Frescura got up hastily as he heard Taft’s familiar voice in Randy’s
office. “I’ll leave,” he said, folding the sheet Talbot had just signed.
“Stick around,” Talbot urged. “I’m sure he wants to see you.” He hadn’t
thought Taft would come so soon, but he was not at all displeased. He
was equally grateful for Frescura’s presence, feeling confident that
it would provoke some interesting reactions. But he was destined to be
disappointed.
Frescura wriggled his thick mustache. “I came up to ask Randy
something. I’ll go talk to her. If Taft wants to see me he’ll come out
to the lab.”
“Suit yourself,” said Talbot.
Frescura left. He could hear him conversing briefly with Taft in
Randy’s office before Taft came in.
Andrew Taft was not the lean graying figure so familiar to the newscast
public. He was tall, but he was also considerably heavier than he
appeared to be on the screen. Distinguished citizens had certain
prerogatives, and the networks saw to it that the lighting dealt kindly
with them.
“Sorry about the party,” Taft said on entering. “I flew up to try to
persuade you to change your mind.”
Talbot shook hands, using his most cautious Soleri approach. “You know
how it is,” he said in half-apology. “I’ve fallen behind since the
tragedy. I’ve got to dig my way out.”
“I’ve worried about you,” said Taft. “So has Eleanor.” He glanced up
quickly. “Your insistence on shunning social engagements doesn’t have
anything to do with her, does it?”
“It doesn’t,” Talbot assured him.
“South Africa may be a nice place to live. But it’s quite a distance.
And I really am in a mess here.”
“Nonsense. You can fly there in a few hours,” said Taft.
“Eight,” Talbot reminded him. “Service isn’t good to that part of the
globe.”
“You can cut the time in half if you charter a direct flight,” said
Taft. “I suppose it would tire you out. But over-work can kill. You
ought to call Eleanor. You know she won’t take the initiative.”
Talbot decided to risk a decisive move. “I’ll call her now,” he said.
“No, wait until I leave,” said Taft hastily. “I don’t want her to know
I came to see you.”
“Tonight then,” suggested Talbot.
“Tonight’s fine,” said Taft. He chatted on inconsequentially for a
time. Talbot could see that Soleri’s relationship with Eleanor’s
family--though nominally cordial--was actually quite superficial,
except possibly with Eleanor herself. He would have to be careful not
to trip there.
“What’s behind all this?” said Taft finally. “I know you. You work
hard, but you can also relax. You’re not the kind to turn down an
invitation just because you’re busy.”
He’d judged the man correctly. Taft was shrewd, and quick to protect
his own interests, daughter or company. “I may as well be frank,” said
Talbot heavily. “I’m afraid we’re not going to develop the perfect
rocket motor--or anything close to it.”
“That’s not what you said in your last report.”
“Official optimism.”
“It’s not Frescura’s attitude. I talked to him in Randy’s office and
he’s brimming over with enthusiasm.”
“Frescura will back his own work if it takes the last cent of the
stockholders’ money.”
“Don’t forget that some of that money belongs to him. He has stock in
the company too. In fact, his holdings exceed yours.”
“I know. But we’ve spent six times the amount we originally estimated.
And the end’s not even in sight. I haven’t made up my mind, but I’ve
been wondering lately. Perhaps we should abandon this line of research
entirely. It may be the wisest course.”
Taft stared at him, aghast. “You must be out of your mind. What would
we do with this plant? Close it down?”
“We don’t have to. We can lease research facilities to other companies.
We can tackle short-range projects that _will_ pay off.”
Taft got up and paced the floor. “You’re in favor of abandoning the
perfect rocket motor?”
“I didn’t say that. I merely said that I was thinking about it. Of
course an alternative would be to reduce the scale of our efforts. Cut
it back to a few men--something that we can afford.”
“I don’t know,” said Taft in agitation. “Frescura isn’t going to like
this.”
“That’s another matter I wanted to discuss with you,” said Talbot.
“Frescura is a valuable man--too brilliant to be wasted on a project
that has no chance of success. We should assign him to something more
worthy of his talent.”
Taft sat down. “You are actually saying that we should forget about
going to the stars.”
“Not exactly. I think the idea should be placed in the proper
perspective. Later developments may enable us to resurrect it.” Talbot
was somewhat bewildered. Taft’s reaction had surprised him--although he
couldn’t have said quite what it was that he had expected.
“Don’t you see what it means?” said Taft, his face lighting up. “If we
develop the motor in our own shops it will be _ours_. We won’t have to
license it to others. Every bit of interstellar trade will be carried
in our ships. Ours alone. _Monopoly_.”
“Monopoly is nice,” said Talbot. “Bankruptcy isn’t. That’s what we face
unless we cut down.”
“TRANSPORTATION is years away from bankruptcy,” said Taft sharply.
* * * * *
It was a shock to hear even that admission. Talbot’s own knowledge of
the company’s financial position was fair. But Taft was in a better
position to know the facts and if he said, even privately, that ruin
was years away it could be assumed that he had grave doubts about the
stability of the corporation.
The startling fact stood revealed in all its naked ugliness. The
largest company in the solar system was none too secure. And it was the
reckless expenditures that Soleri was directing that had led them to
the brink of disaster. At least he had uncovered one motive. Someone
with a knowledge of the truth was out to wreck TRANSPORTATION.
Before he could collect his thoughts there was an unexpected
interruption. The door opened and Frescura came in, his face dark with
anger. “As long as this is a stockholders’ meeting I thought I’d make
it a quorum,” he said.
This much Talbot knew. Taft was the largest individual holder, owning
something less than fifty percent of the total corporate shares.
Frescura held a lesser percentage, though fractionally more than Soleri
did. Together the three of them constituted an actual working majority.
It had been their combined votes which had backed the project from the
beginning.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” said Frescura. “Randy touched the wrong
button while we were talking and I overheard part of the conversation.
It concerned me--so I came in.”
“We were discussing policy,” said Taft soothingly. “Nothing was
decided. You understand that.”
“I understand,” said Frescura in a hard set tone. “I also understand
that this man is dangerous. He is _not_ Soleri.”
The assurance that Talbot had gradually been acquiring suddenly
collapsed. He sat motionless, while a cold constriction tightened about
his heart.
Taft looked from Talbot to Frescura. “You can’t be serious? I ought to
be able to recognize my chief executive and my own daughter’s fiance.”
“Ordinally you would. But this man is a clever impostor,” said
Frescura. “He wants to abandon the project. Soleri would have recoiled
from the thought.”
“I see no significance in that. Anyone can change his mind.”
“Proof is on the way,” said Frescura. He seemed very sure of himself.
“I began to suspect him when he put questions to me Soleri would not
have needed to ask.”
“It still isn’t proof.” But Taft was wavering. He turned and stared
uncertainly at Talbot.
“You can’t expect me to defend myself from a charge like this,” said
Talbot. He realized at once that it was a weak answer, and tried to
strengthen it. “The fire in my office wasn’t trivial. It’s true, I may
have suffered a slight memory loss. The bursting of a few tiny blood
vessels in my brain would account for it. But that doesn’t mean I’m
less capable than before.”
There was no possibility of escape. At Frescura’s command plant
protection would close every exit in the building. And then he’d be
charged with sabotage and murder.
He had to sit it out. If he was exposed his only chance would be to
claim that for a time he had actually thought himself to be Soleri.
They’d investigate him psychologically, but mind tests weren’t exact
and he had a good chance of making them believe he was telling the
truth.
“Nobody’s doubting your mental competence,” said Taft. “But there is
some question as to who you are. Are you Evan Soleri?”
“What can I say to that?” said Talbot. “Are you Andrew Taft?”
“That’s not a defense,” said Frescura with smooth confidence. “It won’t
be difficult to establish your identity.” He turned abruptly. “Come in
Randy.”
The door opened and Randy entered the room. Talbot was sure she had
been listening to the entire conversation. He had never doubted her
loyalty, but if Frescura had convinced her that he was not worthy of
loyalty--
Frescura took the folder from her. Talbot knew what was coming but
curiously it relieved him. At least Randy wasn’t responsible.
“You can leave now,” Frescura said sharply to her. Talbot knew she
would continue to listen outside the door, and was glad he would not
have to see her face.
“His right hand was badly burned,” Frescura was saying. “New skin was
grafted on. We can’t prove anything from that.”
“Fingerprints?” said Taft. “It’s an old method of identification, but
I’ve often wondered why it has fallen into disrepute.”
“Because of the prevalence of skin grafts,” said Frescura. “But for
certain purposes it’s still the most accurate method.” He smiled. “It’s
in the hospital record that his left hand wasn’t burned. No skin was
grafted on. The prints on that hand will show us who he really is.”
He shook the folder at Talbot. “This man signed an authorization
shortly before you came. When I heard what he said to you my suspicions
were confirmed. I sent Randy down to plant protection for a comparison
of prints. Here are the results.”
He opened the folder, and looked at the three typed pages within. He
stood there motionless, staring in consternation until the papers slid
out and fluttered to the floor. His face was ashen. He reached out for
support and lowered himself into a chair.
“What does it say?” said Taft impatiently. “My God, what’s happening
around this place anyway?” He scooped up the papers and read them
silently. He passed them over to Talbot. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Truly
sorry. I should never have had even the slightest doubt about you.”
Talbot’s sight blurred as he read the comment from plant protection:
“Comparison of prints with those in our file reveals that Evan Soleri
signed this authorization. The left hand prints match perfectly. The
right hand indicates a skin graft from which no identification can be
made.”
Empathy had saved him. It had collapsed the difference between one
person and another to nothing--zero. It had changed more than his face
to match the subject identity. To the tips of his fingers he was now
Soleri. The change hadn’t been made all at once; perhaps it had taken
a week to reach completion. But here he was, safely Soleri--or trapped
in the other identity. For the moment he preferred to think of it as
safety.
“There are other tests,” he said to Frescura. “I’ll take them all,
including the empathy index.”
Frescura stirred dully. “It will be zero point ninety-five,” he said.
“Don’t bait him,” said Taft sharply. “He made a mistake, granted. He
accused you unjustly. But you must remember that you attacked a project
he has devoted his life to. He’s emotionally upset. What he did was
understandable.”
Frescura’s eyes roamed across the ceiling. “I couldn’t let you stop
me,” he whispered.
Taft grasped his shoulder encouragingly. “Nothing will stop us. We’re
going to the stars--no matter what it costs. However, you’ve been
working too hard. I’ll send my doctor to you. He’s strict about some
things but he’s the best. He’ll get you back in shape.”
Taft turned to Talbot. “As for you, I don’t like memory lapses, even
in minor matters. I want you to promise me you’ll see my doctor after
he gets through with Frescura.”
“I’ll be glad to,” Talbot said, without animosity. “I’ve been wondering
what to do.”
Taft swung back to Frescura. By some personal miracle the man had
pulled himself together again. He was alert and forceful. Taft regarded
him with approval.
“That’s better. Go home and rest. Don’t work today.”
“You’re right,” Frescura said. “I should do that. I’ll have to drop by
the lab and tell the boys I won’t be in for a few days.”
“Evan will tell them. We’ll call a cab and get you on your way. Don’t
worry about anything. The project will be continued.”
They waited until Frescura left in an aircab. Taft got up, shaking his
head bewilderedly. “Well, I’ll go too. Don’t forget that call tonight.”
“I won’t. I’ll be sure and call her.”
“Good.” Taft wiped his forehead. “This has been a hassle. We have them
occasionally but I’ve never seen one to equal this.” Still shaking his
head he went away.
Talbot leaned back and closed his eyes. He had achieved a victory
that was far from superficial and it gave him a feeling of personal
solidity. He was Soleri and he was going to be Soleri and nobody would
ever know the difference.
But the rest didn’t make sense.
Both Taft and Frescura were now beyond suspicion. He had nothing to go
on--nothing at all. He’d have to re-examine the whole problem from the
beginning. Somewhere within the plant was a criminal conspirator who
didn’t want TRANSPORTATION to develop the perfect rocket motor. He was
still there. He had killed once, and he wouldn’t hesitate to kill again.
Why? If he could put his finger on the man’s motivating impulse he
could track him down with little trouble. Somehow it seemed to go far
beyond ordinary commercial rivalry.
Talbot heard a sound at his elbow and opened his eyes. Randy was
standing beside the desk.
“Sleeping?” she asked, smiling at him.
“No, just thinking,” he said.
She leaned toward him. “Think about this then. I want to leave early.”
He stared at her, puzzled. “No. There’s work to do.”
“But there isn’t,” she assured him. “I ought to know.”
He realized then that she wanted him to know that she had listened
to most of the conversation. Probably she’d read the note from plant
protection. Talbot thought of the call he’d have to make later. He had
no desire to make her listen to that too.
“All right,” he said. “I guess you know by now that I can’t play the
stern employer when you look at me like that.”
She smiled at him, turned and went out.
He remained in his office thinking throughout the afternoon. He went
home late--and alone.