caution younot to answer that!"
"But I will answer it! Yes, I hated him, but if you think I killed theman you're wrong. Sure--I wanted to kill him--I thought about it oftenenough, but I hadn't the courage." Losch glared at Beardsley from thescreen. "No doubt my Augment Index will bear it out," he said bitterly."Neuro-thalamic imbalance isn't it called? Pronounced efforts atemotional suppression?"
"Close enough," Beardsley nodded, refusing to be enticed from his query."And you were in Washington prior to and including the day of themurder. You admit this?"
"Of course, of course I admit it!" Losch sighed wearily and lifted hishands. "Why deny the obvious? I'm resigned to the fact that my Indexprobably makes me a prize Prime!"
"Professor Losch. As a person closely associated with the CarmackLaboratories, you must be aware of the--shall we say--elaborateprecautions Carmack took to ensure his privacy?"
Losch sank back slowly, but his eyes couldn't conceal a liveninginterest. "I don't know what you mean."
"Then I'll tell you. I refer to the frequency barrier which Carmackinstalled within the past year. The 'neuro-vibe' I think he called it.That strikes a note?"
Losch said sullenly, "Perhaps! What about it?"
"Only this. Assuming the killer was a person Carmack had reason tomistrust--or to fear--he had to solve the neuro-vibe in order to gainaccess. Not many persons could have done that, Losch. But _you_ couldhave done it."
Losch came up out of his chair with a heavy, angry look. "Now see here,you--"
"Which pretty well establishes motive, means and method. You were inWashington the day of the murder! And you left for Bermuda the dayfollowing! Is that substantially correct?"
"_Totally_ correct!" said Losch savagely. "Now may I ask what the hellyou're going to do about it?"
* * * * *
Beardsley observed him for a prolonged second. "Remember it," heanswered softly.
Losch opened his mouth to say more, but Beardsley lifted a palm at thescreen and smiled benignly. "Well, sir, I think that about covers it. Iwant to thank you very much for the record, and--ah--have a nicevacation! Goodbye."
With that he clicked off abruptly.
* * * * *
He turned to face Mandleco, who was struggling between anger anddistress as he paced away from the screen and back. He confrontedBeardsley with a sad and accusing look. "Now see here, Beardsley! If I'dknown your methods were ... don't you think that was all a bithigh-handed?"
"What? No, not in the least. Didn't you notice?"
"Notice what?"
"Losch was an angry man, yes, indeed."
"Angry," snapped Mandleco. "Good reason!"
"No," Beardsley mused. "The _wrong_ reason. Murder--at least the typewe're concerned with--is a form of release, you know. A killer maycommit his deed in anger, but once the thing is accomplished he neverretains that anger long." Beardsley gazed contemplatively at the screen."You know, I admire that man. I really do. He had the convictions atleast, if not the courage."
Mandleco pounced on that. "Then you think Losch is innocent?"
"I didn't say that!" Beardsley paused in a strange hesitation; his eyeshad gone remote beneath the very thick glasses, and his words came slowand isolated. "But he's part of the record. Yes, it should be quite arecord. In fact, I have a feeling--you know?--that this case is going tostand as a _monument_ in the annals of crime...."
Mandleco stared at him, searched for the meaning there and then gave itup. _Why had he ever committed himself to this situation anyway? Didthis little man really know as much as he pretended, or was he merelyfumbling around in the dregs of a forgotten past?_ To be sure, Beardsleywas a pathetic enough figure; but the man had once been great in hisfield, and there was something about him even now....
There was the sudden way Beardsley had of losing his abstracted look,the eyes beneath those ridiculous lenses coming to a sharp bright focuswith tiny livening flecks in the gray of the iris; and the way thechange lifted his features from mediocrity to the alertness of aterrier. It was absurd, it was farcical ... and it was all verydisturbing.
"You told _me_," Mandleco said testily, "that the killer was someoneCarmack trusted enough to have in his home. Then you bludgeon Losch withthe idea it was a person Carmack had reason to fear! It would seem tome, Beardsley--"
"No, no. I think my words to Losch were _assuming_ the killer was such aperson." Beardsley looked up brightly, and even through those lensesMandleco could see the sharp focus.
"Just the same, I fail to see what's to be gained by these outlandishmethods!"
Beardsley seemed genuinely surprised. "But I've gained a great dealalready! And don't forget, Mrs. Carmack and Pederson should be heresoon."
"_That's_ a prospect I look forward to," Mandleco tried to salvage amodicum of humor and failed miserably. He extracted a cigar, clamped histeeth upon it, frowned and glanced at his watch. He strode over andpeered out at the operations room.
Beardsley said innocuously, "I wouldn't count on ECAIAC just yet."
It was Beardsley's first error. He realized it instantly. The remarkseemed to trigger something in Mandleco.
The Minister of Justice turned slowly, rolling the cigar from one cornerof his mouth to the other. "But I may," he said. "You know, I just may!It's barely possible, Beardsley, that with some luck we'll be able todispense with your talents!" He said it with considerable more relishthan conviction, and moved for the door. "I think I'll just see howArnold is making out!"
* * * * *
Arnold was making out very well, much to Mandleco's delight. No longerwas there chaos and confusion. The new feed-back unit had arrived, andinstallation was well under way. Blueprints were spread out as a crew oftechs worked feverishly at all damage areas.
"It looks promising," Arnold hurried up to greet him. "Told you I had agood crew here! Look--see this?" He indicated one of the variant-tapesbeing slowly reversed across the relays.
"What is it?"
"The number eight reject."
"That what caused the trouble?"
"Well ... we think so, but it's problematical. Whether it did or not,we're safe in resuming the run without any shift in the correlationtotal."
Mandleco stared at the number eight. "Throw it out!" he snapped.
"What--what did you say, sir?"
"I said throw it out! Get this thing to functioning!"
Arnold was aghast. "But," he gulped, "we just can't throw out data!Sure, it was about to be a reject--but everything, even rejects, containa factor-balance! You know that, sir."
Mandleco got control of himself with an effort. "Yes--yes, of course. Iknow you're right. But damn it, man, those units cost something likeeighty thousand dollars! Suppose the same breakdown occurs?"
"Not a chance of it this time. We'll merely continue with a stepped-upsynaptic check. Take longer for Cumulative, perhaps, but absolutelyfool-proof once we--"
* * * * *
For a long instant Mandleco stood musing. Then he nodded brusquely. "Allright. How long to get going?"
"Why, we'll be ready in forty minutes at the most. I told you I had agood crew, sir! Excuse me--" One of Arnold's techs was motioning to him."Excuse me," Arnold said again, and hurried away to consult with theman.
"Forty minutes!" Mandleco couldn't believe it. He chortled happily, andswung about to greet Beardsley who approached at that moment. "Hearthat, Beardsley? Forty minutes! Excellent man, Arnold. I'm sorry I everdoubted--"
Beardsley wasn't listening. He stared about at the miracle ofreconstruction, and there was more of amazement on his face thandistress. Adjusting his glasses, he gazed thoughtfully at Jeff Arnold'sretreating figure.
Mandleco was saying, "Just as well your little experiment didn't go anyfurther! Dangerous precedent ... don't know what possessed me ... yourealize that in the last analysis I'll have to put my faith in ECAIAC!No bad feelings?"
"No,
sir," Beardsley pronounced somberly. "No bad feelings, because I'mholding you to your word. ECAIAC hasn't solved your case and it neverwill."
Mandleco stood still, open-mouthed. "What's that? Nonsense! Arnold justassured me--"
"He assured you of nothing! I'm more convinced than ever now. I'm theonly one who can solve this case, and I'm holding you to your word."
Mandleco seemed undecided whether to laugh or censure.