الفصل الفصل 7 · 第7章

* * * * *

Somewhere he had blundered; but he didn't know how. Experimentally he

wriggled his fingers. They moved a fraction of an inch, but no more.

He was helpless and couldn't say anything. He wasn't quite sure at the

moment that he wanted to.

"You were right, I didn't recognize you physically," continued the

man. "Nevertheless, you gave yourself away. The name you used this

afternoon, Chals Putsyn, is _my_ name. Do you remember now?"

Of course. He'd chosen Chals Putsyn at random, because he'd had to say

something, and everything would have been all right--except it

actually hadn't been a random choice. The associations had triggered

the wrong words into existence.

His mind flashed back to the time he'd discussed names with Borgenese.

What had he said?

Putsy. But it wasn't Putsy--it was Putsyn.

"You're very much improved," said the real Chals Putsyn, staring

curiously at him. "Let me recommend the retro treatment to you. In

fact I'd take it myself, but there are a few inconveniences."

Yeah, there were inconveniences--like starting over again and not

knowing who you were.

But Putsyn was right: he was physically improved. A freezer knocked a

man down and kept him there for half an hour. But Luis had only been

down a few minutes, and already he could move his feet, though he

didn't. It was a phenomenally fast recovery, and perhaps Putsyn wasn't

aware of it.

"The question is, what to do with you?" Putsyn seemed to be thinking

aloud. "The police are intolerant of killing. Maybe if I disposed of

every atom...." He shook his head and sighed. "But that's been tried,

and it didn't make any difference. So you'll have to remain

alive--though I don't think you'll approve of my treatment."

Luis didn't approve--it would be the same kind of treatment that Luise

had been exposed to, but more drastic in his case, because he was

aware of what was going on.

Putsyn came close to drag him away. It was time to use the energy he'd

been saving up, and he did.

Startled, Putsyn fired the freezer, but he was aiming at a twisting

target and the invisible energy only grazed Luis's leg. The leg went

limp and had no feeling, but his two hands were still good and that

was all he needed.

He tore the freezer away and put his other hand on Putsyn's throat. He

could feel the artificial larynx inside. He squeezed.

He lay there until Putsyn went limp.

* * * * *

When there was no longer any movement, he sat up and pried open the

man's jaws, thrusting his fingers into the mouth and jerking out the

artificial larynx. The next time he would hear Putsyn's real voice,

and maybe that would trigger his memory.

He crawled to the door and pulled himself up, leaning against the

wall. By the time Putsyn moved, he had regained partial use of his

leg.

"Now we'll see," he said. He didn't try to put anger in his voice; it

was there. "I don't have to tell you that I can beat answers out of

you."

"You don't know?" Putsyn laughed and there was relief in the sound.

"You can kick me around, but you won't get your answers!"

The man had physical courage, or thought he did, and sometimes that

amounted to the same thing. Luis shifted uneasily. It was the first

time he'd heard Putsyn's actual voice; it was disturbing, but it

didn't arouse concrete memories.

He stepped on the outstretched hand. "Think so?" he said. He could

hear the fingers crackle.

Putsyn paled, but didn't cry out. "Don't think you can kill me and get

away with it," he said.

He didn't sound too certain.

Slightly sick, Luis stepped off the hand. He couldn't kill the

man--and not just because of the police. He just couldn't do it. He

felt for the other gun in his pocket.

"This isn't a freezer," he said. "It's been changed over. I think I'll

give you a sample."

Putsyn blinked. "And lose all chance of finding out? Go ahead."

Luis had thought of that; but he hadn't expected Putsyn to.

"You see, there's nothing you can do," said Putsyn. "A man has a right

to protect his property, and I've got plenty of evidence that you

broke in."

"I don't think you'll go to the police," Luis said.

"You think not? My memory system isn't a fraud. Admittedly, I didn't

use it properly on Luise, but in a public demonstration I can prove

that it does work."

Luis nodded wearily to himself. He'd half suspected that it did work.

Here he was, with the solution so close--this man knew his identity

and that of Luise, and where Dorn Starret came into the tangle--and he

couldn't force Putsyn to tell.

He couldn't go to the police. They would ignore his charges, because

they were based on unprovable suspicions ... ignore him or arrest him

for breaking and entering.

"Everything's in your favor," he said, raising the gun. "But there's

one way to make you leave us alone."

"Wait," cried Putsyn, covering his face with his uninjured hand, as

if that would shield him. "Maybe we can work out an agreement."

Luis didn't lower the gun. "I mean it," he said.

"I know you mean it--I can't let you take away my life's work."

"Talk fast," Luis said, "and don't lie."

He stood close and listened while Putsyn told his story.

This is what had happened, he thought. This is what he'd tried so hard

to learn.

"I had to do it that way," Putsyn finished. "But if you're willing to

listen to reason, I can cut you in--more money than you've dreamed

of--and the girl too, if you want her."

Luis was silent. He wanted her--but now the thought was foolish.

Hopeless. This must be the way people felt who stood in the blast area

of a rocket--but for them the sensation lasted only an instant, while

for him the feeling would last the rest of his life.

"Get up," he said.

"Then it's all right?" asked Putsyn nervously. "We'll share it?"

"Get up."

Putsyn got to his feet, and Luis hit him. He could have used the

freezer, but that wasn't personal enough.

He let the body fall to the floor.

He dragged the inert form into the waiting room and turned on the

screen and talked to the police. Then he turned off the screen and

kicked open the door to the hall. He shouldered Putsyn and carried him

up to the roof and put him in the aircar.

* * * * *

Luise was there, puzzled and sleepy. For reasons of his own, Borgenese

had sent a squad to bring her in. Might as well have her here and get

it over with, Luis thought. She smiled at him, and he knew that Putsyn

hadn't lied about that part. She remembered him and therefore Putsyn

hadn't had time to do much damage.

Borgenese was at the desk as he walked in. Luis swung Putsyn off his

shoulder and dropped him into a chair. The man was still unconscious,

but wouldn't be for long.

"I see you brought a visitor," remarked Borgenese pleasantly.

"A customer," he said.

"Customers are welcome too," said the police counselor. "Of course,

it's up to us to decide whether he _is_ a customer."

Luise started to cross the room, but Borgenese motioned her back. "Let

him alone. I think he's going to have a rough time."

"Yeah," said Luis.

It was nice to know that Luise liked him now--because she wouldn't

after this was over.

He wiped the sweat off his forehead; all of it hadn't come from

physical exertion.

"Putsyn here is a scientist," he said. "He worked out a machine that

reverses the effects of the retro gun. He intended to go to everyone

who'd been retrogressed, and in return for giving them back their

memory, they'd sign over most of their property to him.

"Naturally, they'd agree. They all want to return to their former

lives that bad, and, of course, they aren't aware of how much money

they had. He had it all his way. He could use the machine to

investigate them, and take only those who were really wealthy. He'd

give them a partial recovery in the machine, and when he found out who

they were, give them a quick shot of a built-in retro gun, taking them

back to the time they'd just entered his office. They wouldn't suspect

a thing.

"Those who measured up he'd sign an agreement with, and to the other

poor devils he'd say that he was sorry but he couldn't help them."

Putsyn was conscious now. "It's not so," he said sullenly. "He can't

prove it."

"I don't think he's trying to prove that," said Borgenese, still calm.

"Let him talk."

Luis took a deep breath. "He might have gotten away with it, but he'd

hired a laboratory assistant to help him perfect the machine. She

didn't like his ideas; she thought a discovery like that should be

given to the public. He didn't particularly care what she thought, but

now the trouble was that she could build it too, and since he couldn't

patent it and still keep it secret, she was a threat to his plans." He

paused. "Her name was Luise Obispo."

* * * * *

He didn't have to turn his head. From the corner of his eye, he could

see startlement flash across her face. She'd got her name right; and

it was he who had erred in choosing a name.

"Putsyn hired a criminal, Dorn Starret, to get rid of her for him," he

said harshly. "That was the way Starret made his living. He was an

expert at it.

"Starret slugged her one night on Mars. He didn't retro her at once.

He loaded her on a spaceship and brought her to Earth. During the

passage, he talked to her and got to like her a lot. She wasn't as

developed as she is now, kind of mousy maybe, but you know how those

things are--he liked her. He made love to her, but didn't get very

far.

"He landed in another city on Earth and left his spaceship there; he

drugged her and brought her to the Shelter here and retroed her.

That's what he'd been paid to do.

"Then he decided to stick around. Maybe she'd change her mind after

retrogression. He stayed in a Shelter just across from the one she was

in. And he made a mistake. He hid the retro gun behind the screen.

"Putsyn came around to check up. He didn't like Starret staying

there--a key word or a familiar face sometimes triggers the memory. He

retroed Starret, who didn't have a gun he could get to in a hurry.

Maybe Putsyn had planned to do it all along. He'd built up an airtight

alibi when Luise disappeared, so that nobody would connect him with

that--and who'd miss a criminal like Starret?