In the morning he avoided shaving. He didn’t want to look in the
mirror. He ate, slept again, and listened to newscasts.
The newscaster announced that both Soleri and Frescura were dead.
Soleri had been seen entering the plant but he hadn’t come out.
Frescura’s death was harder to determine. He had left in the afternoon
but there were definite indications that he had returned to the main
workshop. The office building hadn’t been destroyed but the intense
heat from the adjacent shop had caused considerable damage. A report
had been found indicating that Frescura had planned a final experiment.
He had been aware of the danger, and had planned to perform it at night
in the workshop. An unexpected accident had apparently led to the
tragedy.
The loss of building and equipment was partly covered by insurance. The
company hastened to assure the public that there was sufficient capital
in reserve to enable it to survive the blow to its financial stability.
Talbot shut off the newscast. He might have liked Frescura. Except for
his excessive guilt complex the man had been heroic. And Talbot had to
admit that Frescura had been right in one detail. He hadn’t failed. The
perfect rocket motor would never be fully constructed in this century.
Meanwhile, he had a problem. What did the future hold for him? He
lunched frugally, and tried to control his agitation. In the middle of
the afternoon there was a knock on the door.
Randy had found him. She came in quietly and looked around at the
shabby little apartment.
“I didn’t come to ask questions, although I have a right to,” she said.
“But you made a mistake. Your salary allotment is on the executive
payroll. It came to me for verification.”
“You can’t prove anything,” he said. “And if you could--would it
matter?”
“I can prove all I want to prove,” she said.
“Soleri’s dead.”
“I know,” she said. “I’ve known for a long time. That wasn’t the only
mistake you made.”
“You’ve known for a long time?” He sat down.
“Since the night I took you home from the hospital--and stayed. You
said the wrong things. You kept giving yourself away. Don’t forget I
was hired because I’m a psychologist.”
She stared at him steadily. “You told me that nothing had changed
between us. But you were mistaken. I’m not in the habit of throwing
myself at men. I admit I did at Soleri, just a little. But he was not
in love with me. He might have been--except that he was in love with
Eleanor.”
“Why didn’t you tell someone?” Talbot said. “Take it to plant
protection?”
“I couldn’t,” she said. “I was upset, but I had trapped myself. I
couldn’t--not until I figured things out. A few days later I decided
not to interfere. You told me that a man had been killed and that you
intended to find out why. I knew that you were not responsible for what
had happened, that you were not just a self-seeking opportunist.”
So his masquerade hadn’t been nearly as good as he had thought!
At least two people had seen through it. “That arrangement you
mentioned--your statement that you were going home early. Was that
deliberate too?”
“I wanted more proof that you weren’t Soleri,” said Randy. “And--well,
I wanted to see if you minded. I’m glad you did.”
His thoughts were whirling and he couldn’t look at her. Mechanically
Talbot opened the envelope. There was more money in it for his three
weeks of employment than he had earned in any previous three months.
“When I put Talbot on the payroll I thought you were dead,” said Randy.
“It was going to be your last job--so I made it a good one. I signed
you on as assistant to Soleri.”
He could do without that. He didn’t need any industrial “assists” apart
from himself, and his training in transportation and electronics.
“Taft is hoping you’ll show up,” said Randy. “His two top men are gone.
He needs a new executive familiar with the organization. The company
will still do research, on a dozen new projects. It has to keep on
with experimental work if it’s going to survive.”
“Thanks for the tip!” He grinned at her. “I might go down and see what
position they have for a man of my ability. You’d like that, wouldn’t
you?”
He crossed the room and looked down at her. “But you’ve got to
understand this--there are some things for which I can’t be any man’s
assistant.”
“You won’t be,” said Randy.
“Don’t you know you never were?”
He knew it now. It was good to be himself again.
Transcriber’s Note:
This etext was produced from Fantastic Universe, March 1956 (Vol. 5,
No. 2.). Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
copyright on this publication was renewed.
Obvious errors in punctuation have been silently corrected in this
version, while spelling and hyphenation have been kept as is.