"Then do me a favor--a very special favor."
Her blush deepened, with an overlay of panic. "I'd--like to, Jim.
Because I--like you. But I can't. It's hard to explain, but I've always
told myself that unless I marry a man...."
I leaned against the wall and laughed helplessly while her eyes widened
in amazement. Then I dispensed with the handshaking. She clung to me,
and it might have been her first kiss. In fact, it was.
"I don't just like you, darling," I said. "I love you. And that wasn't
the favor I was going to ask. You said you have an aunt over in Newark.
I want you to stay with her for a while--for a week or so."
"But--why?"
"Will you trust me? I can't tell you anything except that you're in
danger here."
"You mean--Mike?"
"I'm afraid so."
"It's hard to believe that Mike would want to harm me. But if you think
it's important...."
"I do. Will you call your aunt, now, and make the arrangements? I'll
take you over tonight."
She packed some things, and I took her to Newark in an aircab. Her aunt
was hospitable and cooperative, albeit a little confused. I checked
her apartment thoroughly. I was taking no chances that the aunt's
living room could be the potential scene of the crime. It wasn't--no
similarity.
"Promise me," I said, "that you won't go back to your apartment for any
reason until I tell you it's all right."
"I promise. But I may need some more things."
"Make a list, and I'll have a police woman pick them up for you."
"All right."
I arranged with the superintendent of her apartment building to have
the lights in her apartment turned on each evening, and turned off at
an appropriate time. I put a stakeout on her apartment building, and on
her aunt's. I got a detective assigned to shadow her, though she didn't
know it, of course. Then it was zero to five days, and I was quietly
going nuts.
Zero to four days. I walked into the D. F. C. room, and Walker swarmed
all over me. "I found it again," he said.
"Anything new?"
"No. Just the same thing. Exactly the same."
"When?"
"Two to three days."
I sat down wearily, and stared at Cronus. The screen was blank. "How
did you manage to invent that thing?" I said.
"I didn't really invent it. I just--discovered it. I was tinkering
with a TV set, and I changed some circuits and added a lot of gadgets,
just for the hell of it. The pictures I got were darned poor, but they
didn't seem to be coming from any known station--or combination of
stations, since they kept changing. That was interesting, so I kept
working on it. Then one day the screen showed me a big aircar smashup.
There were about ten units involved, and I told myself, 'Boy, these
Class D pictures are really overdoing it.' About a week later I opened
my morning paper, and there was the same smashup on page one. It took a
long time to get anybody interested."
He stopped suddenly as the Captain came charging out of his office.
"Brooklyn," he called. "Gregory was living in a rooming house in
Brooklyn. He left three weeks ago."
* * * * *
A lead with a dead end. No one knew where he'd gone. It proved that he
was somewhere in the vicinity of New York City, but I don't think any
of us ever doubted that.
"One thing is interesting," the Captain said. "He's using his own
name. No reason why he shouldn't, of course. He's not a criminal--but
he is a potential criminal, and _he doesn't know that_."
I saw, suddenly, that we had a double problem. We had to protect Stella
from Gregory, but we also had to protect Gregory from himself. If we
could find him.
"There's not much we can do," I said, "but keep on looking."
It was what Walker called the Critical Period. Something had to happen
on this day or the next, or Cronus was a monkey's dutch uncle.
"If we could only pick Gregory up and hold him for a couple of days,
maybe we could beat this," I told the Captain. "We've eliminated Stella
Emerson, we've locked the apartment, and caging Gregory should snap the
last thread."
He laughed sarcastically. "You think that would solve the problem?
Listen. We spotted a holdup, and I recognized the crook. He had a long
record. I had him picked up, and he was carrying a gun so we slapped
him in jail on a concealed weapons charge. He escaped, got another gun,
and committed the holdup right on schedule. I'm telling you, Cronus
shows exactly how the future is. We can't change it. I'm working as
hard as anyone else to prevent this, but I know for a certainty that
sometime today or tomorrow the girl and Gregory are going to meet in
that apartment--or in one exactly like it."
"We're going to change it this time," I said. On my way out I stopped
for a good look at Cronus. Nothing but a monster would give you a
murderer, and a victim, and the place and approximate time, and make
you completely helpless to do anything about it. I felt like giving
Cronus a firm kick in a vital part of its anatomy.
I called off my dinner date with Stella and prowled around Manhattan
looking for a big man with a pronounced limp. One speck of dust among
the millions. I noticed with satisfaction that I was not alone in my
search. Aircars were swooping in low for a quick look at pedestrians.
Foot patrolmen were scrutinizing every passerby. And detectives would
be making the rounds of the rooming houses and hotels with photographs.
Cab and bus drivers would be alerted.
For a man who had no reason to hide, Michael Rolland Gregory was doing
an expert job of keeping out of sight.
I radioed police headquarters at 10:00 P.M., and the Captain's voice
exploded at me. "Where the hell have you been? The stakeout at the
girl's apartment got Gregory. They're bringing him in."
I cut off without any of the formalities, and sprinted. I tore down the
corridor to the D. F. C. room, and burst in on what might have been a
funeral celebration. Walker sat with his face in his hands, and the
Captain was pacing in a tight circle.
"He got away," the Captain snarled. "Snapped the handcuffs like
toothpicks, beat up his escort and ran. The man must have the strength
of a utility robot."
"How did they happen to pick him up?" I wanted to know.
"He came strolling down the street and started to go into the apartment
building. Completely innocent about the whole thing, of course. He
didn't have any idea we were looking for him."
"He has now," I said. "It's going to be great sport locating him again."
We had a small army loose in the area where Gregory escaped, but for
all they found he might have burrowed into the pavement. I called
Stella and asked her to stay home from work the next day. I got the
stakeout on her aunt's apartment doubled.
I was up at dawn, prowling the streets, riding in patrolling aircars,
and I suppose generally making a nuisance of myself with calls to
headquarters. We put in a miserable day, and Gregory might have been
hiding on Mars, for all the luck we had.
I had my evening meal at a little sandwich shop, and did a leisurely
foot patrol along the street by Stella's apartment building. The
stakeout was on the job, and the superintendent had Stella's lights on.
I stood for a moment in the doorway, watching the few pedestrians, and
then I signaled an aircab.
"I'd like to circle around here a bit," I said.
"Sure thing," the cabbie said.
We crisscrossed back and forth above the streets, and I squinted at
pedestrians and watched the thin traffic pattern. Fifteen minutes later
we were back by the apartment building.
"Circle low around the building," I said.
"Oh, no! Want me to lose my license? I can't go out of the air lanes."
"You can this time," I said. "Police."