Kneedler had returned to his seat, but now he stood. He said, “All right. There’s a good deal more to it, but it can wait until you’ve satisfied yourselves that Katz is an opportunist and one of the most dangerous men in the country.”
“Well see,” Bert told him. He led the other to the door and ushered him out.
When he returned to the living room, he was thoughtful. Jim Hawkins and Jill Masterson looked up at him. For a moment he paced the floor, fists jammed into jacket pockets.
He turned on them and demanded, “How did you two meet?”
Jim said, “Why, at a faculty party.” He leered at Jill. “It was love at first sight, eh, Sweetie Pie?”
She snorted.
“What were you doing at a faculty party?” Bert said.
His old sidekick was aggrieved. “Holy smokes, I don’t know. I figured I was a minor celebrity because of the war record. After all, I got a Medal of Honor too.”
Bert looked at Jill. “And you?”
She said, “Professor Katz invited me. We had already discussed the project and I was still deciding whether or not I wanted to take him up on it. Why?”
“It’s too much of a coincidence, you and me meeting so easily. Three hundred thousand persons in this university city and the only two students on Katz’ project meet in the first days of the semester. We were meant to meet, but they wanted to disguise the fact. You were introduced to my old buddy, who in turn introduced you to me. All, seemingly, coincidence.”
“But why?” she demanded.
“I don’t know,” he said. He looked out the window. It was dark, “I suppose we had better break it up until morning. If anything develops during the night, call me on your phone.”
“Or, better still, me,” Jim said. “I’m staying here.”
Bert looked at him.
Jim said, “We’re all in this together now. I’m staying near my old buddy, old buddy. Just like old times. A team. Seems to me you could use a man to cover your back.”
Bert came to a quick decision. “Kay,” he said. “Now let’s take a look at where our suites join. It occurs to me that they’ve already used one musher in this game. If they ring in another, you might not be able to call us.”
Jill said, indecision in her voice, ” I… I don’t know if I want to stay here at all. I don’t know if I want to associate with… with you two. I don’t like any of this.” She licked her lower lip nervously.
All right. She was only a kid. She’d never seen anyone shot before. She’d never come in contact with old pros like Bert and Jim. She’d never been exposed to extreme violence before. She was scared, and why not?
Bert said, “Jill, there are too many angles we don’t know about Too many people running around waving guns, and sometimes shooting them. The issues are evidently big, probably bigger than we realize at this stage of the game. I strongly suggest that you stay right next door, with Jim and me on hand, until we’ve been dealt more cards. You don’t have to like us. As you’ve made clear, we’re not particularly likable people. However, at least you can trust us. Among other things, lover boy, here, is in love with you.”
Without waiting for an answer he led the way into one of the bedrooms of his suite. “This must adjoin your place,” he said to Jill.
“I suppose so,” she said grudgingly.
Jim said, “Look, here’s a door. Evidently they can turn both suites into one if the V.I.P. is big enough.” He bent over the keyhole and then straightened, surprise on his face. “Devil! It’s open.” He swung the door free, and, sure enough, Jill’s apartment was on the other side.
Bert Alshuler looked at him indignantly. “Any door is open when you’re around,” he growled.
Chapter Twelve
After they had seen Jill safely to her quarters and checked the place out to be sure nobody was there, Bert Alshuler and Jim Hawkins returned to Suite G. Bert led the way into the dining room.
They sat at the table and Jim took in the menu on the screen. “Holy smokes,” he said in admiration. “The works.” He ordered enough exotic food for three persons and a bottle of vintage champagne.
“That’s all we need,” Bert growled. “To get smashed.” He ordered more moderately himself, conveniently forgetting his steak gorging of yesterday.
Jim ignored him. He said, “Old buddy, how’d you ever fall into this pool of crud and come out spittin’ pearls? Didn’t you have enough of being in the middle of messes in the war?”
“It turned out I was the smartest man in the army, so I was nominated.”
“Smartest man in the army, eh? Never noticed,” Jim said, working the cork out of the bottle of chilled wine. “You sure managed to hide the fact, old buddy. Remember that time in Brisbane those sharpies took away our whole taw with those crooked dice?”
“Shut up,” Bert said. “I’ve got to think.”
“And I’ve got to eat,” Jim said. “As an old hand doughboy, I’m smart enough to grub up on first rate chow when it’s available. Tomorrow well probably be back to hot dogs and beans.”
“Doughboy?”
Jim said cheerfully, “You’re sure not up on current slang, old buddy. The public called us doughboys in the First war, G.I.s in the Second and slobs in the Asian War. By that time they were getting tired of wars and heroes.”
“Shut up,” Bert muttered again.
They spent the night in the bedroom that adjoined Jill Masterson’s suite, their laser pistols on the tables that flanked their twin beds.
Like the old army men that they were, they awoke at dawn and decided not to bother the girl, who undoubtedly was more than ordinarily exhausted and could use the sleep. They had a glum breakfast, this time in the kitchen, Jim again ordering more expensive dishes than he could have possibly eaten. He had been about to order another bottle of champagne, but Bert sent him a sour look and he desisted.
After the meal, Bert led him into the study. Jim looked about and gave a low hiss of a whistle in appreciation of the elaborate layout.
Bert indicated the auto-teacher. “That’s what the whole razzle is about.”
“Looks like an ordinary auto-teacher to me. I took some courses in the army on them. They allow you to go as fast, or as slow as you want. Eliminates sitting around in classes with others who are either too smart or too stupid to go at the same rate you do.”
“Kay. But this is an auto-teacher with a difference. Sit down and watch. Get yourself something to read. You can read? You were a captain?”
“What’s that got to do with being able to read?” Jim said, aggrieved.
Bert went over to his pills and took one of the brown ones and headed back to his seat before the auto-teacher’s screen. He looked down at his watch. As expected, the second hand was crawling. He thought of something and got up again and crossed to where Jim had taken a comfort chair.
“Let’s see what time you’ve got?” he said, taking up the other’s wrist. Once again, as he had suspected, Jim’s second hand was also plodding along at a pace no faster than his own. He grunted satisfaction and returned to his chair.
“Holy… smokes… stop… dashing… around… and… stop… talking… so… fast… I… can hardly… understand… you,” Jim said, drawling it out so slowly as to be irritating.
Bert flicked on the screen and the robot voice said, “Elementary Physics, One and Two.” He pressed the page switch and took up his marking stylus. He sped things up as the brown pill took full effect, and then again, and again.
He didn’t notice his companion coming up behind him, standing there looking over his shoulder, until the other’s voice came dragging out.