"Here are your instructions," Kayle was saying. "Open the vault door.
Come out--stripped--and go to the center of the parking lot. Stand
there with your hands over your head. A single helicopter manned by a
volunteer will approach and drop a gas canister. It won't be lethal, I
promise you that. Once you're unconscious, I'll personally see to it
that you're transported to the Institute in safety. Every effort will
then be made to overcome the Gool conditioning. If we're successful,
you'll be awakened. If not...."
He let the sentence hang. It didn't need to be finished. I understood
what he meant.
I was listening. I was still not too worried. Here I was safe against
anything until the food ran out--and that wouldn't be for months.
"You're bluffing, Kayle," I said. "You're trying to put the best face
on something that you can't control. If you'd--"
"You were careless at Delta Labs, Granthan. There were too many people
with odd blanks in their memories and too many unusual occurrences,
all on the same day. You tipped your hand. Once we knew what we were
up against, it was simply a matter of following you at an adequate
distance. We have certain shielding materials, as you know. We tried
them all. There's a new one that's quite effective.
"But as I was saying, we've kept you under constant surveillance. When
we saw which way you were heading, we just stayed out of sight and let
you trap yourself."
"You're lying. Why would you want me here?"
"That's very simple," Kayle said harshly. "It's the finest trap ever
built by man--and you're safely in it."
"Safely is right. I have everything I need here. And that brings me to
my reason for being here--in case you're curious. I'm going to build
a matter transmitter. And to prove my good faith, I'll transmit the
Master Tape to you. I'll show you that I could have stolen the damned
thing if I'd wanted to."
"Indeed? Tell me, Granthan, do you really think we'd be fools enough to
leave the Master Tape behind when we evacuated the area?"
"I don't know about that--but it's here."
"Sorry," Kayle said. "You're deluding yourself." His voice was suddenly
softer, some of the triumph gone from it. "Don't bother struggling,
Granthan. The finest brains in the country have combined to place you
where you are. You haven't a chance, except to do as I say. Make it
easy on yourself. I have no wish to extend your ordeal."
"You can't touch me, Kayle. This vault is proof against a hell-bomb,
and it's stocked for a siege...."
"That's right," Kayle said. His voice sounded tired. "It's proof
against a hell-bomb. But what if the hell-bomb's in the vault with
you?"
* * * * *
I felt like a demolition man, working to defuse a block-buster, who's
suddenly heard a loud click! from the detonator. I dropped the phone,
stared around the room. I saw nothing that could be a bomb. I ran to
the next room, the one beyond. Nothing. I went back to the phone,
grabbed it up.
"You ought to know better than to bluff now, Kayle!" I yelled. "I
wouldn't leave this spot now for half a dozen hypothetical hell-bombs!"
"In the center room," Kayle said. "Lift the cover over the floor drain.
You'll find it there. You know what they look like. Don't tamper with
its mechanism; it's internally trapped. You'll have to take my word for
it we didn't bother installing a dummy."
I dropped the phone, hurried to the spot Kayle had described. The bomb
casing was there--a dull gray ovoid, with a lifting eye set in the top.
It didn't look dangerous. It just lay quietly, waiting....
Back at the telephone, I had trouble finding my voice. "How long?" I
croaked.
"It was triggered when you entered the vault," Kayle said. "There's a
time mechanism. It's irreversible; you can't force anyone to cancel it.
And it's no use your hiding in the outer passages.
"The whole center will be destroyed in the blast. Even it can't stand
against a bomb buried in its heart. But we'll gladly sacrifice the
center to eliminate you."
"How long!"
"I suggest you come out quickly, so that a crew can enter the vault to
disarm the bomb."
"_How long!_"
"When you're ready to emerge, call me." The line went dead.
I put the phone back in its cradle carefully, like a rare and valuable
egg.
I tried to think. I'd been charging full speed ahead ever since I
had decided on my scheme of action while I was still riding the surf
off the Florida coast, and I'd stuck to it. Now it had hatched in my
face--and the thing that had crawled out wasn't the downy little chick
of success. It had teeth and claws and was eyeing me like a basilisk....
But I still had unplayed aces--if there was time.
I had meant to use the matter transmitter to stage a dramatic proof
that I wasn't the tool of the enemy. The demonstration would be more
dramatic than I'd planned. The bomb would fit the machine as easily as
the tape. The wheels would be surprised when their firecracker went
off--right on schedule--in the middle of the Mojave Desert.
I set to work, my heart pounding. If I could bring this off--if I had
time--if the transmitter worked as advertised....
The stolen knowledge flowed smoothly, effortlessly. It was as though
I had been assembling matter transmitters for years, knew every step
by heart. First the moebius windings; yard after yard of heavy copper
around a core of carbon; then the power supply, the first and second
stage amplimitters....
How long? In the sump in the next room, the bomb lay quietly ticking.
How long...?
* * * * *
The main assembly was ready now. I laid out cables, tying my apparatus
in to the atomic power-source buried under the vault. The demand,
for one short instant, would tax even those mighty engines. I fixed
hooks at the proper points in the room, wove soft aluminum wire in the
correct pattern. I was almost finished now. How long? I made the last
connections, cleared away the litter. The matter transmitter stood on
the table, complete. At any instant, the bomb would reduce it--and the
secret of its construction--to incandescent gas--unless I transmitted
the bomb out of range first. I turned toward the laundry room--and the
telephone rang.