He stood up, his expression exalted. “They are listening to me! They hear me! We shall have a peaceful and united world. Violence will die. Man will live with man in peace and security. This house is the nerve center of an international network. There is talk of my being president. I shall not settle for that. I shall be President of the United and Federated States of the World!” His voice softened. “Do you blame me for using every known weapon at my command, and a few ones new to this world to bring that about?”
“You are a witch or a madman, Means.”
The rich voice spoke so softly that Jeff had to lean forward in order to hear. “Are you quite, quite certain which one of us is mad, my son?”
Jeff’s mind seemed to separate into two distinct parts. In the coldly objective portion he saw to his disgust and quasi-horror that he was weeping, that Borden Means stood by his chair, his hand resting, warm and steady, on Jeff’s shoulder.
And, through his tears, he said an odd thing. He said brokenly, “If all that is true, then you are not the man I’ve investigated. There are two of you, two of you...”
The pressure left his shoulder. He looked up quickly. For a fraction of a second Means’ face was as cold and empty as a rifled tomb. It was a face so dead that it made death itself seem like a quieter form of life. The shocking impact of it turned Jeff’s brain to coldest stone.
And the look was gone as quickly as it had come. But it left behind, in Jeff’s mind, a knowledge of danger more acute than any he had ever faced. For the face he had seen was as merciless as the emptiness of extra-galactic space.
“You are troubled, my son,” Means said.
And now he could sense the ominousness of those words. It was like being forced to run across an unknown swamp. A hummock directly ahead might be safe, or it might let him down into the blackness.
“I feel... as though this has all been a bad dream.”
“Of course it has, Jeff.”
“I want you to forgive me.”
“For what? For being skeptical? That is one of the privileges of youth, I believe. I would admire you less, Jeff, if you hadn’t been uncertain of my motives. We could use you, you know. You have a... remarkable intelligence.” And for a tiny moment the teeth had shown again.
“I would like to think it over, Mr. Means.”
“Of course.”
Jeff stood up, and he hoped that his smile was convincing. “Could I see Julie?”
He went to the desk and pressed a button set into the edge. A far door opened. A blond young man came in and stood waiting respectfully. He looked to be a brother of the girl who had approached Jeff in the lower hallway. His eyes, too, were of that aqua shade.
“Mike, could you send Julie O’Reilly in?”
“Camera too, sir?”
“Not this time, Mike.”
Julie came in a few moments later. She wore a sweater and skirt. She looked not over fifteen. “Hi there, Jeff,” she said casually, “Nice to see you again.”
Jeff was looking into Julie’s eyes when Means said, jovially, “Jeff is considering joining the organization, Julie.”
Jeff saw the odd expression flit across her face. The fear-widening of her eyes and compression of her lips. “That would be fine,” she said, “you’ll get a kick out of it, Jeff. We could have as much fun as we did when we wrote up Lucas Washington.”
The warning was clever, and clear. It was one of Lucas Washington’s men who, while the article was in progress, had put Jeff in the Racine hospital with one of the worst physical beatings he had ever taken.
“Well, Mr. Means told me I could think it over.”
“Like to see you aboard, Cap’n,” Julie said. She looked at her watch. “Mr. Means, I was going to head into town for some supplies. Would it be all right if Jeff took me in?”
“Of course, my dear. How did the shots come out?”
“A little disappointing. There’s one good one though. You on that roan stallion.”
Means sighed. “There are so many peoples of this world who demand that their heroes arrive on horseback. Tell Mike to bring the proof in on your way out.”
“Ready, Jeff?” she said.
They went out together. Julie paused in the hall to give Mike the instructions. She kept up a bright line of chatter all the way down to the rented car. As soon as they had driven out the gate she began to tremble visibly.
“What is it? What’s the matter?”
Her teeth chattered as she spoke. “R-r-reaction, probably. Keep driving. Find some place we can turn off and park the car out of sight, J-J-Jeff.”
Within five minutes he found a side road. It wandered over hard-pan to a clump of live oaks beside a dry arroyo. He pulled on the parking brake and cut the motor. She came quickly into his arms. The tears came. He smoothed the chestnut hair and murmured to her and let her cry herself out. It did not take long. He gave her his handkerchief. Soon she sat up, dug a mirror out of her purse and looked at herself.
“I’m a mess,” she said.
“Sure. And I’ve missed you like I’d miss both arms and legs.”
“Mean it?”
“So you can smile, eh?”
“Oh, Jeff, how right you were! How desperately and incredibly right!”
“Can we take it from the beginning?”
“I was sore at you. What you said about being responsible for me. I know why you said that now. But I didn’t, then. I went out to work there for Mr. Means. I have a lovely room. Nobody bothers me. All the money I want for special equipment. I worked hard, trying to forget you. You know how I can get so wound up in a thing that I forget everything?”
“I remember, darling.”
“It’s so good to hear you say that again. It started when I was trying to get a picture for the cover of that biography. It was important. It had to have just the right flavor. Not arty at all. Honest. Lincolnesque. Humble and proud at the same time. I took a hundred shots. None of them were right. I took a second batch. It was midmorning a month ago. One of the shots came out just right. I didn’t think. I went running to his room with it. It was still damp. I didn’t knock or anything. I just piled right in. He was sitting by the desk, bolt upright. I started to gabble about the picture and I didn’t notice at first. Then I saw his face. Jeff, it was empty, empty, empty. Dead. Dead forever, since the beginning of time. He wasn’t breathing. A little spider had made a web from his ear lobe to his shoulder. I backed toward the door, the back of my hand to my mouth. I guess I was going to scream the moment I got into the hall. And suddenly he came to life, and he was himself. It frightened the pie out of me. But somehow I managed to keep a grip on myself. It was just as though he were a windup toy. I don’t think he noticed anything.”
Jeff exhaled noisily. “A robot! By God, a robot!”
“I thought I was going crazy. I began to wonder that too. So I began to watch him. Do robots eat? Do they breathe out warm air? Do they smoke cigars? Does a robot’s stomach rumble sometimes? No, Jeff. It’s something worse than that. Worse!”
“What’s worse than that?”
Her voice was almost a whisper. “The walking dead, Jeff. He’s dead and somehow they use him.”
“They?”
“Those people. The blond ones. Two men and two women. They said they were distantly related. That was to explain the funny eye color. They’re running him, Jeff. Mike and Paul the two men call themselves. I can hardly tell them apart. The two women call themselves Laura and Elaine. Laura is the taller one, the one we saw at the apartment. Elaine probably took you upstairs to his room back there. Jeff, they’re not people. Not as we know people. I don’t know what they are. I’d never have noticed anything funny if I hadn’t seen Mr. Means looking dead. I started being more observant then. And I’m really frightened. Terribly frightened. They can do — odd things.”