Reversion
a Novel by Varkel
Fall, 2002
Chapter
19: Pressure
Traceability was an early concern ― meaning investigators� ability to trace us back to our ultimate base in Cleveland, but now with Clara staying behind it became paramount.� For a year the relays had been in place over the mountains for communication between Cleveland and Ferndep using spread-spectrum radio and from there on down to Baylor, but shipping the 21,000 dicks from Cleveland to Baylor presented a problem.� The plan to pass them through Ferndep would leave the Ferndep-Baylor connection exposed, if we used a public carrier.� So Fernworks bought a logo-less ten-wheeler and on an August weekend the four youngest principals loaded boxes in Cleveland and unloaded a ship�s worth of spare dicks in Ferndep, followed by two ships� worth at Baylor, 31,500 in all, both installations having been shutdown for the occasion.� On the following Monday, the Baylor employees returned on two shifts to install them.
Air tightness was the problem that would have killed us.� Flat plates covering ships, however well reinforced with stringers, are susceptible to bulging under the significant pressure of a full atmosphere.� In our first test, Ship One was so leaky even the Baylor pumps couldn�t raise it beyond half an atmosphere of pressure.� I was very glad indeed we hadn�t tried its tightness at 100 miles altitude!� Closer set fasteners, more stringers and thicker calking were applied.� By the first of September, Ship One had held 15-PSI gauge for twelve hours.� Karl released the pressure and proceeded with the stealth painting.
The final coat of paint combined ingredients used by Clara�s people plus molecular alignment in the dicks� magnetic field.� It produced a mirror-like finish of high efficiency.� I noticed several of our �Rosies� preening before it.� In both my opinion and that of the 24th Century, flat surfaces that were quality mirrors would be less susceptible to eyeball detection than the Gulf War�s black paint, even at night.
We applied the tightening improvements to Ship Two before the first pressure test and found that it needed only a bit more calk.� Its stealthing began immediately.
* * *
The spread-spectrum transceiver at Baylor was a small metal box on my desk connected to a Yagi pretending to be a TV antenna on the roof.� It had a red light to blink for an incoming call.� Second Shift had just begun and I was sitting at my desk working on the longer-range schedule ― what should we do after we visited the moon? ― and contemplating supper when the light began flashing.
I inserted the earpiece that was also the microphone and said, �Maple here,� expecting to hear Hans or maybe Rosalind in Ferndep.
But it was Clara in Cleveland, voice somewhat strained.� �Tim, I�ve just learned something that can�t wait.�
�A problem with the baby?�
�No, no.�� She sighed audibly.� �It�s about Cleaver.� Yesterday he received a letter in the mail and got excited.� He called someone on the telephone, apparently the writer, and discussed it.� Listening to his end of the conversation, I pieced together what it was all about.� Tim, he has learned the essential truth.�
�What do you mean, Clara?�
�He has a man in Washington, somebody on Eisenhower�s inner staff.� This man swore that no federal project named Fernworks exists and further that no one in the federal government is building a spaceship.�
�Good god!� Are you sure that�s what was said?�
�Oh, yes.� Cleaver repeated it over and over.� �Spaceships with government funding, that lying little bastard!�� And I have a viewer for you.� Alice is on her way to the airport with it now.� She�ll land in Charlotte at ten in the morning.�
Clara and Rosalind possessed the only equipment capable of loading viewers, so with Rosalind currently in Ferndep the fastest way for us to transmit ladybug images was by courier.� I was silent, thinking fast but apparently not fast enough.
�Tim, did you hear me?�
�Yes, dear.� I hope Alice is coming prepared.�
�Prepared?�
�To go to the moon.�
�So � soon?�
�Late tomorrow night, if we can possibly make it.�
It was her turn to be silent.� I waited.� At last she sighed.� �We thought you�d do that.�
�If you contact Rosalind before I can, tell her to take the Charlotte flight that arrives soonest without regard to layover time.
�I�ll tell her.�
I thought a moment longer.� �What did Cleaver do next?�
�Put in a call to his detectives.� He told Jenkins to meet him at O�Hare ― in the private section.�
�Shit!� Does Cleaver own an airplane?�
�Maybe.� He could certainly rent one.�
�In that case he�ll probably arrive here before midnight.�� I took a deep breath.� �Clara, I may have to do some things that could affect our relationship.�
She hesitated.� At last she said softly, �Nothing will affect that.� You�ll always be my magnificent hero.�
I chuckled with genuine pleasure.� �Clara, having you in my corner is certainly my greatest advantage.�
�Thank you.� I�ll always be there, Tim.�
�Thank you, you darling!�� I sighed and added, �Let me go.� I have a lot to do now.�
�Call me when you can ― when you�re airborne, at least.�
�I shall.� I love you.�
�Oh, Tim!�
The beep sounded, indicated loss of signal.� I removed the earplug.� A lot to do, but where to begin?
Lacey had gone home and Karl was out of his office.� I dashed out onto the factory floor.� I found him at Ship Two, listening to the remarks of Kelliam and a man whose name escaped me.� I stopped at his side.� They were discussing maintenance of the fabrication machines.
�Excuse me, Carl: urgent business.�
He took a few steps away with me.� I asked quietly, �How close are the ships to operational state?�
�We put the outer coat of paint on Ship Two yesterday.� It�s dry.�
�What about provender?�
He shrugged.� �We haven�t put anything aboard yet.� But the factory water tanks are full, ready to load.� The frozen food will be delivered Friday.�
�That�s too late.�
He blinked.� �Eh?�
I stared into his eyes.� �I want you immediately to begin charging the dicks.� Shut down all heavy equipment and divert all power from the dam, except for factory lighting.� Also draw the full capacity of our lines from Duke Power.� I want both ships charging at the maximum rate for the next 24 hours.�
He looked away while his fingers danced on his thigh.� �Mein Gott!� That�s enough energy to reach Jupiter!�� His eyes widened on mine.� �What�s going on?�
�We�re going on ― to the moon as soon as that charge is on board.�
�What�s the rush?� What happened?�
�We�re going to have visitors,� I answered grimly, �probably beginning tonight but definitely tomorrow.� Also pipe in a half load of water for each ship.� It�s good you had the foresight to use gravity feed for that.� As to food supplies, grab a few sandwiches, cakes and pop bottles from the snack bar.�
�The blind woman�s not here!�
�Do it tomorrow morning when she is.�
�But � but ��
�And the spacesuits.� What�s their condition?�
�We�ve tested mine and Rosalind�s but not yet yours and Alice�s.�
�Tomorrow verify pressure tightness, at least.� For now make the connections and start charging the dicks.� Then come to my office.� We have a lot of detail to cover.� Be prepared to answer this question: which workers do we actually need to help us launch the ships?�
He stared at me with a blank face.� I said, �And show a little enthusiasm.� In 36 hours you�ll be sitting on the moon.�
* * *
�Mr. Maple, could I speak with you a moment?�
I looked up.� The woman in jeans and red bandanna on my office doorsill had a worried face.
�Of course, Maryanne.� Come in.�
She crossed the room and leaned over my desk, hands clasping the edges.� �I couldn�t find Mr. Haines.�� She took a breath.� �Don�t know if it�s my business to tell you, but � I ��
�Go ahead, Maryanne.� What is it?�
Her mouth worked indecisively.� Finally she burst out, �He ain�t Jimpson!�
�Ah, Jimpson?�
�Arthur Jimpson.� I used to walk him some on Sundays afore I met my James.� But the man watching the meters ain�t him.�
�Then who is he?�
�I don�t know.� Ain�t never seen him anywhere in the hills afore now.�
�Really?�� I smiled.� �Is he what you folks call a �flatlander,� Maryanne?�
�Must be.� But he�s a-wearing the Fernworks shirt with Arthur�s name on it.�
Karl had issued forest-green protective jackets to all workers, each with his name and our symbol, a curling fern leaf.
�You�ve been here long enough to know all the workers, haven�t you, Maryanne?�
She smiled slightly.� �I think I was the third one hired.�
�And you say this stranger wearing Jimpson�s shirt is watching the charge flow meters?�
�Yes, sir.�
I stood up.� �Follow me.�
I led her down the hall to the guard�s desk facing the front door.� The husky man currently on duty looked up, saw me and spun around in his chair to regard me inquiringly.� He wore the gray uniform of the Fernworks guard staff, incidentally having the same markings as the federal security agency.
�Strap on your weapon, Judd,� I told him, �and come with us.� Maryanne thinks we have an intruder.�
He snatched a holstered pistol from the desk drawer and hung it on his Sam Browne belt.� Shortly we were marching into the mountain, heels clicking down the main aisle between the rows of machines, following Maryanne.� The huge room was unusually quiet.� Karl had released most of Second Shift early.
We proceeded along the central assembly area, skirting the two ships, now free of scaffolding, that waited on their landing struts.� Despite the electrical cables and water hoses looping into them they were hard to see: that is, their edges were hard to locate.� Once again the perfection of their stealthing impressed me.� Reflected sections of the girder-laced ceiling seemed to rotate before us at eye-level as we passed.� The illusion was uncannily perfect.� Apparently the stealth paint reduced scattering in the visual range also, an unexpected bonus.
�God, I can�t get over how they look!� breathed Maryanne, smiling at me in awe.
�Thank you,� I murmured, taking it as a compliment.� �Which one is he?�
Electrical power was distributed to each ship from its own control panel.� Karl had assigned a worker for each to monitor the fluctuations that might signal a failing dick.
�The one on the left,� she said.
�You wait here, Maryanne.� Come on, Judd.�
The man sat at a desk before the bank of meters, an alarm button under his hand.� He was turned away from us, in a position to watch both the meters and the ships.� He craned his neck when he heard us approaching and leapt to his feet, looking wildly around.� He chose a direction and sprang away towards the looming machines of the subassembly area.
�That seals it!� I said.� �Catch him, Judd.�
The guard drew his pistol and worked the slide noisily.� �Halt, you,� he shouted, bringing the weapon up into alignment, �or I�ll open fire!�
This was the Fifties.� In those simpler days no one would question a policeman�s right to kill a fleeing suspect.� Running away was everywhere considered evidence of guilt.� The general sentiment held that if you ran you deserved what you got.
In any case our intruder obeyed.� He came to a halt after the next step and turned around to wait with hands in the air.� As Judd and I closed on him, heads were popping up all around us.� I heard Maryanne�s footsteps behind me.
He was an average sort of fellow, thirtyish with close-cropped dark hair.� The sleeves of Jimpson�s jacket seemed a bit long on him.� His eyes were brown with whites showing.
�Who are you?� I demanded.
�Arthur Jimpson,� he answered immediately.
Joining us, Maryanne declared with conviction, �No, you ain�t.� I used to step out with Arthur.�
This guy didn�t lack for words.� �Must�ve been a different Arthur.�
�That�s not an Appalachian accent,� I noted.
�It shore ain�t,� agreed the guard.
�Who hired you in Fernworks?� I asked.
He licked his lips, only a moment�s hesitation.� He had been told the bosses� names but he was unlucky.� �John Maple.�
The guard grunted and Maryanne sniffed.
I said, �Cuff him, Judd, and take him to my office.�
The guard caught the man�s shoulder and spun him around.� While the handcuffs clicked I asked the woman, �What�s your assignment tonight?�
�I just came off supper break and was reporting to Jerome.�
�That�s right,� said someone behind me.� I looked over my shoulder at Kelliam, my foreman of the single pinkie.� �She told me about the false name,� he added.� �I would�ve sent her to Mr. Haines but he�s down at the dam looking at a generator problem.�
First things first.� �A generator problem?�
�Number three was out of sync again, but I noticed it just came back online.�
�That�s good news,� I said, breathing a sigh of relief.� I grinned at him.� �Our fake Jimpson claims I hired him, but I never saw him before.�
�Well, damn!� exclaimed the miscreant, grinning sheepishly.
I turned to face him.� �I have a question for you.�� He stood straight among us, arms cuffed behind his back.� �What happened to the real Arthur Jimpson?�
�If you think I�ll tell you anything, you�re crazy.�
I put harshness into my voice.� �If you�ve hurt my employee you�ll think I�m crazy!�
�Want us to rough him up?� asked Kelliam.
�Ha!� sneered the intruder.� �It�ll take more than a few hillbillies to make me talk.�
�You think so?� asked Kelliam mildly.� �Two would do it: one to chain you to the rivet press and the other to crush your fingers, one joint at the time.�
I could just imagine that; the hair rose on the back of my neck.� Our intruder only sneered the more.� Perhaps he had never seen a hydraulically operated rivet press.
�I have another way, Jerome,� I told him grimly, �one that leaves no marks.� Judd, take this man to my office and chain him into a straight chair.�
�This way, you,� the guard ordered, clutching the intruder�s arm.� Away they went up the aisle.
I said quietly to Kelliam, �I want you to take five minutes and look the whole place over for other strangers.� It�s possible we have more than one intruder.�
�Yes, sir,� said Kelliam.
�And when Karl gets back, tell him to check in with me, please.�
I jerked my head at the hovering woman.� �Maryanne, come along.�
Walking up the aisle, I considered quickly how to approach this.� �Maryanne, how is it you didn�t go home with the other Second Shift fabricators?�
�I�m the best with the precision mill.�� She grinned unabashedly.� �Mr. Haines wanted me to stay in case we had to mill a replacement socket.�
I nodded.� �A wise precaution.� Meanwhile you have impressed me by your loyalty to the firm.�
�Thank you, sir.�� She regarded me with interest.
After the compliments she had offered to Karl and me last year, I had looked up her record.� She was a widow, now 32, supporting two children and an elderly mother on her Fernworks pay.� Full-figured, she was not a bad looking woman, despite the care lines in her face.
�But I have a problem.�� I chuckled ruefully.� �I have a new drug that will make this intruder spill his guts but no way to get it in him.�
�A hypo?�
I shook my head.� �No syringes.� Too bad we never hired a company nurse, eh?�
�Coffee?�
�He�s heard of other drugs like mine.� I doubt he�ll drink anything we give him.� But this drug has some interesting properties, Maryanne.� It can be tuned to the person.� That is, it can be set to affect one person but not another.�
�Can it?�� Her eyes sparkled and she grinned widely.� �How about I should kiss him?�
I had to stop and stare in awe.� �My god, you�re fast on the uptake!�
�Is that bad?�
�I mean, you�re incredibly intelligent, Maryanne.� What are you doing working here at two dollars an hour?�
�Two-ten.� You gave me a raise last month.�
�I�ll do a lot better than that!� But yes, I expect he�d tolerate a wet kiss from you, if you were left alone with him.�
�Well,� she said thoughtfully, �he�s not nearly as pretty as you and Mr. Haines, but if you want me to kiss him, I will, Mr. Maple.�� Her expression was determined.� �What do I do?�
�Push as much saliva into his mouth as you can.�
�Does it have to be a lot?�
�Actually not.� A taste is probably enough.� This stuff knows how to reinforce itself.�
�All right.� What do I do: chew up a pill first?�
�No, Maryanne.�� I sighed.� �I�m afraid you have to kiss me first.� That�s how I�ll give you the drug.�
Her face blanked.� �Huh?� Then you could kiss him yourself!�
I curled my lip.� �I�d probably have to knock him out first.�
�Oh.�� She giggled, eyebrows rising.� �Listen to me: trying to talk myself out of the chance to kiss you!�
We were outside the door of my office.� I had already executed the DISINHIBITOR program, tuned only for masculine non-Kimball DNA.� A wad of spit filled my cheek like a plug of tobacco.� I took her in my arms.� She smelled womanly, perhaps my favorite odor.� Her mouth met mine openly.� In went the drug.� Her eyes closed but her tongue flirted with mine and I returned the gesture.� God, I do love willing women, and apparently that was the right word for my Maryanne!
But we broke apart.� Her eyes were large.� �Tha�s a lo�!� she murmured through pursed lips.
�Can you hold most of it in your cheek?� I asked.� �You may need to talk to him a little.� The drug won�t affect you if you swallow it.�
Her mouth worked.� �I think I can do it.�
�Good girl!�
I opened the door.� Judd had cuffed the intruder�s ankle to a chair leg and his arms behind the chair back.� I motioned to the guard.� �Come on, let�s get more manacles.� Maryanne, will you keep an eye on our guest?� We�ll return shortly.�
�Yes, sir,� she said distinctly.
I jerked my head at the guard, who followed me out into the hall, leaving the door ajar.� With finger to lips, I caught his arm and stopped both of us to the right of the door, while continuing to make walking sounds with my feet.� He, too, was fast on the uptake.� His feet joined in with mine, even gradually reducing the force to simulate drawing away.� In a moment we were both listening to the voices floating around the doorjamb.
The woman said, �Hey, they�ve left us alone together.�
�So what?�
She chuckled deep in her throat.� �So I can find out if you kiss better�n the real Arthur.�
The prisoner barked a laugh.� �Aren�t you the girl that fingered me?�
�Fingered?� If you�re a good kisser, I�ll do a lot more than finger.�
The ensuing lengthy silence yielded to spitting sounds.� �Guk!� the man exclaimed.� �You call that kissing?�
Still clasping the guard�s arm, I turned us toward the door.� �Come on.�
The intruder was licking his lips, glaring at the woman with a stupefied expression.
She was hovering near, smiling at him smugly.� She said, �You�re a lousy kisser, bo.�
�Do all you hill girls keep a wad of spit in ��� His voice trailed off as his eyes turned toward me.
�Just for Yankees,� she quipped.
I pulled her away from him, slid another chair into her spot and sank into it face-to-face with him.
�What�s your name?� I demanded.
He heaved a sigh.� His mouth worked.
�You have to speak aloud.� Say your name.�
�I � I �� Dillon Walker.�
�For whom do you work?�
Again his lips curled and relaxed.� At last he said, �Don�t work �� �M self-employed.�
�What kind of work do you do?�
�P-private detective.�
I exchanged glances with Judd, who had left a struggling private agency to join Fernworks.
�Who hired you, Walker?�
He took several seconds to form the words, �Gerrymander Inc.�
Which of course was one of Cleaver�s holding companies.� �Very good,� I said encouragingly.� �Now tell me what happened to the real Arthur Jimpson.�
�Nothing.�� Walker�s mouth twisted.� �He�s a sellout.�
�For how much?�
�A C-note,� he said contemptuously.
Behind me Maryanne sniffed and murmured, �Always was cheap!�
Aware of what my next question might elicit, I glanced around at Judd and Maryanne.� �Will you two please wait outside?�
�Maybe we ought to manacle his other leg,� Judd suggested.
I grunted.� �Don�t worry.� He�s not going anywhere.�
�You�re the boss.�� Judd and the woman departed.
�What was your assignment here, Walker?� I asked when the door clicked shut.
�To study the layout, see what�s going on.�
�Did you figure it out?�
He shrugged.� �You�re building some � some kind of big cars.� Or maybe boats.� Weird.�
�Yes, weird.�
�What I can�t figure is how you plan to get �em out of here.�
�Good.� When are you supposed to report?�
�When the shift ends.�
�To whom?�
�Cleaver.�� The words were coming easier to him now, enough for him to volunteer information.
�He�s waiting for you outside?�
�He�s coming in before midnight.� Some other private dicks are waiting.�
�Where?�
�Cars in the parking lot.�
�How do you recognize them?�
�Two blue Ford sedans, brand new.�
I thought a moment.� �Walker, who else came into the plant with you?�
�A � a woman.�
�Under whose nametag?�
�Adele Morris.� She�s one who quit last month, according to Jimpson.� We found a green coat for her at Shicks.�� Not surprising: Shicks was the local clothing store where Rosalind had contracted for the original jackets.
�What�s her real name?�
�I only know her last name: Berman.� She�s from Chicago and a real looker.� Came down last week.�
�Last week?� How long has Cleaver been watching us?�
�Months.� I�ve been down here since July.�
That figured.
�She�s got one of those little German cameras.�
Uh-oh!
�How many times have you people entered the plant?�
�Just tonight.� We got the orders only in time for Second Shift.�
�But you must have been expecting them.�
�Oh, yeah.� Jimpson sold out on you last week.�
�Anybody else in here tonight?�
�Not as far as I know.�
�How many jackets did you people buy?�
�A couple ― three if you count Jimpson�s.�
I thought a moment longer.� �Have you heard anything that Cleaver plans to do to this place?�
�Not me.� I�m a low man on that totem pole.�
Undoubtedly true.� First things first: better round up the woman.� �Walters, I think you�d be more comfortable if you sort of slouched down in that chair.� Take a nap, why don�t you?�
He blinked.� �Okay.� Think I will.�� And he was out like a light.
Impressive, the effect of this DISINHIBITOR.� Its name ought to be something like �INSTANT SLAVERY.�� The counter and antidote to it is called ― you guessed it ― ANTIDISINHIBITOR, programmers being no more imaginative in the 24th Century than the 20th.� I made sure to flood my own body with the ANTIDISINHIBITOR nanobiots.
To my surprise, guard and woman were not waiting in the hall.� I heard voices from the break room and started to put my head in there, only to be brought up short by a husky male voice declaring, �Maryanne, I just realized I�m in love with you.�
Cautiously I looked around the doorjamb.� My guard and erstwhile fabricator were locked in a tight clench beside the coffee pot.� I cleared my throat.� Reluctantly they pulled apart.
�Good gosh a�mighty!� exclaimed Maryanne.� �You can really kiss, Judd.�
Apparently I had not witnessed their first kiss tonight.� I said testily, �We�ve got more trouble.�
Maryanne whirled to face me with a saucy expression and glistening lips.� �If�n you mean me and Judd ―�
�I mean Walters admitted there�s another intruder, a woman.� Where might a woman be working tonight, Maryanne?�
She blinked at me.� �In the suit chamber, I bet.�
�Of course!� I agreed.� Female seamstresses were sealing the last two spacesuits, the ones that fit Alice and me.� Important work!� �Come on, let�s check them out.� She�s supposed to be wearing Adele Morris�s jacket.�
�Adele quit last month to have a baby,� noted Maryanne, hurrying after Judd and myself.� With a gulp and a hand swipe at his mouth the guard had straightened up purposefully.
The suit chamber was in the rear at the end of the huge interior.� The warning sign of a pressure test hung over the door, but I knew suits were being pressurized, not the room.� I opened it and pushed in.� And saw our intruder immediately.
Her eyes locked with mine for an instant.� She looked away in feigned indifference, but a betraying flush graced her pretty cheeks.� I had to laugh.
�Mona, what in the hell are you doing here ― as if I didn�t know?�
She looked from me to the armed guard.� With a shrug she took up her purse and walked out of the lab beside me.� Judd and Maryanne followed us.� Cleaver�s beautiful assistant was dressed tonight as Rosie the Riveter in bandanna, jeans and Fernworks shirt without the logo.� They were tight jeans, reminiscent of thirty years in the future, that accentuated the graceful curves of her thighs and buttocks.� I almost asked her where she had got them.
�Give me your handbag,� I told her as we marched down the aisle toward the shimmering space ships.
�That�s an improper request,� she announced, raising her chin.
I had to chuckle.� �Yes, it is, but not of a trespasser.� Give it here.�
Sighing, she passed it to me.� It contained a compact, lipstick and a tissue pack, about all that the camera, an Exacta single lens reflex, left room for.� Indeed it was a �little German camera� by the standards of the Fifties.� I removed it and returned the purse.� The exposure counter indicated zero.
�Is Cleaver�s confidence in you justified?� I asked.
�Why not?�
Cameras did not yet have built-in light meters.� �Who taught you to use so complicated a camera?�
�I own it,� she explained with a sniff of amusement at my presumption of ignorance, �along with a Hasselblad.� Photography is my hobby,� she added with a cool grin, �though I haven�t yet decided what exposure to use for those mirrors of yours.�� She chuckled slightly.� �Did you know that Cleaver calls them spaceships?� That�s an F1.6 lens and I�m using ASA200 film that I can push to 800.� What do you recommend, Tim?�
Behind me I heard Maryanne laugh incredulously.� �Spaceships?�
Mona said over her shoulder, �They certainly don�t look it, do they!�� I had to admire her coolness.
At that moment we were walking past the two huge assemblies hung about with cables.� Again the ceiling struts seemed to rotate before us as we walked.
�Mirrors on wheels,� noted Mona.� �What will they reflect, Tim?�
I shook my head.� �Sorry, Mona.� I�m afraid you�ve lost the right to ask questions.�
�Oh, surely not!� For example, may I use the bathroom?�
�Not yet.�
�And another: where are you taking me?�
�To my office.�
�You see: it depends on the question.�� She sidled closer, bumping me with arm and hip, lowering her voice to an intimate level.� �That moustache becomes you, Tim.� In your office may I suck your cock?�
The plant was too quiet.� Behind me I heard two incredulous intakes of breath.� I stopped and turned.� My fabricator and guard were staring wide-eyed at Mona.� Maryanne�s lip curled.� To forestall her expected comment I raised the camera and twisted its knobs.� �Let�s try F2 at a fiftieth.�� I pressed the large shutter release, which responded with the satisfying thunk I recalled from the early Exactas.� After advancing the film I adjusted the speed.� �And another at a hundredth.� Those assemblies are well lit.� ASA200 should contrast well at that setting, don�t you think?�� I snapped another shot.
Mona�s eyebrows were raised in surprise when I turned back to her.� �Come on,� I said.
When we entered my office, I surprised her again by clutching the shoulder that had stiffened when she recognized the sleeping Walker, spinning her around and pulling her to me in a slobbery kiss.� At first she resisted but shortly she relaxed against me.� Her lips parted as her arms went around me.� I heard Maryanne gasp again.
After a moment I backed away.� �Wait here, Mona.� You can rest in my big chair if you like.� First I must see to your friends in the parking lot.�
Maryanne suggested, �Let Judd get another set of cuffs.�
�That won�t be necessary.�
I ordered over my shoulder, �Mona, stay here and keep out of trouble.� Take a nap, why don�t you?�
�Y-yes, Tim.�
Maryanne gaped at me.� �You gonna leave her free in here?�
I smiled.� �She won�t go away, will you, Mona?�
�N-no, Tim.�� Her voice was peculiar.� I glanced at her face.� She had the look of a girl who has just taken her first big marijuana hit.� Only this stuff was worse.� She slipped around the desk, dropping her purse atop it.
�And leave the telephones alone.�
�Yes, Tim.�
�B-but ―� protested Maryanne.
�Come with me, Judd.� We�ve got decisions to make.� You too, Maryanne.�
They followed me out, Maryanne looking wide-eyed back over her shoulders.� But Mona had slumped into the captain�s chair and closed her eyes.� With a sudden grin Maryanne cocked an eyebrow back at me.� �I get it.�
�Wish I did,� said the guard, shaking his head.
Maryanne chuckled.� �You did already.�
In the main room I handed him the camera.� �Put this in a drawer of your desk, Judd.� Do we have another guard�s jacket anywhere?�
�Gibson leaves his here.�
�Get it for me please ― and a pistol.�
He went away to the lockers in the adjacent guardroom.� I turned to the woman.� �Do you really want him, Maryanne?�
�Judd�s a good catch,� she said wistfully.
�Not in his present state.� Kiss me again.�
She blinked innocently.� �You mean ―�
�You know what I mean.�� I pulled her against me.� She opened her mouth immediately.� When we parted, I ordered, �Now you kiss him again before we go out that door.�
She drew a breath and said, �Yes, sir,� with evident reluctance.
�Don�t worry.� You�ve already impressed him.� You don�t need that drug in him.� And I don�t either.�
�Oh.� Okay.� Is your name really Tim?�
I had already thought about that question.� �It was when Mona knew me.�
She licked her lips.� Her eyes sparkled.� �I bet she knew you real good.�
I chuckled but said nothing.
Judd returned, bearing a jacket and a belt with holstered pistol suspended.� I slipped into the jacket.� Gibson, I recalled, was a hefty fellow about my size.� Both jacket and belt fit me well.� According to the shield on the breast pocket I was now a special officer by that name.� I raised the pistol, verified its full clip, worked the slide, snapped on the safety and returned it to the holster.
Maryanne and Judd were again in a clench behind me.� I waited, letting her make a thorough job of it, which she did.� When they parted, the man looked at me guiltily and swiped at his mouth.� �I�m s-sorry, Mr. Maple.� I don�t know what ―�
I waived a hand negligently.� �Don�t worry about it.� We�ve got a job to do.�
He straightened attentively, awaiting orders.
�A couple of blue Fords are in the parking lot, each with load of trespassers intent on espionage at least.� They�re private detectives and likely armed, though I doubt they�ve been ordered to shoot anyone.� You and I are going to run them off.� You�ll back me up.� If any shooting begins, take out the tires first.�
He swallowed.� �Yes, sir.�
�Maryanne, you wait here inside.�
�Y-yes, sir.� What should I do if ��� Her voice trailed off.
�We�ll come back, Maryanne.�
�Yes, sir.�
The parking lot was not well lit except near the door.� Tonight relatively few cars were in attendance because most of second shift had been cancelled.� The two cars in question were parked side by side, well apart from the rest.� The lit cigarettes within them attracted immediate attention.
�Not very good detectives,� I commented with a snort.
�Maybe they don�t think we care,� suggested Judd.
�They�re about to find out.�
We started forward but another car came chugging up the road and wheeled without hesitation into the parking slot beside my own car.� When the headlights had veered away, I saw it was Karl and caught Judd�s arm to bid him wait.
Karl had seen us despite the dark gray uniforms, perhaps because of my lighter trousers.� He strolled up to us, peered and demanded, �What�s going on?� Huh!� Is that you, John?�
�We�ve caught two intruders in the plant,� I explained, �and more are sitting in those two cars.� Your choice: come with us or wait inside.�
�I�m not armed.�
�I don�t think we�ll do any shooting.�
�Then I�ll follow along, if you don�t mind.�
We had about 100 yards to go.� As we walked I asked, �What was the cause of the sync problem?�
�I�m not sure.� I suspect number three�s bearings.� We should replace them soon as this crunch is over.�
�I heard it was back on line.�
�Yes.� I feathered the turbine up a notch, but number three is running hot.�
�It needs to last another 20 hours.� Will it?�
�Maybe.� I�ve got a hose playing on the base casting.�
�Knock on wood.�
�On what?� Did you say two intruders?� How did they get in?�
�Easily.� We haven�t taken the possibility seriously.�
Karl thought that over as we closed the remaining distance.� I saw a couple cigarettes arc into the darkness from the car windows ahead and strike the concrete with showers of sparks.
�I�ll do the talking,� I said in a low voice.
We stopped ten feet from the left side of the first car.� Its windows were rolled down despite the cool September evening.� It contained four men.� Beyond it the other car seemed similarly occupied.
I demanded harshly, �What do you guys want?�
For a moment we heard only the gentle breeze and the distant calling of night birds.� The driver of the near car finally answered, �We�re waiting for someone.�
�The shift doesn�t change until midnight.� Please do your waiting off Fernworks property.�
�Where�s the line?�
I pointed towards the road.� �Beyond the last light there.�
The driver thrust out his chin.� �Thought this was a place of business.�� He grinned sarcastically.� �A flower shop.�
�So?�
�So you don�t have a �No Trespassing� sign.�
�It�s after hours and I�m telling you not to trespass.� That�s just as good.�
The man sitting beside the driver leaned toward the window.� �And if we don�t go?�
�Then I�ll arrest you and hold you for the sheriff.� And you can depend on it: Fernworks will press charges.�
�You�ll arrest us?� sniffed the driver and barked a laugh.
The man beside him said, �In fact he can.� Pull out, Harvey.�
�If you say so,� argued the driver, �but we�re eight to three and I doubt the dandy in the back even has a gun.�
�I said pull out.�� The passenger raised his voice.� �You too, Perkins.�
Both car engines started up.� The near driver�s eyes glittered.� �We�ll be back,� he promised before his car leapt ahead.
We stood and watched them depart.� They continued beyond the curve around the hill.
�They probably will, too,� said Judd thoughtfully.
On the way back into the plant Karl asked, �What do they want?�
�We�ll discuss it in my office.� Judd, where can you get some help?�
The guard thought a moment.� �I can call in Gibson and Wilbur, I reckon. �When do you think they�ll come back?�
�Not till after midnight.�� Not until they�ve checked with Cleaver, I did not say.� �Most likely not until tomorrow.�� After all, Cleaver is in his fifties.� �But when they do, they may come in strength.�
�You want me to call the sheriff?�
�No,� I answered without explanation.� �The critical time is tomorrow afternoon and early evening.� Do you know anyone among the other employees who might be willing to help us out?�
�I expect they�ll all help, Mr. Maple.� Fernworks means a lot to us.�
I chuckled wryly.� �Hate to call on my workers to fight.�
�Pate was elected by them crooks in Asheville, not us.� I�m tickled you ain�t gonna call him.�� His eyes stared into mine.� �You springing Jerome made Fernworks a lot of friends in the hills.� I can get fifty or a hundred� ― he pronounced it hunnerd ― �good boys with guns in here by tomorrow afternoon.� And they know how to use �em.�
We had reached the door.� I paused to smile and shake my head.� �I don�t want a war here, Judd, and the man behind those detectives doesn�t either.� But if you can get a sizeable force and keep them in hand� ― I paused for emphasis ― �they�d be welcome.�
He studied me.� �I see what you mean.� Then them detectives would stay back.�
I nodded.� �Right.�� Most of our people had no telephone; Judd would have to go in person.� �See what you can do when you get off duty tonight.�
�Yes, sir.�
I returned Gibson�s jacket and pistol and ducked to verify that seated at his desk, he could see most of the parking lot through the windows.� �Keep an eye out and let me know if any more suspicious cars arrive.� Who�s relieving you?�
�Gibson comes on at eleven.�
�Pass the word to him too.�
�Yes, sir.�
�And give me the key to Walker�s cuffs.� Come on, Karl.� I think you ought to attend Mona�s interrogation.�
�Who?�
�The second intruder.�
Maryanne, hovering nearby, asked, �What about me?�
�Go report to Jerome.� Tell him to call my office if he has anything new.�
�Okay.�� I saw her wink at Judd before she turned away.
As we proceeded to my office, Karl noted, �So you know what they�re doing.�
�Yes.� You�ve seen Clara�s viewers of Cleaver.�� I summarized events tonight in a few words.
Outside my door he said, �You think Cleaver�s men will actually attack us?�
�He�s a determined fellow.� He knows the truth, most of it, and believes it.�
�How did he learn so much, Tim?�
�Mainly because of my mistakes,� I admitted and grinned wryly, �which is a lesson for all of us not to be overconfident with Clara�s powers.�
He followed me into the office and closed the door.� Mona sagged in my captain�s chair, Walker in the straight chair.� Both were unconscious.
Karl�s eyes widened.� �They can�t be asleep!�
�Yes, they can ― under DISINHIBITOR.� Look it up.�
I left him staring up at the ceiling light while I perched myself on the desk before the woman.� �Wake up, Mona, and let�s talk.�
As her eyes fluttered, Karl exploded, �In saliva?� I can believe you kissed her ― mein Gott, was eine Sch�nheit! ― but not the man.�
I chuckled, �Maryanne took care of him for me.�
�Wh-what?� mumbled Mona, blinking.
�Did you have a pleasant nap?�
�Nap?� Nap?�� Briefly she stared at me.� Her eyes swung from the sagging Walker to rest on Karl.
�Mona, this is Carl Haines, plant director for Fernworks.� I suspect you�ve seen his photo.�
She only stared at him.
He bowed in his continental manner and said with a grin, �I am very pleased to meet such a beautiful spy.�
Slowly she produced a smile of her own.� �Thank you.� You�re not so bad yourself.�
He bowed again.� �I have yet to try it.�
She blinked.
I asked, �Try what?�
�Being a beautiful spy.�
�Don�t,� I advised.� �Mona, tell us what were your instructions before entering Fernworks.�
�To notice everything.� Mainly to photograph anything that might be a spaceship.�
�I want to thank you for the camera, by the way.� In the rush I had overlooked the means to make a photographic record.�� That was a lie told to dismay her; in fact Clara would recover a far more detailed record from our cellular memories.
�That�s my camera!� she insisted.
�Not any more.� What did you expect to see here?�
�Triangles on wheels.� You�ve made them into mirrors.�
I looked at Karl significantly.� �Jimpson quit before you applied the finish.�� He nodded in understanding.
�Who gave you this assignment?�
�Cleaver, by telephone.�
�When?�
�This afternoon.�
�The Fernworks jacket was already available for you?�
�Yes.� I�ve been in Baylor several days.�
�Where is Cleaver�s local headquarters?�
She sniffed.� �Not his usual quality.� He�s rented all the rooms at Ma Wellington�s inn.�
�Thank you.�� Fernworks had bought a house in town.� Apparently Cleaver had less permanent intentions.
�What was Walker�s assignment?�
�To back me up and help me get out if you discovered us ― as far as I know.� Cleaver talked to him separately.�
�Does Cleaver have other intruders besides you and Walker?�
�Not that I know of.�� She licked dry lips.� �Tim, did you drug me with your kiss?�
�Yes, of course.� Is it so unpleasant?�
�No � but I feel strange.� I never could resist you anyway.� I�m glad other men can�t do this to me.�
�But they can, with a different instrument.�� I grinned.� �Karl, do you have any questions for her?�
He cleared his throat.� �Just one: do you know if Cleaver plans sabotage?�
�No.�� She shook her head.� �But I don�t think so.� He would like to control your mirrors on wheels, not destroy them.�
�That�s reassuring,� said Karl dryly.
�It shouldn�t be,� she mused.� �He does mean to interfere.�
�How?� I asked.
�Oh.�� She blinked.� �I remembered.� He said if you caught me I should give you a message.�
�Let�s hear it.�
�I�m only supposed to give it to you.�
�Tell us both, Mona.�
She sighed.� �He said if he can�t make a deal with you he�ll make it with the feds.�
After thinking a moment I said, �I know what he wants from me.� What ―�
She interrupted.� �For health stuff as well as Fernworks.�
I nodded.� �But what deal could he offer the government?�
�Disclose everything to them if they let him in on the raid.�
�He�d do that, would he?� How does he think this would get him the �health stuff,� as you call it?�
She shrugged.� �He hopes it�ll come with Fernworks.�
�Well, it won�t.�� I came to a decision quickly.� �Mona, I shall let you and Walker take a message back to Cleaver.�
�You � you will?�
�Listen closely.� Warn him that I know about his man on Eisenhower�s staff, that the NSA appropriation covers some operations that are not disclosed even to the president, and that if he pushes things too far he�ll find himself in quicksand beyond help from anyone.�
She studied me thoughtfully.� �I know how he�ll reply.�
�Tell me.�
�He�ll ask, �What can I offer that interests you?��
�If he asks that, the answer is, �Nothing at present.��
�Harrison controls a lot of resources.� Might some accommodation be reached in the future?�
I thought a moment and said, �I won�t rule it out.�
She took a breath and shook her head.� �You�re just buying time, aren�t you?� Is something about to happen?� How will you get your mirrors out of the hill?�
So the secret of the roof opening was intact, though surely Cleaver would guess it!� Mona herself was bright enough to understand when she thought it over.
I went to my other captive and released his cuffs.� �Wake up, Walker!�� The man sat up, groggily at first, straightening with wide eyes when he saw Mona.� �Both of you get up and take off those green jackets.�
When both Fernworks coats lay on my desk, they stumbled after me down the hall.� At the guard�s desk I produced my car keys.� �Judd, deliver these two directly to Ma Wellington�s front walk, please, and report immediately back here.�
He rose to his feet, studying the captives.� I said, �Mona and Walker, you will obey this guard as if he were I.�
�Yes, sir,� muttered Walker.
Mona sighed.� �When does this drug wear off?�
�In another hour or two.� You�ll be okay.� Now go with the guard.�
* * *
At 0100 with no strangers in the parking lot, Karl bedded down on the cot in his office while I went �home.�� The house in Baylor was equipped with the SS radio so that I could be summoned quickly if needed.� Gibson was on duty and Wilbur scheduled for 0700.� With the help of my computer I went immediately to sleep.
Rising early, I showered and treated myself to a heavy preparatory breakfast at Mel�s Diner.� Today was September 14, 1954, the day before a man would take his first step on the moon if all went well.
The sun was just clearing the eastern peak when I pulled into my spot next to the Fernworks door.� Most workers had been paid through Thursday and told to return on Friday, resulting in a sparsely populated parking lot for a Tuesday morning ― the better to spot Cleaver�s intruders, if any.� But none of the several cars seemed to contain occupants.
Indeed Wilbur was on duty.� He was tall but slim for a guard, younger than the other two, earnest and cautious although slow on the uptake, which I had concluded from a year�s observation.� I stopped at the guard desk.
�Good morning, Wilbur.�
�Morning, sir.� Mr. Haines said to tell you he�s checking on the generators.�
�Thank you.�� My car keys were still in hand.� �Wilbur, take my car and do an airport run, please.� Ann Brown is landing in Charlotte at ten.� You should know her; you�ve picked her up several times, I believe.�
�Yes, sir.�
�And she knows you.� She�s traveling with another woman on Eastern Airlines, arriving from Washington National.� Bring them both back here immediately unless they give you different orders.� You�re to tell them the situation as Gibson relayed it to you.�
�Ann Brown and another woman at ten on Eastern from Washington, tell them the situation.� Yes, sir.�
�You�ve got an hour and a half.� You may need it to park at the airport.� Better take off.� I�ll send Lacey in to mind the store.�
�Yes, sir.�
�And take your pistol in case you need to defend them.�
�But, sir ―�
�Leave it under the seat while you�re in the terminal.� If the cops make trouble about it I�ll take care of it.�
�Okay, sir.�� His reluctance was evident.� His hand dropped to the holstered weapon and he sighed.
�I doubt you�ll actually need it,� I said reassuringly.� �So far our opponent has done nothing felonious.�� I didn�t add anything about the poor likelihood of that lasting.
* * *
Karl reported by telephone that the survival of Generator Three through suppertime was uncertain, adding dryly that he had �knocked on wood.�� I told him to go home, take a nap and return at 1700.� Then I visited the snack bar with a box and stocked both ships with sandwiches, cakes and cokes.� A thorough inspection revealed both ready to travel, except for another six hours of charge time.
I ate lunch with the blind lady in the snack bar and slipped her a $20 tip to compensate for the unannounced loss of business.
�There you are!� cried Lacey, surprising me as I patted the blind woman�s shoulder.
�Who�s covering the front?� I demanded.
�You got an urgent phone call from Wilbur.�
And we were too shorthanded today for her to find a messenger.� I hurried up the hall beside her.� �Did he say what it was about?�
�He can�t find his passengers.�
The man was stuttering with anxiety.� He had met the two women.� After leaving the concourse they went to the luggage area.� Ann�s bag was delayed and he used the time to disclose the situation here.�� Bags in hand at last, they had insisted on stopping at a ladies restroom.� He waited and became concerned when half an hour had passed.� He described the two women and tipped a floormopper to check.� She reported that no one in the restroom matched the description.� �I say, �They gotta be in there!� I been watching that door like a hawk.�� She laughs at me.� �They�s another door around the corner.��
Wilbur concluded that the girls had exited by the other door and become confused.� He instituted a search, checking all the bars and concourse shops and asking attendants to investigate the other restrooms: all in vain.
�Finally I give up and call you.� Ain�t they there, Mr. Haines?�
Under other circumstances I might have reacted with sympathy to the pathos in his voice.� Now I said harshly, �They are not, thanks to you!� Is a public telephone in sight of the door where you left them?�
�Yes, sir.� I can see that door from where I am now.�
�Then give me the number of that telephone.� Sit where you can see the door and hear this telephone ring, but check in with me every fifteen minutes regardless.�
When I hung up the phone, I stood tapping my pencil on the guard desk, wondering what to do next.� Surely the girls wouldn�t wander off on some fool�s errand on this day of all days!� Was Cleaver at the root of their disappearance?� If so, how did he arrange it?� I was reasonably certain that he knew nothing of Ferndep, where Rosalind ― AKA Ann Brown ― had originated, or of our home in Cleveland.� I decided to wait another hour.� Then with heavy reluctance I would have to call Cleaver.