[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of Tomorrow April 1963
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
He was as ancient as time--and as strange as
his own frightful battle against incredible odds!
I
In his room at the Elsby Commercial Hotel, Tremaine opened his luggage
and took out a small tool kit, used a screwdriver to remove the bottom
cover plate from the telephone. He inserted a tiny aluminum cylinder,
crimped wires and replaced the cover. Then he dialed a long-distance
Washington number and waited half a minute for the connection.
"Fred, Tremaine here. Put the buzzer on." A thin hum sounded on the
wire as the scrambler went into operation.
"Okay, can you read me all right? I'm set up in Elsby. Grammond's boys
are supposed to keep me informed. Meantime, I'm not sitting in this
damned room crouched over a dial. I'll be out and around for the rest
of the afternoon."
"I want to see results," the thin voice came back over the filtered
hum of the jamming device. "You spent a week with Grammond--I can't
wait another. I don't mind telling you certain quarters are pressing
me."
"Fred, when will you learn to sit on your news breaks until you've got
some answers to go with the questions?"
"I'm an appointive official," Fred said sharply. "But never mind
that. This fellow Margrave--General Margrave. Project Officer for the
hyperwave program--he's been on my neck day and night. I can't say I
blame him. An unauthorized transmitter interfering with a Top Secret
project, progress slowing to a halt, and this Bureau--"
"Look, Fred. I was happy in the lab. Headaches, nightmares and all.
Hyperwave is my baby, remember? You elected me to be a leg-man: now let
me do it my way."
"I felt a technical man might succeed where a trained investigator
could be misled. And since it seems to be pinpointed in your home
area--"
"You don't have to justify yourself. Just don't hold out on me. I
sometimes wonder if I've seen the complete files on this--"
"You've seen all the files! Now I want answers, not questions! I'm
warning you, Tremaine. Get that transmitter. I need someone to hang!"
* * * * *
Tremaine left the hotel, walked two blocks west along Commerce Street
and turned in at a yellow brick building with the words ELSBY
MUNICIPAL POLICE cut in the stone lintel above the door. Inside, a
heavy man with a creased face and thick gray hair looked up from behind
an ancient Underwood. He studied Tremaine, shifted a toothpick to the
opposite corner of his mouth.
"Don't I know you, mister?" he said. His soft voice carried a note of
authority.
Tremaine took off his hat. "Sure you do, Jess. It's been a while,
though."
The policeman got to his feet. "Jimmy," he said, "Jimmy Tremaine." He
came to the counter and put out his hand. "How are you, Jimmy? What
brings you back to the boondocks?"
"Let's go somewhere and sit down, Jess."
In a back room Tremaine said, "To everybody but you this is just a
visit to the old home town. Between us, there's more."