"It won't take long to tell; we don't know much yet." Tremaine covered
the discovery of the powerful unidentified interference on the
high-security hyperwave band, the discovery that each transmission
produced not one but a pattern of "fixes" on the point of origin. He
passed a sheet of paper across the table. It showed a set of concentric
circles, overlapped by a similar group of rings.
"I think what we're getting is an echo effect from each of these
points of intersection. The rings themselves represent the diffraction
pattern--"
"Hold it, Jimmy. To me it just looks like a beer ad. I'll take your
word for it."
"The point is this, Jess: we think we've got it narrowed down to this
section. I'm not sure of a damn thing, but I think that transmitter's
near here. Now, have you got any ideas?"
"That's a tough one, Jimmy. This is where I should come up with the
news that Old Man Whatchamacallit's got an attic full of gear he says
is a time machine. Trouble is, folks around here haven't even taken
to TV. They figure we should be content with radio, like the Lord
intended."
"I didn't expect any easy answers, Jess. But I was hoping maybe you had
something ..."
"Course," said Jess, "there's always Mr. Bram ..."
"Mr. Bram," repeated Tremaine. "Is he still around? I remember him as a
hundred years old when I was kid."
"Still just the same, Jimmy. Comes in town maybe once a week, buys his
groceries and hikes back out to his place by the river."
"Well, what about him?"
"Nothing. But he's the town's mystery man. You know that. A little
touched in the head."
"There were a lot of funny stories about him, I remember," Tremaine
said. "I always liked him. One time he tried to teach me something
I've forgotten. Wanted me to come out to his place and he'd teach me.
I never did go. We kids used to play in the caves near his place, and
sometimes he gave us apples."
* * * * *
"I've never seen any harm in Bram," said Jess. "But you know how this
town is about foreigners, especially when they're a mite addled. Bram
has blue eyes and blond hair--or did before it turned white--and he
talks just like everybody else. From a distance he seems just like an
ordinary American. But up close, you feel it. He's foreign, all right.
But we never did know where he came from."
"How long's he lived here in Elsby?"
"Beats me, Jimmy. You remember old Aunt Tress, used to know all about
ancestors and such as that? She couldn't remember about Mr. Bram. She
was kind of senile, I guess. She used to say he'd lived in that same
old place out on the Concord road when she was a girl. Well, she died
five years ago ... in her seventies. He still walks in town every
Wednesday ... or he did up till yesterday anyway."
"Oh?" Tremaine stubbed out his cigarette, lit another. "What happened
then?"
"You remember Soup Gaskin? He's got a boy, name of Hull. He's Soup all
over again."
"I remember Soup," Tremaine said. "He and his bunch used to come in
the drug store where I worked and perch on the stools and kid around
with me, and Mr. Hempleman would watch them from over back of the
prescription counter and look nervous. They used to raise cain in the
other drug store...."
"Soup's been in the pen since then. His boy Hull's the same kind. Him
and a bunch of his pals went out to Bram's place one night and set it
on fire."
"What was the idea of that?"
"Dunno. Just meanness, I reckon. Not much damage done. A car was
passing by and called it in. I had the whole caboodle locked up here
for six hours. Then the sob sisters went to work: poor little tyke
routine, high spirits, you know the line. All of 'em but Hull are back
in the streets playin' with matches by now. I'm waiting for the day
they'll make jail age."
"Why Bram?" Tremaine persisted. "As far as I know, he never had any
dealings to speak of with anybody here in town."
"Oh hoh, you're a little young, Jimmy," Jess chuckled. "You never knew
about Mr. Bram--the young Mr. Bram--and Linda Carroll."
Tremaine shook his head.
"Old Miss Carroll. School teacher here for years; guess she was retired
by the time you were playing hookey. But her dad had money, and in
her day she was a beauty. Too good for the fellers in these parts. I
remember her ridin by in a high-wheeled shay, when I was just a nipper.
Sitting up proud and tall, with that red hair piled up high. I used to
think she was some kind of princess...."
"What about her and Bram? A romance?"
* * * * *
Jess rocked his chair back on two legs, looked at the ceiling,
frowning. "This would ha' been about nineteen-oh-one. I was no more'n
eight years old. Miss Linda was maybe in her twenties--and that made
her an old maid, in those times. The word got out she was setting
her cap for Bram. He was a good-looking young feller then, over six
foot, of course, broad backed, curly yellow hair--and a stranger to
boot. Like I said, Linda Carroll wanted nothin to do with the local
bucks. There was a big shindy planned. Now, you know Bram was funny
about any kind of socializing; never would go any place at night. But
this was a Sunday afternoon and someways or other they got Bram down
there; and Miss Linda made her play, right there in front of the town,
practically. Just before sundown they went off together in that fancy
shay. And the next day, she was home again--alone. That finished off
her reputation, as far as the biddies in Elsby was concerned. It was
ten years 'fore she even landed the teaching job. By that time, she was
already old. And nobody was ever fool enough to mention the name Bram
in front of her."
Tremaine got to his feet. "I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your ears
and eyes open for anything that might build into a lead on this, Jess.
Meantime, I'm just a tourist, seeing the sights."
"What about that gear of yours? Didn't you say you had some kind of
detector you were going to set up?"
"I've got an oversized suitcase," Tremaine said. "I'll be setting it up
in my room over at the hotel."
"When's this bootleg station supposed to broadcast again?"
"After dark. I'm working on a few ideas. It might be an infinitely
repeating logarithmic sequence, based on--"
"Hold it, Jimmy. You're over my head." Jess got to his feet. "Let me
know if you want anything. And by the way--" he winked broadly--"I
always did know who busted Soup Gaskin's nose and took out his front
teeth."