through asking questions."
"But I'm through answering them, Mr. Payne. Tell us where the recordingsare."
* * * * *
Harry studied the clean, smooth surface of Thompson's face. There was agentleness in his large, round eyes. There was also an unfriendliness.Harry had to keep stalling. He knew any answer he gave them wouldshorten his life expectancy by about thirty-five years.
"You've gotten me into a mess of trouble, Mr. Thompson. I think you oweme a little more. My memory might prove clearer if I knew what was goingon at Weapons Development."
Thompson glanced at his two companions. They showed no sign of dissent.
"Very well, Mr. Payne. For some years now our people have been workingon a method of reversing the polarity of the atom. We have tried tocreate an electro-magnetic field which would repel rather than attract.Once we are able to accomplish this we can develop an instrument capableof disturbing the molecular structure of any object in the universe."
"In other words ..." Harry frowned at him, "a weapon capable ofdisintegration?"
"Precisely!"
Harry sat there, stunned. A few moments seemed hardly enough to digestthe knowledge that Weapons Development was working on the mostincredibly advanced weapon of all time. And Mr. Thompson and companywere out to sabotage it. Their people could not afford to allow anotherworld to beat them to the punch. Who controlled this weapon controlledthe universe. Stalling the aliens was more important than ever now. Hecouldn't heighten the danger to his own life. It wasn't worth a leadnickel anyway. If it had been, Thompson wouldn't have consented to tellhim this much.
Someone else had wired Paula's apartment. It was reasonable to assume itwas someone on his side.
"The recordings, please!!" Boles was becoming very impatient.
Harry looked up and found a gun at his head. "The recordings are at myoffice," he lied.
Thompson walked to the telephone table and brought the instrument tohim. "You will call your secretary," he said, "and tell her you havebeen detained at lunch. You are sending Mr. Chase to pick up therecordings."
Harry glanced around the room. Paula was sulking at the bar near thedoor. Drowning her conscience, he thought. They must have paid her afortune to sell out her own people. Boles and Chase both had their gunspoised. Thompson picked up the receiver and extended it to him.
There was no way out, no stalling them any longer. To make a break forit would be suicidal. In the state of confusion his mind was in, hecould think of onl
y one thing to do. When he reached Miss Conway, hewould have to warn her somehow--a few desperate words and pray that shewould be alert enough to realize he was in trouble and get theinformation to the authorities.
* * * * *
He took the phone and dialed. He gave the Fort Dickson operator hisoffice extension. He waited. The phone rang. It rang again. Then threemore times. Damn that girl! Her coffee breaks were extended vacations!
Finally the phone was picked up. But the voice that answered was male.
"Who is this?" Harry demanded.
The voice replied, "Colonel Waters."
"This is Harry. I'm at Paula Ralston's apartment ... emergency...!"
The three men were on top of him. Chase smashed the butt of his gunacross Harry's knuckles. The receiver fell to the floor. Harry let out apained groan as Boles' gun butt struck him on the temple. Thompsonreplaced the receiver. Harry was on the floor. He put his hands to hishead for protection as Chase savagely kicked at him. His vision blurredbut he managed to see that Paula was still at the bar sipping a drink,sadistically enjoying the whole show.
"He's no longer any use to us," Thompson declared. "You may do yourjob!"
Harry shook his head, fighting to stay conscious. His vision clearedlong enough to see Chase and Boles standing over him, their guns pointedat either side of his head.
There was a volley of deafening shots. There was smoke, voices, peoplerunning in every direction. More gunfire. Glass shattering. Furnitureknocked over.
But Harry felt no pain.
When he looked again Chase and Boles were no longer to be seen. Hecaught a glimpse of Thompson running for another position of cover. Afinal gunshot brought him to the floor.
Harry struggled to a sitting position. Then he saw Chase and Boles deadon the floor beyond the sofa. Half a dozen soldiers were in the processof subduing a swearing, clawing Paula Ralston.
And in the doorway he saw Miss Conway.
She looked incongruous as hell with a smouldering revolver in her hand.She crossed the room and knelt beside him. She pulled him around to lethis head rest on the sofa.
"Harry! Harry," she whispered, brushing his hair back, "are you hurtbadly? What did they do to you?"
He tried to get up.
"You stay right where you are, honey." Her voice was soothing andgentle. There was a soft, compassionate light in her eyes. No longerthat dumb stare. She leaned over and kissed him. "There. You're going tobe all right."
"What the hell are you doing here?" Harry bellowed.
"Now you just sit back and relax. I'm just doing my job."
"Your jo ..." A low steady wail rolled off his lips. "Oh, no! Say itisn't so. Tell me I'm really dead. I know I deserve to be."
"I may be the world's lousiest secretary, but I'm considered not bad inthe counter-intelligence department."
Harry repeated the wail.
"We were afraid from the time George Fisher turned himself over to thegovernment," she continued, "that his days were numbered. But the longerhe remained alive the more apprehensive his people would become. Wefigured one day they'd make a wrong move. And that would be their bigmistake. Well, their move was to kill George Fisher and try to get oneof their own agents into Weapons Development. That meant exposingthemselves. It also meant you had to be watched ... among others. That'swhere I came in."
"And playing it about as dumb as I've ever seen."
She laughed. "Sounds like I played the part a little too convincingly."
She stood up and helped him to his feet. "You're coming with me."
"Where to? Hey, what are you doing?"
"There's something about this place that I don't like. I'm no sultrybrunette, but I'm not a dumb blonde either." She kissed him, then took alast look at Paula's place and led him out the door.
THE END
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _Amazing Stories_ November 1959. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.
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