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TWELVE _times_ ZERO
By Howard Browne
[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from If Worlds of ScienceFiction March 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence thatthe U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
[Sidenote: _It was a love-triangle murder that made today's headlinesbut the answer lay hundreds of thousands of light years away!_]
_Police grilled him mercilessly, while eyes from ahundred worlds looked on._]
Chapter I
They brought him into one of the basement rooms. He moved slowly andwith a kind of painful dignity, as a man moves on his way to the firingsquad. A rumpled shock of black hair pointed up the extreme pallor of agaunt face, empty at the moment of all expression. Harsh light from anoverhead fixture winked back from tiny beads of perspiration dotting thewaxen skin of his forehead.
The three men with him watched him out of faces as expressionless as hisown. They were ordinary men who wore ordinary clothing in an ordinaryway, yet in the way they moved and in the way they stood you knew theywere hard men who were in a hard and largely unpleasant business.
One of them motioned casually toward a straight-backed chair almostexactly in the center of the room. "Sit there, Cordell," he said.
A quiet voice, not especially deep, yet it seemed to bounce off thepainted concrete walls.
Wordless, the young man obeyed. Sitting, he seemed as stiff anduncompromising as before. The man who had spoken made a vague gestureand the overhead light went out, replaced simultaneously by strong raysfrom a spotlight aimed full at the eyes of the seated figure.Involuntarily the young man's head turned aside to avoid the searingbrilliance, but a hand came out of the wall of darkness and jerked itback again.
"Just to remind you," the quiet voice continued conversationally, "I'mDetective Lieutenant Kirk, Homicide Bureau." A pair of hands thrust asecond chair toward the circle of light. Kirk swung it around anddropped onto the seat, resting his arms along the back, facing the manacross a distance of hardly more than inches.
In the pitiless glare of the spotlight Cordell's cheekbones stood outsharply, and under his deepset eyes were dark smudges of exhaustion. Hisrigid posture, his blank expression, his silence--these seemed not somuch indications of defiance as they did the result of some terrible anddeep-seated shock.
"Let's go over it again, Cordell," Kirk said.
The young man swallowed audibly against the silence. One of his handstwitched, came up almost to his face as though to shield his eyes, thendropped limply back, "That light--" he mumbled.
"--stays on," Kirk said briskly. "The quicker you tell us the answers,the quicker we all relax. Okay?"
Cordell shook his head numbly, not so much in negation as an effort toclear the fog from his tortured mind. "I told you," he cried hoarsely."What more do you want? Yesterday I told you the whole thing." His voicebegan to border on hysteria. "What good's my trying to tell you if youwon't listen? How's a guy supposed--"
"Then try telling it straight!" Kirk snapped. "You think you're foolingaround with half-wits? Sure; you told us. A crazy pack of goof-balldreams about a blonde babe clubbing two grown people to death, thendisappearing in a ball of blue light! You figure on copping a plea oninsanity?"
"It's the truth!" Cordell shouted. "As God hears me, it's true!"Suddenly he buried his face in his hands and long tearing sobs shook hisslender frame.
* * * * *
One of the other men reached out as though to drag the young man's faceback into the withering rays of the spotlight, but Kirk motioned himaway. Without haste the Lieutenant fished a cigar from the breast pocketof his coat and began almost leisurely to strip away its cellophanewrapper. A kitchen match burst into flame under the flick of a thumbnail and a cloud of blue tobacco smoke writhed into the cone of hotlight.
"Cordell," Kirk said mildly.
Slowly the young man's shoulders stopped their shaking, and after a longmoment his wan, tear-stained face came back into the light. "I--I'msorry," he mumbled.
Kirk waved away the layer of smoke hanging between them. He saidwearily, "Let's try it once more. Step by step. Maybe this time...." Helet the sentence trail off, but the inference was clear.
An expression of hopeless resignation settled over Cordell's features."Where do you want me to start?"
"Take it from five o'clock the afternoon it happened."
The tortured man wet his lips. "Five o'clock was when my shift went offat the plant. The plant, in case you've forgotten, is the Ames ChemicalCompany, and I'm a foreman in the Dry Packaging department."
"Save your sarcasm," Kirk said equably.
"Yeah. I changed clothes and punched out around five-fifteen. Juanitahad called me about four and said to pick her up at Professor Gilmore'slaboratory."
"At what time?"
"No special time. Just when I could get out there. We were going tohave dinner and take in a movie. No particular picture; she said we'dpick one out of the paper at dinner."
"Go on."
"Well, it must've been about quarter to six when I got out to theUniversity. I parked in front of the laboratory wing and went in at themain entrance. I walked down the corridor to the Professor's office. Histypist was knocking out some letters and there were a couple of studentshanging around waiting for him to show up. How about a smoke,Lieutenant?"
Kirk nodded to one of the men behind him and a package of cigarettes wasextended to the man under the light. A match was proffered and the youngman ignited the white tube, his hands shaking badly.
The Lieutenant crossed his legs the other way, "Let's hear the rest ofit, friend."
"What for?" Bitterness tinged Cordell's voice. "You don't believe a wordI'm saying."
"Up to now I do."
"Well, I said something or other to Alma--she's the Prof'ssecretary--and went on through the door to the hall that leads to theprivate lab. When I got--"
* * * * *
Kirk held up a hand. "Wait a minute. Your busting right in on theProfessor like that doesn't sound right. Why not wait in the office foryour wife?"
"What for?" Cordell squinted at him in surprise. "He and I get ... gotalong fine. When Juanita first went to work for him he said to drop inat the lab any time, not to wait in the outer office like a freshman orsomething."
"Go ahead."
"Well...." The young man hesitated. "We're back to the part you _don't_believe, Officer. I can't hardly believe it myself; but so help me, it'sgospel. I _saw_ it!"
"I'm waiting."
Cordell said doggedly: "The lab door was open a crack. I heard a woman'svoice in there, and it wasn't my wife's. It was a voice like--likecracked ice. You know: cold and kind of ... well ... brittle and--anddeadly. That's the only way I can describe it.
"Anyway, I sort of hesitated there, outside the door. I didn't want togo bulling in on something that wasn't none of my business ... but onthe other hand I figured my wife was in there, else Alma would've saidso."
"You hear anything besides this collection of ice cubes?"
The young man's jaw hardened. "I'm giving it the way it happened. Youwant the rest, or you want to trade wise cracks?"
One of the men behind Kirk lunged forward, "Why, you cheap punk--"
Kirk stopped him with an arm. "I'll handle this, Miller." To Cordell: "Iasked you a question. Answer it."
"I heard Professor Gilmore. Only a couple words, then two quick flashesof light lit up the frosted glass door panel. That's when I heard thesetwo thumps like when somebody falls down. I shoved open the door fast... and ri
ght then I saw _her_!"
Kirk nodded for no apparent reason and was careful about knocking aquarter inch of ash off his cigar. "Tell me about her."
The young man's hands were shaking again. He sucked at his cigarette andlet the smoke come out with his words: "She was clear over on the otherside of the lab ... standing a good two feet off the floor in the middleof a big blue ball of some kind of--of soft fire. _Blue_ fire that sortof _pulsed_--you know. Anyway, there she was: this hell of agood-looking blonde; looking right smack at me, and there was this funnykind of gun in her hand. She aimed it and I ducked just as this dimflash of light came out of it. Something hit me on the side of the headand I ... well, I guess I blanked out."
_She was standing a good two feet off the floor in themiddle of a glowing bubble that pulsed and wavered around her._]
"Then what?"
"Well, like I said yesterday, I suppose I just naturally came out of it.I'm all spread out on the floor with the damndest headache you ever saw.Over by the window is the Prof and--" he wet his lips--"and Juanita.They're dead, Lieutenant; just kind of all piled up over there ... dead,their heads busted in and the--the--the--"
* * * * *
He sat there, his mouth working but no sound coming out, his eyesstaring straight into the blazing light, the cigarette smouldering,forgotten, between the first two fingers of his left hand.
Almost gently Kirk said: "Let's go back to where you were standingoutside the door. You heard this woman talking. What did she say?"
Cordell looked sightlessly down at his hands. "Nothing that made sense.Sounded, near as I can remember, like: 'Twelve times zero'--then somewords, or more numbers maybe--I'm not sure--then she said, 'Chained to atwo hundred thousand years'--and the Professor said something about hiscolleges having no idea and he'd warn them--and the blonde said, 'Threein the past five months'--and then something about taking in washing--"
The detective named Miller gave a derisive grunt. "Of all the goddamstories! Kirk, you gonna listen to any--"
Kirk silenced him with a gesture. "Go on, Cordell."
The young man slowly lifted the cigarette to his mouth, dragged heavilyon it, then let it fall to the floor. "That's all. That's when thelights started flashing in there and I tried to be a hero."
"Sure you've left nothing out?"
"You've got it all. The truth, like you wanted."
Kirk said patiently, "Give it up, Cordell. You're as sane as the nextguy. Give that story to a jury and they'll figure you're trying to makesaps out of them--and when a jury gets sore at a defendant, he gets thelimit. And in case you didn't know: in this State, the limit for murderis the hot seat!"
The prisoner stared at him woodenly. "You know I didn't kill my wife--orProfessor Gilmore. I had no reason to--no motive. There's _got_ to be amotive."
The police officer rubbed his chin reflectively. "Uh-hunh. Motive. Howlong you married, Cordell?"
"Six years."
"Children?"
"No."
"Ames Chemical pay you a good salary?"
"Enough."
"Enough for two to live on?"
"Sure."
"How long did your wife work for Professor Gilmore?"
"Four years next month."
"What was her job?"
"His assistant."
"Pretty big job for a woman, wasn't it?"
"Juanita held two degrees in nuclear physics."
"You mean this atom bomb stuff?"
"That was part of it."
"Gilmore's a big name in that field, I understand," Kirk said.
"Maybe the biggest."
"Kind of young to rate that high, wouldn't you say? He couldn't havebeen much past forty."
Cordell shrugged. "He was thirty-eight--and a genius. Genius has nothingto do with age, I hear."
"Not married, I understand."
"That's right." A slow frown was forming on Cordell's face.
"How old was your wife?" Kirk asked.
The frown deepened but the young man answered promptly enough. "Juanitawas my age. Twenty-nine."
Martin Kirk eyed his cigar casually. "Why," he said, "did you want herto walk out on her job; to give up her career?"
Cordell stiffened. "Who says I did?" he snapped.
"Are you denying it?"
"You're damn well right I'm denying it! What _is_ this?"
* * * * *
Kirk was slowly shaking his head almost pityingly. "On at least twooccasions friends of you and your wife have heard you say you wishedshe'd stay home where she belonged and cut out this 'playing around witha mess of test tubes.' Those are your own words, Cordell."
"Every guy," the young man retorted, "who's got a working wife sayssomething like that now and then. It's only natural."
Kirk's jaw hardened. "But every guy's wife doesn't get murdered."
The other looked at him unbelievingly. "Good God," he burst out, "areyou saying I killed Juanita because I wanted her to stop working? Of allthe--"
"There's, more!" snapped the Homicide man. "When you passed ProfessorGilmore's secretary in his outer office yesterday, what did you say toher?"
"'Say to her?'" the prisoner echoed in a dazed way. "I don't know that I... Some kidding remark, I guess. How do you expect me to remember athing like that?"
"I'll tell you what you said," Kirk said coldly. "It goes like this:'Hi, Alma. You think the Prof's through making love to my wife?'"
Cordell's head snapped back and his jaw dropped in utter amazement."_What!_ Of all--! You _nuts_? I never said anything like that in my_life_! Who says I said that?"
Without haste Kirk slid a hand into the inner pocket of his coat andbrought out two folded sheets of paper which he opened and spread out onhis knee.
"Listen to this, friend," he said softly. "'My name is Miss Alma Dakin.I reside at 1142 Monroe Street, and am employed as secretary toProfessor Gregory Gilmore. At approximately 5:50 on the afternoon ofOctober 19, Paul Cordell, husband of Mrs. Juanita Cordell, laboratoryassistant to Professor Gilmore, passed my desk on his way into thelaboratory. I made no effort to stop him, since my employer hadpreviously instructed me to allow Mr. Cordell to go directly to thelaboratory at any time without being announced.'" Kirk looked up at theman in the chair opposite him. "Okay so far?"
Paul Cordell nodded numbly.
"'At the time stated above,'" Kirk, continued, reading from the paper,"'Mr. Cordell stopped briefly in front of my desk. He seemed very angryabout something. He said, "Hi, Alma. You think the Prof's through makinglove to my wife?" Before I could say anything, he turned away and walkedinto the corridor leading to the laboratory. I continued my work untilabout five minutes later when Mr. Cordell came running back into theoffice and told me to call the police, that Professor Gilmore and Mrs.Cordell had been murdered.
"'Since there is an automatic closer on the corridor door, I did not seeMr. Cordell enter the laboratory itself. I do know, however, thatProfessor Gilmore and Mrs. Cordell were alone in the laboratory lessthan ten minutes before Mr. Cordell arrived, as I had just left themalone there after taking some dictation from my employer. Since I wentdirectly to my desk, and since there is no entrance to the laboratoryother than through my office, I can state with certainty that Mr.Cordell was the only person to enter the laboratory between 5:00 thatafternoon and 5:55 when Mr. Cordell came out of the laboratory and toldme of the murders.
"'I hereby depose that this is a true and honest statement, to the bestof my knowledge, that it was given freely on my part, and that I haveread it before affixing my signature to its pages. Signed: Alma K.Dakin.'"
* * * * *
There was an almost ominous crackle to the document as Lieutenant Kirkfolded it and returned it to his pocket. Paul Cordell appeared utterlystunned by what he had heard and his once stiffly squared shoulders wereslumped like those of an old man.
"I don't have to tell you," Kirk said, "that the only win
dow in thatlaboratory is both permanently sealed and heavily barred. No one but youcould have murdered those two people. You say you saw them killed bysome kind of a gun. Yet a qualified physician states both deaths werecaused by a terrific blow from a blunt instrument. We found a lot ofthings around the lab you could have used to do the job--but nothing atall of anything like a projectile fired from a gun."
The prisoner obviously wasn't listening. "B--but she--she lied!" hestammered wildly, "All I said to Alma Dakin was a couple of words--threeor four at the most--about not working too hard. Why should she put meon a spot like that? I just--don't--get--it! Why should she go out ofher way to make trouble...." Dawning suspicion replaced hisbewilderment, "I get it! You cops put her up to this; that's it! Youneed a fall guy and I'm elec--"
"Listen to me, Cordell," Kirk cut in impatiently. "You knew, or thoughtyou knew, your wife was having an affair with Professor Gilmore. Youtried to break it up, to get her to leave her job. She wasn't having anyof that; and the more she refused, the sorer you got. Yesterday youwalked in on them unannounced, found them in each other's arms, andknocked them both off in a jealous rage. When you cooled down enough tosee what you'd done, you invented this wild yarn about a blonde in aball of fire, hoping to get off on an insanity plea."
"I want a lawyer!" Cordell shouted.
Kirk ignored the demand. "You're going back to your cell for a couplehours, buster. Think this over. When you're ready to tell it right, Iwant it in the form of a witnessed statement, on paper. If you do that,if you co-operate with the authorities, you can probably get off with afairly light sentence, maybe even an outright acquittal, on the old'unwritten law' plea. I don't make any promises. Gilmore was a prominentman and a valuable one; that might influence a jury against you. Butit's the only chance you've got--and I'm telling you, by God, to takeit!"
Cordell was standing now, his face working. "Sure; I get it! All you'reafter is a confession. What do you care if it's a flock of lies? My wifewouldn't even _look_ at another man, and not you or anybody else isgoing to make me say different. That blonde killed them, I tell you--andI'll tell a jury the same thing! They'll believe me; they're not a bunchof lousy framing cops! You'll find out who's--"
Lieutenant Martin Kirk wearily ground out his cigar against the chairrung. "All right, boys. Take him back upstairs."