The Countess Krak shook her head. In Voltarian she muttered, "Well, I hope she got her fill! The slut!" Then she raised her microphone and said in English, "The men are all going away now. They are waving good-bye.
You see them walk up the trail and vanish. They were all very happy. Are you happy?"
"Oh, yes," came the muffled voice of Miss Simmons from the helmet.
"Anything worrying you?"
"I'm nice and lovely dirty with the mud. But my leg feels a little strange."
"You broke it dancing for joy," said the Countess Krak.
"Oh, that's all right, then."
The Countess Krak now took a firm grip on her microphone. She said, "The incident you have just been through is the right one, the correct one, the one that happened. All other memories of that time and place are false and are gone. You have just been through the true one. Do you understand?"
"Yes," said Miss Simmons.
At that instant there were some shouts and car-door slams outside.
Somebody shouted, "Get up there to Apartment 21!"
I tingled! Grafferty!
The Countess Krak said into the microphone, "You will lie there and think of nothing until I come back."
She put down the microphone, stepped out of the bedroom and closed the door behind her. Doctor Kutzbrain was still standing like an awkward statue.
Feet were pounding up the stairs.
The crash of a boot against the apartment door!
Lock flying into fragments, the door smashed open.
Grafferty and three policemen sprang into the room!
Grafferty stared at the immobile Doctor Kutzbrain. "Where's the rape-murder?" he roared.
The Countess Krak had reached the black bag. She hit the dynamo plunger, turning it off. But she drew out a small object that looked like a thumbtack. I caught the briefest glimpse of the tag on it.
Doctor Kutzbrain went into motion, drawing all eyes.
The Countess Krak stepped across the room to him. She had that tack held in her fingers. She grabbed Kutzbrain by the shoulder with that same hand. At the instant of contact, Kutzbrain let out a yell.
Krak said, "If it's a rapist you're looking for, here's your man!" She stood away.
Grafferty shouted at Kutzbrain, "Where's the murder?"
Doctor Kutzbrain inhaled a lung full of air. He shouted, "I hate you! I'll tear you to bits! Answer me!"
Oh, Gods, that (bleeped) Krak had used an interrogator dart on him, the one that made a questioner so furious and overwrought he could not ask sensible questions!
Grafferty waved a gun. He roared, "Who the hell do you think you are, talking to police that way?"
Kutzbrain shouted, "You must answer up! I'll kill you if you don't! I'll tear you to bits!"
Grafferty signalled to two policemen. "Take him along, men. And bring this girl as a material witness. And you," he said to the third cop, "look around here and make sure there isn't a corpse in one of these rooms. We need evidence!"
Krak said, "I've got the evidence. It's right here!"
She reached into the black case and tore four tabs off the black roll.
She reached out her hand to Grafferty and the cops, using a magician's forcer gesture, the way they make people feel they have to grab something.
They each took a tab, looking at it.
The Countess Krak pushed the dynamo plunger.
Grafferty and the three cops went into rigid statue stances!
So did Kutzbrain!!
Krak went over and closed the apartment door and put the chain on it.
She stood back and inspected the five statues. They were unseeing, paralyzed into awkward stances.
The Countess Krak went back into the bedroom.
She neatly covered up the naked body of Miss Simmons again. She picked up the microphone and sat down in the chair.
Miss Simmons was sprawled out, relaxed and smiling under the helmet.
"Now," said the Countess Krak, "we will take up how you really feel about Wister. You know you are not good enough for him. But you are eternally grateful to him for not having you himself but letting you be raped. Your gratitude amounts to the worship you would give a saint and you know you would defile him if he so much as touched your body parts. You understand that, don't you?"
"Yes," said Miss Simmons.
"Therefore," said the Countess Krak, "the very next time he comes to class, you will tell him that he has been such a good student you are passing him with the highest grade for the whole remainder of the course. You will tell
him that he does not have to attend your class further, does not have to take any examinations for Nature Appreciation, that he is unconditionally complete, and you will mark your records accordingly so there is no slip-up. Have you got that?"
"Yes."
"You will also tell other teachers what a fine student he has been and will believe it yourself. Got that?"
"Yes."
"At the very next class he attends, you will promptly send him away. You will never have to see him again. Isn't that nice?"
"Very nice."
The Countess Krak fingered the mike. Then she took a deep breath. She said, "After you have sent Wister away, you can please yourself. It will be your life that you are living and I have no wish to take control of it, but I want to give you some very sound advice. Stop running around with this Krafft-Ebing fellow. He and his pals Havelock Ellis and Sigmund Freud are a crummy crowd. My suggestion to you is that you find a nice young man-NOT Wister-and get married. It's your life, but you should consider settling down and doing things in a more normal way."
"A normal way," muttered Simmons.
"Exactly," said the Countess Krak. "You'll find it is much more fun."
"More fun," muttered Simmons.
"Sex without love," said the Countess Krak, "is a waste of time. Do you understand?"
"Waste of time," said Simmons.
"Good," said the Countess Krak. "Are you confused or worried about anything?"
"Oh, no!"
"Good. You will now forget I have ever been here. When I remove the helmet you will go quietly to bed without leaving this room. You will ignore anything you hear or see until tomorrow. You will have a nice night's sleep. You will awake fully tomorrow to a new world. Anything you find or that happens in this apartment or the living room tomorrow you will disregard, invent a reasonable explanation for and will refuse to be troubled about. Okay?"
"Okay," said Miss Simmons.
The Countess Krak turned off the helmet and removed it. Miss Simmons promptly crawled under the bedcovers and was instantly asleep.
I flinched now as the Countess Krak went out of the bedroom and closed the door behind her. I knew what I would do: kill the witnesses. My only question was how she would do it. I was losing allies right and left and could only sit there in that closet, trapped, and watch, powerless to prevent the inexorable, crushing wheels of Fate.
Police Inspector Grafferty was standing in a silly pose, immobile, staring at his hand. The three policemen remained in different stages of arrest, one looking at the ceiling, another at the floor, the third twisted halfway round, staring blankly at his chief.
Kutzbrain had his mouth open, stopped in mid-flight of overwrought fury.
The Countess walked up to Kutzbrain and recovered her dart. She put it in the black container.
Then she went to each policeman, took his gun away, unloaded it, took his spare shells and dumped them in the shopping bag. She put their guns back in their holsters. She pried Grafferty's from his fingers and did the same and then holstered it for him. How had she learned to do that? I was puzzled until I recalled that Bang-Bang was always around the office. What had that mad car-bomber been teaching her? Goose pimples broke out on my arms despite the closet heat. I did not like this! What would she do now? Something diabolical, I was certain.