Bert said finally, “Come up with anything today?”
“Not too much, but I’m beginning to get an idea of the magnitude of some of these breakthroughs. They must absolutely scare the men who are making them. You?”
“I’m getting the same feeling. Did you come up against that bit by Arthur C. Clarke about the education machine?”
“No.”
“I’ll tell you about it later.”
Jim came back, grinning. “Old Bugs is hopping. He says he’ll clobber poor Harmon.”
Bert said, “Did you find out anything about Katz and the general?”
“Some. Not much. With phone screens people don’t write much in the way of letters any more, and with the data banks always available they don’t even take much in the way of notes. However…”
“You mean you actually got into Katz’ penthouse?”
Jim grinned at him. “That wasn’t much of a problem.”
“Possibly not for you, but it sure as hell would have been for me. How did you get up that restricted elevator and past the door identity screens?”
“I didn’t,” Jim Hawkins grinned. “Remember Fred Durkin who was with the helio-jets? Well, he’s got a job crop dusting not far from here. Has a personal mini-helio of his own, a two-seater. At any rate, he sat me down, real quiet-like, right on the fancy landscaping job Katz did on his roof.”
Bert appropriated a term out of his friend’s vocabulary. “Holy smokes,” he said. “And nobody spotted you?”
“It was about two in the morning. But that wasn’t it. You know something, Bert? Katz doesn’t live there. Or, at least, not much. The place is deserted.”
Both Jill and Bert Alshuler frowned at him, not understanding.
Jim said, “So I took my time prowling the joint. You know all those books he had there in his study? They were in at least twenty languages. Not just the usual European ones, but such off-beats as Tagalog, Chinese and Arabic, and those books were well used. You know something, Bert? I’ve got a suspicion that Professor Katz already has all this education that you’re still working on.”
Bert Alshuler grunted surprise at that. “What else did you find?”
“Only one thing that makes any difference to us—if it does. A list of names with Ability Quotient ratings.” There was a smirk on his face. “You were pretty well down the list, Bert. Even Jill, here, had a higher rating than yours.” He brought a paper from an inner pocket. “There were several copies. I brought the top sheet of one of them. The full list was pretty long.”
Bert took the list and scowled down at it His name was about sixteenth from the top.
He said, “Did you get anything about the general at all?”
“Not much. I got into his house. He has a place in Lincoln Heights, Greater Washington. I thought he’d be in bed, but he came in with some broad just as I was beginning to look around. I had to hide in a closet and stayed there for something like four hours. Believe me, it was a chore.”
“Save the gory details,” Jill murmured.
Bert said, “Well?”
“They talked some, of course. He was a few sheets in the wind. But you can’t expect him to go over his complete plans, just because I’m so handily located in the closet that I can hear what he said. However, I got the impression that old Bugs and Katz aren’t as buddy-buddy as you and I are, old buddy.”
“How do you mean?”
“I got the feeling that they hang out together because they need each other. Paul has the in with the government and Katz needs it, and Katz has these techniques he’s using on you two, and Paul wants them. But anyway, I got the feeling that old Bugs is about to act, about to lower the boom on the professor.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. Just some of the things he said to the chick. She must be one of his secretaries, or something. Maybe his mistress. It sure as the devil wasn’t his wife.”
Jill looked at Bert, “What in the name of heavens is going on?”
“I don’t know,” Bert said grimly. “Let’s see if we can find out anything.”
He got up and went over to the phone screen. He dialed University Information and said, “What is the position of Professor Leonard Katz on the faculty? What does he teach?”
The robot-like voice said, “Professor Katz is not a member of the faculty of Mid-West University City. He is sometimes a visitor and has been given a permanent office. When the Professor is in residence, it is considered a honor to have him in our midst.”
It took a long moment for Bert to think up the next question. He said, “Where is the Professor permanently based? Where does he teach?”
“That information is not available.”
“What the devil,” Jim said.
Bert Alshuler had the list of names and Ability Quotient ratings in his hand. He traced a finger down the list until he came to Temple Alonzo Woolley.
“Well, there wouldn’t be many of those,” he muttered, dialing Information. He said into the screen, ” I wish to speak to Temple Alonzo Woolley. I do not have his identity number. All I know about him is that he is probably between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five.”
Shortly, a face faded it. It was a young man’s face, intelligent, clean-cut, handsome. He was frowning at this long distance call.
Bert said, “Mr. Wooley, if you don’t mind, could you tell me from where you are speaking?”
“Why, from my study. Who are you?”
“I mean from what town?”
“Why, here in Berkeley University City.”
“I see. You’re participating in Professor Katz’ new teaching project, aren’t you?”
“How did you know? It is supposed to be very restricted.”
“I know,” Bert said sourly. “I’m on it too. It’s evidently not as restricted as we were led to believe. One other question. Are there any other students in Berkeley on it?”
“I don’t know why I should tell you but as a matter of fact, there is. One other. Dorothy Wheeler. Now, just who are you to be asking questions?”
Bert said, “Listen. You look too young to have been in the war.”
“What’s that got to do with it? I wasn’t.”
“Where did you take your Ability Quotient tests?”
“Why, when I applied for university entrance I was informed that my I.Q. was exceptionally high and was offered the chance to compete for special tuition and a scholarship. I made the highest Ability Quotient rating and Professor Katz gave me this opportunity.”
“Oh, you did. And this Dorothy Wheeler was second.”
“Why, yes. But who are you and—”
Bert flicked him off. “You aren’t very good at keeping secrets, friend,” he muttered.
Jill began to say something, but he interrupted her. “Just a minute. Something else occurs to me.”
He traced his finger down the list of names and finally came to Manfred Von Kauzchen.
He said over his shoulder, “What’s the biggest university in that part of Common Europe that used to be Germany?”
“Heidelberg, I suppose,” Jill said.
He dialed International and said, “The University of Heidelberg, Heidelberg, Common Europe.”
A woman’s face faded in and Bert said in atrocious German, “Do you have a student named Manfred Von k’auzchen?”
She did something to one side and in less than a minute was back, full face. “Da. Would you rather speak in English?”
“Yes,” he said thankfully. “May I talk to him, please?”
Moments later, a new face faded in; one of the most Germanic faces Bert Alshuler could ever remember seeing: blonde, blue eyed, square and with that certain aggressiveness that is unmistakably Teutonic.
Bert said in English, “You are acquainted with Professor Leonard Katz?”
The other’s English was almost as poor as Bert’s German, but he said, “Yes, I am acquainted with the Herr Professor.”