"Then he's not especially protected."
"Only later on, when his work has been turned over to the Government will he be protected day and night. Kept in an underground laboratory and never let up to the surface. The Government's most valuable research worker. But right now --"
"How will we know him?"
Ryan handed Kastner a sheaf of photographs. "This is Schonerman. All the pictures that survived up to our own time."
Kastner studied the pictures. Schonerman was a small man with horn-rimmed glasses. He smiled feebly at the camera, a thin nervous man with a prominent forehead. His hands were slender, the fingers long and tapered. In one photograph he sat at his desk, a pipe beside him, his thin chest covered by a sleeveless wool sweater. In another he sat with his legs crossed, a tabby cat in his lap, a mug of beer in front of him. An old German enamel mug with hunting scenes and Gothic letters.
"So that's the man who invented the claws. Or did the research work."
"That's the man who worked out the principles for the first workable artificial brain."
"Did he know they were going to use his work to make the claws?"
"Did he know they were going to use his work to make the claws?"
"And then --"
"And then the claws began to manufacture their own varieties and attack Soviets and Westerners alike. The only humans that survived were those at the UN base on Luna. A few dozen million."
"It was a good thing the claws finally turned on each other."
"Schonerman saw the whole development of his work to the last stages. They say he became greatly embittered."
Kastner passed the pictures back. "And you say he's not especially well guarded?"
"Not at this continuum. No more than any other research worker. He's young. In this continuum he's only twenty-five. Remember that."
"Where'll we find him?"
"The Government Project is located in what was once a school house. Most of the work is done on the surface. No big underground development has begun yet. The research workers have barracks about a quarter mile from their labs." Ryan glanced at his watch. "Our best chance is to nab him as he begins work at his bench in the lab."
"Not in the barracks?" .
"The papers are all in the lab. The Government doesn't allow any written work to be taken out. Each worker is searched as he leaves." Ryan touched his coat gingerly. "We have to be careful. Schonerman must not be harmed. We only want his papers."
"We won't use our blasters?"
"No. We don't dare take the chance of injuring him."
"His papers will definitely be at his bench?"
"He's not allowed to remove them for any reason. We know exactly where we'll find what we want. There's only one place the papers can be."
"Their security precautions play right into our hands."
"Exactly," Ryan murmured.
Ryan and Kastner slipped down the hillside, running between the trees. The ground was hard and cold underfoot. They emerged at the edge of the town. A few people were already up, moving slowly along the street. The town had not been bombed. There was no damage, as yet. The windows of the stores had been boarded up and huge arrows pointed to the underground shelters.
"What do they have on?" Kastner said. "Some of them have something on their faces."
"Bacteria masks. Come on." Ryan gripped his blast pistol as he and Kastner made their way through the town. None of the people paid any attention to them.
"Just two more uniformed people," Kastner said.
"Our main hope is surprise. We're inside the wall of defense. The sky is patrolled against Soviet craft. No Soviet agents could be landed here. And in any case, this is a minor research lab, in the center of the United States. There would be no reason for Soviet agents to come here."
"But there will be guards."
"Everything is guarded. All science. All kinds of research work."
The school house loomed up ahead of them. A few men were milling around the doorway. Ryan's heart constricted. Was Schonerman one of them?
The men were going inside, one by one. A guard in helmet and uniform was checking their badges. A few of the men wore bacteria masks, only their eyes visible. Would he recognize Schonerman? What if he wore a mask? Fear gripped Ryan suddenly. In a mask Schonerman would look like anyone else.
Ryan slipped his blast pistol away, motioning Kastner to do the same. His fingers closed over the lining of his coat pocket.
lining of his coat pocket.
"I'm ready," Kastner murmured.
"Wait. We have to wait for him."
They waited. The sun rose, warming the cold sky. More research workers appeared, filing up the path and inside the building. They puffed white clouds of frozen moisture and slapped their hands together. Ryan began to become nervous. One of the guards was watching him and Kastner. If they became suspicious -
A small man in a heavy overcoat and horn-rimmed glasses came up the path, hurrying toward the building.
Ryan tensed. Schonerman! Schonerman flashed his badge to the guard. He stamped his feet and went inside the building, stripping off his mittens. It was over in a second. A brisk young man, hurrying to get to his work. To his papers.
"Come on," Ryan said.
He and Kastner moved forward. Ryan pulled the gas crystals loose from the lining of his pocket. The crystals were cold and hard in his hand. Like diamonds. The guard was watching them coming, his gun alert. His face was set. Studying them. He had never seen them before. Ryan, watching the guard's face, could read his thoughts without trouble.
Ryan and Kastner halted at the doorway. "We're from the FBI," Ryan said calmly.
"Identify yourselves." The guard did not move.
"Here are our credentials," Ryan said. He drew his hand out from his coat pocket. And crushed the gas crystals in his fist.
The guard sagged. His face relaxed. Limply, his body slid to the ground. The gas spread. Kastner stepped through the door, peering around, his eyes bright.
The building was small. Lab benches and equipment stretched out on all sides of them. The workers lay where they had been standing, inert heaps on the floor, their arms and legs out, their mouths open.
"Quick." Ryan passed Kastner, hurrying across the lab. At the far fend of the room Schonerman lay slumped over his bench, his head resting against the metal surface. His glasses had fallen off. His eyes were open, staring. He had taken his papers out of the drawer. The padlock and key were still on the bench. The papers were under his head and between his hands.
Kastner ran to Schonerman and snatched the papers up, stuffing them into his briefcase.
"Get them all!"
"I have them all." Kastner pulled open the drawer. He grabbed the remaining papers in the drawer. "Every one of them."
"Let's go. The gas will dissipate rapidly."
They ran back outside. A few sprawled bodies lay across the entrance, workers who had come into the area.
"Hurry."
They ran through the town, along the single main street. People gaped at them in astonishment. Kastner gasped for breath, holding on tight to his briefcase as he ran. "I'm -- winded."
"Don't stop."
They reached the edge of the town and started up the hillside. Ryan ran between the trees, his body bent forward, not looking back. Some of the workers would be reviving. And other guards would be coming into the area. It would not be long before the alarm would be out.
Behind them a siren whirred into life.
"Here they come." Ryan paused at the top of the hill, waiting for Kastner. Behind them men were swelling rapidly into the street, coming up out of the underground bunkers. More sirens wailed, a dismal echoing sound.