_Sprung by the Foe_
John Cauldron made contact with Peter Moray shortly after Virginia had
gone. Moray, busy with the details at hand, had not given much time to
thinking out the course of the future. Besides, it was Moray's business
to act upon orders from above. His was not the planner's lot.
"What's cooking?" he asked Cauldron.
"We're putting on a security silence on the space resonators," replied
Cauldron.
"Why?"
"Whether they think Bronson insane or not, whether he lives or dies, we
must see that there are as many bits of radioisotopic phosphor in Earth
One as possible."
"Yes, but--"
"Bronson may be judged insane. However, give him a chance and he will
demonstrate the space resonator. If he should pick up an Earth Two
broadcast or even a molecular pattern it will lend weight to his tale.
On the other hand, Bronson will be given credit--sane or otherwise--for
the invention of a new level of communication.
"When it becomes known that gross matter can be shipped across space
with the same scientific concept people will rush madly to develop and
build delivery sets."
"I get it."
"Sure," replied Cauldron. "It's easy enough. Tell Virginia--"
"She's gone already. She left to take care of Bronson."
"Oh blast! Look, Moray, how are people dressed there?"
"Why--I wouldn't know. Bronson was in pajamas when I intercepted him
and it's just barely morning now. I've not really been out yet."
"You should have taken time to get Virginia fixed up as close to one of
the women of this world as possible."
"Why?"
"Because she'll be less conspicuous," said Bronson. "If they get to
peering into Bronson's mind they'll come to the conclusion that he
isn't as mad as his tale sounds. Give them one overly-conspicuous
character to look at and they will definitely begin to think loud
thoughts."
"Well, why shouldn't Virginia get along?" demanded Moray.
"You're a young squirt," snapped Cauldron shortly. "You weren't around
before the blow-up. You haven't the vaguest idea of how much time and
hard money was spent by women on the luxury of appearing beautiful.
That has been curtailed on Earth Two by necessity and emergency. But
I'll bet a tall hat that they are still shelling out plenty there. Is
there a telephone book handy?"
"Yeah," said Moray.
"Then crack it to the classified section and tell me how many pages
there are of beauty shops, beauty salons, beauticians, or whatever
they're called."
Silence ensued for several minutes and then Peter Moray returned and
gave Cauldron the answer.
"You see?" replied Cauldron. "You have no idea of how life is lived
when there is no cause for fear."
"So--"
"So I'd feel better if Virginia were heading for that place in
something better than a hand-made dress of reclaimed cloth, a self-done
hairdo and flat-heeled slippers. Besides," he chuckled wryly, "it would
help her morale no end."
Harry Maddox turned from the hapless spectacle of Ed Bronson and
shrugged. "He's safe," he said. "Now what?..."
* * * * *
"They've gone into a security silence," said Kingston. "As we
expected."
"Then our friend Bronson is no longer needed?"
"Nope. They'll get along without him, now. What worries me is that the
psychiatrist may get to work on Bronson long enough to establish a
reasonable doubt in their minds."
"Even so," said Maddox thoughtfully, "we're stuck. Supposing we were
to kill him? It's obviously impossible in that room. It is equally
impossible for him to escape nor can we arrange it."
"What we need is a person who might be quite willing to murder Bronson
in cold blood for the sake of murder itself--or even better, for some
mundane motive."
"What about the characters from Earth Two?" suggested Maddox.
"Let's find 'em," snapped Kingston, apparently struck with an idea.
Maddox had little trouble in locating Moray. He looked in on Peter
Moray for a moment, and then went in search of Virginia. Virginia,
apparently, had disappeared.
It was quite impossible to search every possible place in Albuquerque
for a glimpse of Virginia and, after covering the pathway to and from
Bronson's cottage to the police station and thence to the police
hospital, Maddox gave up and returned to Moray, who had stopped
speaking to Cauldron. As Moray turned away from the equipment, the
telephone rang, and he went to it, wondering.
Moray lifted the phone and said, gingerly, "Yes? This is the Brons--"
"Moray! This is Virginia. I'm going to dig Bronson out of the clink and
bring him home. You hide or at least lie low. Follow?"
"Where are you?"
Virginia named an address.
Kingston snapped, "Get that address--quick. Know where it is?"
"Heck," drawled Maddox insolently, "This is the same Albuquerque. Sure
I know the address."
The video screen showed a blur, and settled on the showroom of a
ladies' apparel shop. Virginia was just hanging up the telephone and
Maddox whistled.
"Knockout," he said succinctly.
"She got the works," grinned Kingston. "Thanks to her we can watch."
"Well," said Maddox thoughtfully, "there goes your party with murderous
intent, and quite worldly too."
Kingston nodded. "That automatic in her bag isn't an unaccustomed
weapon," he said thoughtfully. "And she can and will claim attack. Self
defense...."
Clad in a printed silk that graced her svelte body caressingly, with
the sheerest of hose, the seams of which ran die-true down from the
hem of her dress to her sandal-shod, tiny feet, Virginia Carlson of
Earth Two was well on her way to being the most fetching woman in three
worlds. Her hair had been coiffed to perfection and her face had been
made up by an expert.
Virginia looked soft and sweet and perfect. She was a sight that made
men turn to watch but not to whistle because she radiated some quality
that rendered the wolf-whistle a definite insult.
Then, patting the automatic confidently, Virginia turned down along the
street once more and headed for the police hospital. Though she could
not know it, the plane of focus of the video resonator followed her.
Maddox and Kingston were watching her as she went.
"Once this is finished," thought Virginia, "I shall enjoy living like
this!"
Her feet, unaccustomed to dancing, did a pointless little step. Her
eyes sparkled, iris wide even in the morning sunshine, for Earth One
had no eternal light in the sky to keep a dazzling brightness day and
night. She pirouetted once and the sleek silk frock whirled and clung
to her legs. As she stopped, the weight of the automatic in her bag hit
her and reminded her of a job to be done before all this could be hers.
Bronson must be stopped--somehow!
Virginia knew how.
With a fetching smile on her face Virginia entered the police hospital
and asked for the police physician. Doctor Mason came and was a bit set
back by the obviously high quality of his caller.
"You're--?"
"Virginia Wells. I'm a friend of Mr. Bronson."
"Indeed? A peculiar case, Miss Wells," he observed gravely.
"Not at all," she said with a smile. "Mr. Bronson, as a hobby, has
been writing fiction and we got into an argument as to whether high
authority could hear a rather bizarre tale without thinking the story
teller was insane. I won."
"So that's it," grunted Doctor Mason. "He sounded sincere enough to me."
Virginia shrugged shapely shoulders and hurled at him the dazzle of
her smile. "After all," she said in an entrancing contralto, "he is a
successful author even though he doesn't work at it one hundred percent
of the time. He should be able to concoct a story that would hold
water, and he should be convincing. Why, that's his business!"
"Um."
Mason left the office for a moment and came back with Bronson at his
heels--dressed.
* * * * *
Virginia gave Bronson a warning look and then laughed at him. "Like
spending the night in the clink, Ed?" she asked brightly.
"No!" he snapped.
"You needn't have," she said with a smile. "All you had to do was tell
them the truth. Why, they'd have thrown Orson Welles into jail for the
Martian Invasion if he hadn't been famous."
Bronson started. The Orson Welles affair had taken place a long time
ago--before either of them were born, in fact. This rather glorious
girl was trying to tell him something.
"Yeah," he drawled, stalling for time.
"All right, so you lost," she told him. "And now, if you don't have to
stay here for playing pranks, we can go on home and write it up."
Bronson looked at Mason. Mason shrugged. "What's the pitch?" he
asked. "As for me, no--we don't want you though I'd like to have you
reprimanded for wasting time."
"Come to think of it, Doctor Mason, how should a man try to tell high
authority of some impending form of outrageous doom?" asked Virginia.
"Why--" stammered Doctor Mason, "I--"
"Yes," snapped Bronson angrily. "Tell us!"
"Why?"
"Because," said Virginia, sweetly, "some day someone is really going
to come up with invaders from outer space or some other unbelievable
little item and, while the big bright brass is psychoanalyzing the
discoverer, the invasion or the doom will take place."
"Why--I'm--"
"Forget it, Mason," said Bronson. Then, because he was completely
unaware of his visitor's name or anything else about her save that she
knew something that prompted her to aid him, Bronson turned to the girl
and held out an elbow.
"May I escort you home, Madame Pompadour?"
Virginia smiled at him with exaggerated enticement. "Only if you want
to be Benjamin Franklin, dear."
Doctor Mason stood up and hurled the door open angrily. "Get the devil
out of here!" he snapped. He was still looking for a fine vocabulary
when they left. Once outside and on the street beyond, Ed Bronson
paused.
"Now," he said seriously, "what in the name of eternal sin is this?"
"I had to get you out of there," she said. "I'm glad you are sharp
enough to follow suit."
"You can be glad that Mason did not choose to question me about you,"
snapped Bronson. "I'd have denied you deeply."
"All a part of your tale to convince," she smiled. "I'd have forced it
into the open--forced Mason to let us meet. Then we'd make out."
"Fine, fine," he said with a bitter grin. "Just tell me what the score
is right now."
"I happen to know that you are right," she told him.
"But--"
She nodded. She explained at length that she had been tinkering in her
cellar and had come in with something that had permitted her to hear
his half of the initial discussion with the girl named Carlson.
She paused at that point and grinned at him. "Just to keep the record
clear," she said, "I'm Virginia Wells."
"Well, Miss Wells, I'm grateful. But what does a girl like you find
interesting in tinkering in the cellar?"
"You call me Virginia like everybody else," she told him. "As for
tinkering in the cellars, when has a woman's appeal anything to do with
the liking for science--and furthermore I might even resent the phrase
'like you' that was hurled at me. Do you think anybody that looks like
this must necessarily be completely vacant above the ears?"
Bronson smiled. "Not every girl," he said with a sour smile. "But the
percentage assays high."
Virginia took a deep breath. Thin though her story was, he'd accepted
it for the nonce.
"Where do we go from here?" he asked. "I want to reason this thing out."
Virginia smiled tolerantly. "My equipment isn't very good," she said.
"I'd like to see yours."
Bronson smiled. For hours he had been itching to show someone the
equipment and this was his chance. He was going to take the opportunity
regardless of where the chance came. Virginia had known that too!
The girl tucked a slender hand into the crook of his elbow. "Let's go,"
she said with a bright smile.
Bronson nodded and they started toward his home.
He walked easily, she thought, neither too fast nor too slowly. His
stride seemed to coincide with hers so that the periods of out-of-step
walking were minimized. They were not nonexistent, for Ed Bronson was
a tall, long-legged man and, though Virginia's legs were long and
slender, she was not so tall as Ed Bronson by seven inches.
"I might suggest," said Bronson thoughtfully, "that we can do a bit of
talking while we collect us some lunch. Me--I'm hungry."
Virginia paused. Visiting a restaurant was another thing that
was seldom done on Earth Two, excepting by those who found it
essential. This she viewed as another luxury and she wanted to try
it. On the other hand, she had too thin a story prepared regarding
her 'experiments' with the space-resonant crystals of radioisotopic
phosphor, of her listening to Bronson and his subsequent rescue from
the asylum.
Yet--Virginia shrugged slightly--she could probably handle this.
Besides, she could learn more of Earth One were she to visit with
Bronson.
Virginia nodded and smiled at him. Bronson paused in mid-stride and
turned toward a small restaurant he knew. Inwardly he chuckled to
himself. It was not always that a woman rescuer, fellow scientist and
friend-indeed was so very delectable. Bronson was proud to have such a
woman in his company.