James H. Schmitz Agents of Vega

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Barney hesitated, aware that Fredericks had remained in the hall just beyond
the study. But Fredericks obviously was in McAllen's confidence. His
eavesdropping could do no harm.
"It means this, doctor " Barney began, amiably enough; and he proceeded to
tell McAllen precisely what the photographs meant. McAllen broke in
protestingly two or three times, then let Barney conclude his account of the
steps he had taken to verify his farfetched hunch on the pier without further
comment. After a few minutes Barney heard Fredericks' steps moving away, and
then a door closing softly somewhere, and he shifted his position a trifle
so that his right side was now toward the hall door. The little revolver was
in the right-hand coat pocket. Even then
Barney had no real concern that McAllen or Fredericks would attempt to resort
to violence; but when people are acutely disturbed and McAllen at least
was almost anything can happen.
When Barney finished, McAllen stared down at the photographs again, shook his
head, and looked over at Barney.
"If you don't mind," he said, blinking behind his glasses, "I should like to
think about this for a minute or two."
"Of course, doctor," Barney said politely. McAllen settled back in the chair,
removed his glasses and half closed his eyes. Barney let his gaze rove. The
furnishings of the house were what he had expected well-tended, old, declining
here and there to the downright shabby. The only reasonably new piece in the
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study was a radio-phonograph. The walls of the study and of the section of a
living room he could see through a small archway were lined with crammed
bookshelves. At the far end of the living room was a curious collection of
clocks in various types and sizes, mainly antiques, but also some odd metallic
pieces with modernistic faces. Vacancies in the rows indicated
Fredericks might have begun to dispose discreetly of the more valuable items
on his employer's behalf.
McAllen cleared his throat finally, opened his eyes, and settled the
spectacles back on his nose.
"Mr. Chard," he inquired, "have you had scientific training?"
"No."
"Then," said McAllen, "the question remains of what your interest in the
matter is. Perhaps you'd like to explain just why you put yourself to such
considerable expense to intrude on my personal affairs "
Barney hesitated perceptibly. "Doctor," he said, "there is something
tantalizing about an enigma. I'm fortunate in having the financial means to
gratify my curiosity when it's excited to the extent it was here."
McAllen nodded. "I can understand curiosity. Was that your only motive?"
Barney gave him his most disarming grin. "Frankly no. I've mentioned I'm a
businessman "
"Ah!" McAllen said, frowning.
"Don't misunderstand me. One of my first thoughts admittedly was that here
were millions waiting to be picked up.
But the investigation soon made a number of things clear to me."
"What were they?"
"Essentially, that you had so sound a reason for keeping your invention a
secret that to do it you were willing to ruin yourself financially, and to
efface yourself as a human being and as a scientist."
"I don't feel," McAllen observed mildly, "that I really have effaced myself,
either as a human being or as a scientist."
"No, but as far as the public was concerned you did both."
McAllen smiled briefly. "That stratagem was very effective until now. Very
well, Mr. Chard. You understand clearly that under no circumstances would I
agree to the commercialization of . . . well, of my matter transmitter?"
Barney nodded. "Of course."
"And you're still interested?"
"Very much so."
McAllen was silent a few seconds, biting reflectively at his lower lip. "Very
well," he said again. "You were speaking of my predilection for fishing.
Perhaps you'd care to accompany me on a brief fishing trip?"
"Now?" Barney asked.
"Yes, now. I believe you understand what I mean . . . I see you do. Then, if
you'll excuse me for a few minutes "
* * *
Barney couldn't have said exactly what he expected to be shown. His imaginings
had run in the direction of a camouflaged vault beneath McAllen's house some
massively-walled place with machinery that powered the matter transmitter
purring along the walls . . . and perhaps something in the style of a plastic
diving bell as the specific instrument of transportation.
The actual experience was quite different. McAllen returned shortly, having
changed into the familiar outdoor clothing apparently he had been literal
about going on a fishing trip. Barney accompanied the old physicist into the
living room, and watched him open a small but very sturdy wall safe.
Immediately behind the safe door, an instrument panel had been built in the
opening.
Peering over the spectacles, McAllen made careful adjustments on two sets of
small dials, and closed and locked the safe again.
"Now, if you'll follow me, Mr. Chard " He crossed the room to a door, opened
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it, and went out. Barney followed him into a small room with rustic
furnishings and painted wooden walls. There was a single, heavily curtained
window; the room was rather dim.
"Well," McAllen announced, "here we are."
It took a moment for that to sink in. Then, his scalp prickling eerily, Barney
realized he was standing farther from the wall than he had thought. He looked
around, and discovered there was no door behind him now, either open or
closed.
He managed a shaky grin. "So that's how your matter transmitter works!"
"Well," McAllen said thoughtfully, "of course it isn't really a matter
transmitter. I call it the McAllen Tube. Even an educated layman must realize
that one can't simply disassemble a living body at one point, reassemble it at
another, and expect life to resume. And there are other considerations "
"Where are we?" Barney asked "On Mallorca?"
"No. We haven't left the continent just the state. Look out the window and see
for yourself."
McAllen turned to a built-in closet, and Barney drew back the window hangings.
Outside was a grassy slope, uncut and yellowed by the summer sun. The slope
dropped sharply to a quiet lakefront framed by dark pines. There was no one in
sight, but a small wooden dock ran out into the lake. At the far end of the
dock an old rowboat lay tethered.
And quite obviously it was no longer the middle of a bright afternoon, the air
was beginning to dim, to shift towards evening.
Barney turned to find McAllen's mild, speculative eyes on him, and saw the old
man had put a tackle box and fishing rod on the table.
"Your disclosures disturbed me more than you may have realized," McAllen
remarked by way of explanation. His lips twitched in the shadow of a smile. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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