"So it leaves me right where I started, doesn't it? And yet I know this:
it was no _emotional_ killing. It was all coldly planned. The killer was
someone Carmack trusted enough to have in his home; they were probably
having a quiet little chat together. And then precisely--on a
predetermined minute--the killer rose from his chair and struck."
Mandleco lifted his heavy hands and then, as if conscious of them, let
them fall limply across the desk. "But--come now, Beardsley! Psychologic
deduction is all very well, but how can you possibly know that?"
Beardsley gazed calmly at the Minister of Justice. For a moment he said
nothing. Mandleco seemed more alert than startled, more annoyed than
either.
"That," said Beardsley softly, "I am not prepared to tell you."
Mandleco seemed about to pursue the point, but there came an
interruption. Both men turned abruptly as the stat-screen gave its
warning blip.
"Code C-C-Five!" came the remote voice. "Bermuda to Washington,
Priority. This is Priority. C-C-Five ... your party is ready now, sir!"
* * * * *
It was a pool-side scene, with hotel and tropical palms against an
unbelievable blue sky. Professor Emil Losch loomed on the screen; he was
in swimming trunks, a small gray man who seemed hard as nails, his lean
tanned body belying his years.
"Hello?" Losch peered sharply and then pulled away, almost upsetting an
expensive decanter of liquor on the table beside him. He seemed to
blanch as he recognized the Minister of Justice. "Mandleco!"
The latter raised a hand in greeting. "Don't be alarmed, Professor, this
is not official. Just a social call."
"I want to correct that," Beardsley said bluntly as he thrust himself
into range. "Professor Losch, this _is_ official; furthermore, I wish to
advise you that this stat is monitor-taped for both vis and audio, and
the resulting record is therefore admissible in any Court of Law. Being
so advised, is there any objection on your part to answering a brief
series of questions pertaining to the Carmack Case? I have been duly
authorized by George Mandleco, Minister of Justice," he added for the
record.
Losch glanced bewilderedly from Beardsley to Mandleco, and seemed to
take courage from the latter.
"Objection?" he said. "This is a bit unusual, but ... of course, I have
no objection."
"Very well. I shall make a series of statements, and give you
opportunity to refute them either in part or _in toto_. Professor Losch,
some years ago you were engaged privately, in magnetronic cybernetic
research along similar lines to those later developed by Amos Carmack.
Shortly thereafter you claimed that Carmack had thwarted you,
out-maneuvered you, _out-stolen_ you at every turn; I believe those are
pretty much your own words, as revealed by court records--"
"Correct! I repeat them now!"
"You filed against him, and litigation dragged through the courts for
several years before Carmack finally won out. Shortly thereafter you
disappeared; I believe you took up residence in Europe. About a year ago
you returned, and was hired as Research Consultant in the laboratories
of the Carmack Foundation. This is true?"
* * * * *
For a moment Losch avoided looking at the screen. It was obvious he was
considering his answer carefully.
"It's true," he said.
Beardsley said quickly, "It is my understanding that Mr. Mandleco
interceded with Carmack on your behalf--"
"I protest the last statement!" Losch's words exploded from the screen.
"There was no intercession by anyone!" His head lifted defiantly. "Yes,
I came back. I don't mind admitting I came crawling back. Carmack
offered me the position and I accepted!"
"Quite so. And he offered you a hundred thousand a year, didn't he?
Twice the salary of any other top man?"
"You think that's out of line," Losch bristled, "but he must have
thought I was worth it--I think you know why! He owed me ten times as
much!"
"You must have really hated Carmack," murmured Beardsley.
Mandleco thrust forward angrily, gesturing. "Losch, let me caution you
not to answer that!"
"But I will answer it! Yes, I hated him, but if you think I killed the
man you're wrong. Sure--I wanted to kill him--I thought about it often
enough, but I hadn't the courage." Losch glared at Beardsley from the
screen. "No doubt my Augment Index will bear it out," he said bitterly.
"Neuro-thalamic imbalance isn't it called? Pronounced efforts at
emotional suppression?"
"Close enough," Beardsley nodded, refusing to be enticed from his query.
"And you were in Washington prior to and including the day of the
murder. You admit this?"
"Of course, of course I admit it!" Losch sighed wearily and lifted his
hands. "Why deny the obvious? I'm resigned to the fact that my Index
probably makes me a prize Prime!"
"Professor Losch. As a person closely associated with the Carmack
Laboratories, you must be aware of the--shall we say--elaborate
precautions Carmack took to ensure his privacy?"
Losch sank back slowly, but his eyes couldn't conceal a livening
interest. "I don't know what you mean."
"Then I'll tell you. I refer to the frequency barrier which Carmack
installed within the past year. The 'neuro-vibe' I think he called it.
That strikes a note?"