Four Unpublished Novels Read online

  “Put up or shut up,” said Gerard. “Unless you can prove your charges, I’m backing Dan all the way.”

  Movius took a deep breath.

  Addington glared at Gerard. “I have two witnesses.”

  “No good.” Gerard shook his head. “Your friends know too much about lying. This has to be tied down with fingerprints, full laboratory evidence.”

  “I saw him myself!” raged Addington.

  “You’re an even bigger liar,” said Gerard.

  Addington’s face went purple. “I suppose Movius has been put through ocamine so he can take a lie-detector test without a quiver?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” said Gerard. “LD evidence won’t hold with me, anyway.” Gerard was obviously enjoying himself.

  Addington leaned forward, face flushed. “You know this man is guilty! You’re just aiding him to spite me! I’m warning you.…”

  A buzzing sounded from beneath the desk, interrupting him. Gerard answered his phone, passed it across to Addington. “It’s for you, owl guts.”

  Addington snatched the phone, said, “Yes, this is Addington.” He listened, smiled. “You have? Well, hold her there.” He passed the phone back to Gerard, still smiling, turned to Movius. “We have your bride. You’re coming with us now or else.”

  Movius felt himself go almost blank. It was as though he watched another man rise slowly from his chair, take two steps toward Addington. The aide moved to cut him off.

  “Movius!” It was Gerard’s voice.

  The sharp tone of command restored some of Movius’ control. I got Grace into this, he thought. I can’t let them harm her. What can I do?

  “Well?” asked Addington.

  Movius fought to control his thoughts. How can I fight them? A desperate gamble flashed through his mind. He turned, walked around behind Gerard’s desk. From an inner pocket he withdrew his stylus, unscrewed the back cap, exposing the sharp edge of the re-load. Grasping Gerard’s hand, he made a short scratch on the back.

  “Ouch!” Gerard put the hand to his mouth, darted his other hand toward a pocket.

  Movius shook his head, put the stylus to his mouth, blew on it. Quietly, he capped the stylus, waited while he counted silently to fifteen. Addington and his aides were staring at him puzzled.

  “I have just released a quantity of high-dispersion poison gas in this room sufficient to kill five hundred people,” said Movius. “Mr. Gerard and myself are immunized. In thirty minutes you three will die in agony, every muscle of your bodies tearing violently.” He put the stylus back in his inside pocket.

  Addington jumped to his feet, leaned across the desk, bellowed at Gerard, “Stop this madman!”

  Gerard leaned back. “Why should I? I won’t be harmed.”

  One of Gerard’s hands remained beneath the desk. “And if you make a move to come around this desk, you’ll die much more quickly.”

  “You have thirty minutes in which to bring my wife up here unharmed,” said Movius. “In fact, if the antidote is to have the time to work, you have less than that. About fifteen minutes is all.”

  Gerard pushed the telephone across the desk. “I’d make the call if I were you.”

  “He’s bluffing,” said Addington in a faint voice.

  “I wouldn’t count on that,” said Gerard.

  “I have heard of such a gas,” said Addington slowly.

  “Bu-Trans has many resources,” said Gerard.

  “So that’s the way it is?” said Addington. Face pale, he took up the phone. “Get me Pearsons at Bu-Con.” He waited. “Ev, bring the Movius woman over to Bu-Trans right away. Don’t ask questions; just bring her! Come right on up to bulb-head’s office with her.” He slammed the phone onto the desk, sat down.

  Gerard quietly replaced the phone on its hook.

  “The first thing you notice is your heart beating more rapidly and much stronger,” said Movius. “You become very aware of your heartbeat.”

  The aide who had carried the briefcase suddenly paled, swayed, sat down in a hard-backed chair against the wall. He began to draw in deep breaths.

  “Some people don’t have as high a tolerance as others,” said Movius. He noticed that both Addington and the other aide were forcing in deep breaths. The seated aide suddenly pitched forward to the floor with a loud thump.

  Movius smiled. A little applied psychology plus a weak will equals a fainting spell, he thought. Now they’re convinced.

  Addington jumped to his feet. “Give me that antidote! I’m a sick man! I can already feel my heart pounding!”

  “When my wife gets here,” said Movius. “Not before.”

  “Sit down,” said Gerard. “Exertion only makes the poison work faster.”

  Addington slumped back into his chair, fumbled in a pocket, brought out a white pill which he put onto his tongue with a shaking hand. He flopped the pill into his mouth, gulped it. “You’re going to answer for this,” he said. He looked toward the door. “I should have told him to hurry.” He glanced at his wristwatch.

  A knock sounded on the door. “Come in,” said Gerard.

  The gladiator for the outer office appeared in the doorway, his bulk obscuring the view of whoever was behind him.

  “Everybody come in,” said Gerard.

  Gladiator stepped into the room, followed by Grace and a chunky, vapid-faced man with sadistic eyes. Grace—wrapped in a blanket, hair disheveled—had a short scratch on one cheek. Her eyes blazed fury. She shook herself free of vapid-face’s detaining hand, suddenly saw Movius. “Dan!”

  “Everything’s all right, dear,” said Movius. He went around the desk, put an arm around her shoulders. “Did they harm you?”

  She shook her head. “They were searching me.” She turned. “That creature and another one.”

  Vapid-face licked his lips. “Nice,” he said, leering at Movius.

  “You have your wife,” said Addington. “Give us the antidote.”

  “You’re all breathing a poison gas for which Mr. Movius has the only antidote,” said Gerard, looking at vapid-face.

  “Well?” said Addington.

  “First put all your weapons on Mr. Gerard’s desk,” said Movius.

  “See here!” said Addington.

  “Do as he says!” barked Gerard, voice harsh.

  Movius took out his stylus, made a minute scratch on the back of Grace’s hand, did the same for the gladiator.

  “On the desk,” said Movius. He capped the stylus, put it away, began patting Addington’s pockets, stooped to feel along his legs. The Bu-Con chief wore one tiny fap gun strapped to an ankle and two others in pocket holsters. His gunman aide also had one on the ankle and two in the pockets. The clerk had one in a lapel holster. Vapid-face wore a poison dart stutter gun hanging from a shoulder strap inside his suit. A crease concealed the slit by which it could be brought out quickly.

  Gerard’s eyes widened when he saw the weapon. “That’s outlawed,” he said.

  “So it’s outlawed,” said Addington peevishly. “So’s poison gas.”

  Movius put the weapons on the desk. Gerard swept them all into a drawer.

  Movius bent over the unconscious clerk on the floor, made a deep slash in the back of the man’s hand with the sharp tip of the stylus. The clerk moaned, began to stir. Movius went to the gunman. Addington stepped forward. “I have to have that immediately!”

  “After him,” said Movius.

  Addington quivered, his eyes glittering behind the thick glasses.

  Movius made a deep slash in the aide’s hand, grabbed Addington’s hand, made an even deeper slash. Vapid-face stepped forward, held out his hand. Movius ignored him, capped the stylus and put it back in his pocket.

  “What about me?” the man asked.

  Movius turned to Grace. “Are you sure they didn’t harm you?”

  She blushed, broke off, and began to cry silently, bringing her hands from beneath the blanket to cover her face.

  “What about me?” vapid-face repeated. />
  Movius’ face hardened. “You don’t get it.”

  Addington whirled on Gerard. “You can’t let him just …”

  “Dan is one of my most trusted aides,” said Gerard. “I give him a free hand in these matters. If he doesn’t think Ev should live, then I go by his judgment. Personally, I’m inclined to agree with him in this instance.”

  Vapid-face pushed through the group, leaned against Gerard’s desk, face contorted. “You can’t do this to me!”

  “You’re mistaken,” said Gerard coldly. “We’re doing it.”

  The man sank to his knees, clutching the edge of the desk. “Please! Look! I’m begging you!”

  Movius suddenly felt sickened.

  “Give it to him,” said Grace.

  The man turned his contorted face toward her. “Thank you.”

  Movius brought out the stylus, uncapped it, bent and slashed the kneeling man across the cheek. “I want to recognize you next time! If you so much as look cross-eyed at my wife ever again I’ll get you and you can beg until your voice runs dry!”

  Vapid-face stood up, hand against his bleeding cheek.

  The clerk on the floor again stirred, lifting his head. He got to his feet, looked around vacantly.

  Movius said, “All right, get out of here!”

  The gladiator opened the door, stood aside.

  Addington turned a measuring stare on Movius. “I’m going to remember your face … personally!”

  Gerard leaned forward, his bald head glistening as brightly as the desk top. “Let’s understand something. If anything is done to Dan or his wife because of what happened here, I will consider it was done to me.” His eyes slitted. “If you want open war, owl guts, you’ll get it.”

  Without a word, Addington turned, went out, trailed by his three aides. Gerard’s receptionist closed the door.

  Movius went to Grace, helped her into a chair, pulled the blanket around her knees. “We’ll send out for some clothes.”

  “I’ll get them from our supplies,” said Gerard. He picked up the phone, gave terse orders, replaced the phone. Turning to Movius, he said, “I want you to give the lab the formula for that poison gas and antidote. They could come in handy. And while you’re at it, you could tell me where you got them.”

  Movius took out his stylus, tossed it onto the desk. “What poison gas? That’s a standard stylus.”

  Gerard picked it up, examined it.

  “I once got a nasty scratch from the sharp end of a re-load,” said Movius. “I remembered it and the fact that I’d heard a story about a poison gas. Come to think about it, I read about the gas in one of Navvy’s pop-mags. It was fiction.”

  Gerard looked at the scratch on his hand.

  “Sorry about that,” said Movius. “That was the convincer.”

  Suddenly, Gerard jerked back in his chair, began to laugh. The bellowing of it filled the office. “Ohhhhh,” he said. “Ohhhhh, the look on Addington’s face! Ohhhhh. And the way you made him wait until the last!” It was a full minute before Gerard could control himself. He took out a handkerchief, dabbed at his eyes. “Movius, I would have let you cut half through my hand for that show.” He replaced the handkerchief, sat forward.

  Grace was looking from one to the other, puzzled. “What …”

  Movius shook his head.

  “Movius, I’ve been looking for a man like you for a long time. I saw the sorter card and could see from it that you were good. But that was as resourceful a bit of quick thinking as I’ve ever seen.” Again he chuckled. “I have a little job …”

  A knock sounded on the door.

  “Yes?”

  Gladiator appeared with a bundle. Gerard stood up, went around the desk and took the bundle. The receptionist closed the door. Gerard opened another door in the side wall, revealing a small room with a leather couch. “You can dress in here, Mrs. Movius.”

  Grace stood up, pulling the blanket around herself. “Thank you.” She went into the room.

  Gerard tossed the package onto the couch, closed the door, returned to his desk, sat down. He took out a handkerchief, patted at the perspiration on his bald head. “You’ve got good taste, Movius.” He put away the handkerchief. “She’s no raving beauty, but she has good looks and personality, the kind that wear well as a wife.” Gerard glanced down to Movius’ stylus on the desk. “Oh, yes—the job.”

  Movius hitched his chair closer to the desk.

  “Just a minute,” said Gerard. He took the phone, said, “Get me the Sorter cards on Daniel Movius. Bailey has them downstairs.” Presently, something went Pop! under the desk. Gerard reached down, brought up the pneumo-tube cartridge, opened it, pulled out the cards.

  “That could be dangerous,” said Movius.

  Gerard looked up from the cards. “What?”

  “How do you know what’s coming up in that tube?”

  Gerard pulled back from his desk, looked under it. “Great Gallup! I never thought of that! It could just as easily be a charge of nitrox!” He moved his chair around beside the desk, went on reading the cards. Presently, he looked up, put the cards on his desk, his expression thoughtful. He ran a hand over his bald head, looked at Movius.

  “I was just refreshing my memory. The records show that you ran one of the most efficient departments of the government. Also, you have an extremely high loyalty index.” He looked at the cards. “Extremely high.”

  That was the old Daniel Movius, he thought. Now we get the bid for that loyalty.

  “I’ve just saved your life,” said Gerard. “Do you know that?”

  Movius nodded. “And I may have saved yours.” He looked across the desk toward the hidden tube.

  Gerard wet his lips with his tongue. “Exactly. I wasn’t joking when I said I’ve been looking for someone like you. I need a man I can trust like my right arm.”

  “Tell me what to do,” said Movius.

  Gerard sat back. “In a bureau such as this you sometimes get someone who is overly ambitious.” His expression hardened. “Owl Guts Addington and The Coor are behind the man who heads one of my sections. They hope to put that man in my seat.” He mopped nervously at his bald head. “There have been two attempts on my life.”

  “And you want a bodyguard?” asked Movius.

  “No, much more than that. You were certified to department CR-14 by the Sorter. I want you to go down there and hang a frame around the neck of the department director. I know you’re the man for the job.”

  Why all the praise? wondered Movius. He decided to apply London’s methods, get at what the other man wanted. “What’s so dangerous about the job?”

  “Mmmmm,” said Gerard. “You are sharp.” He slapped a hand onto the desk. “All right, here’s the proposition. You’re filling a vacancy in the department caused by the death of the last man I sent down there. He fell down a light well.”

  Movius nodded, pointed toward Gerard’s desk drawer. “Let me have that lapel gun.”

  Gerard leaned back, opened the drawer, handed gun and holster to Movius.

  “What is CR-14?” asked Movius.

  “Confidential routing,” said Gerard.

  We’re playing it cagey, thought Movius. He said, “Who’s the department head?”

  “Rafe Newton. He’s a cousin of The Coor.”

  “Nepotism?”

  “It sometimes happens,” said Gerard. “I’d boot him in a minute otherwise.” He leaned back, steepled his hands. “No love lost on The Coor, is there?”

  Movius shook his head.

  “I believe The Coor is heading for a showdown at the time of his major poll this Fall.” Gerard consulted a desk calendar. “That’s October 8, about two weeks away.” He looked up at Movius from beneath his brows. “You were tired of this latest plaything Glass picked up, eh?” Almost to himself he said, “I’ll have to see he finds that out.”

  The door to Gerard’s private room swung open. Grace emerged wearing a standard work suit, a little too large for her. The legs had b
een rolled up.

  Without looking at her Gerard said, “You were listening, weren’t you, my dear?”

  Grace’s voice had a tone of defiance. “Why not?”

  Gerard turned his bald head slowly until he was facing her. “No reason. A wife should take an interest in what’s happening to her husband.” He reached into the desk drawer, withdrew one of the ankle guns, slipped gun and handful of recharges from the holster. Coming around the desk, he displayed the little weapon to Grace. “You slip the re-charge in like this. Then press this to break the seal and put the first pellet in the chamber. This is the safety. When it shows red the gun is ready to fire.” He handed it to Grace, turned toward the open door of his private room. “Put a pellet into the couch there to get the feel of it. I want you to have this gun in case they try to pick you up again.”

  Grace lifted the little weapon, squeezed off a single shot. It went fap SPLAT! into the leather couch. She thumbed on the safety, put the gun in her pocket.

  Gerard leaned back on his desk. “You’ve fired one of those before.” Suddenly, he bent forward from the hips. “Where?”

  Grace looked to Movius, eyes frightened.

  “I said where does an LP female learn to shoot a fap gun?” Gerard demanded.

  “I showed her,” said Movius.

  Gerard continued to stare at Grace. “Where did you get the gun, Movius?”

  Here it is, thought Movius. He said, “Off Pescado.”

  Gerard whirled toward him.

  “He was one of The Coor’s bully boys,” said Movius. “He jumped me the same night I was low-opped. He and two others.”

  “You were running away from that ALP wrong rap?”

  Movius shrugged. “What else could I do?”

  “And they had six weeks to find you and couldn’t? Where’d you hide?” His voice bit off the questions as though he was shooting them from a gun.

  Movius nodded toward Grace. “My wife hid me.”

  Gerard moved slowly away from the desk, turned to look at Movius. “I understand that will have to do for now.”

  Movius got to his feet.