She walked along a broken sidewalk under broken trees, poorly lit by broken lights. She was carrying a case.
She went a block.
The apartment house!
Two security guards in gray before the door. They were holding rifles or riot guns. They were very alert.
The Countess Krak walked straight up to them. They eyed her suspiciously.
She flashed an I.D. folder in their faces. "Officer Maude Trick," she said, in a voice quite unlike her own. "Metropolitan Vice Squad. Those three (bleepches) and their lover-boys get here yet?"
"Yeah," said a tough security man.
"There was trouble at a disco. One left without paying for his pot. I got to interrogate."
"Well, maybe so," said the tough security man. "But I'll have to check on you. This place is under threat and we got orders to shoot to kill. Stand right there."
He went inside.
Suddenly I got her plan! I grabbed the phone and dialled. It answered, "Dingaling, Chase and Ambo. If you want to sue somebody for slipping on their sidewalk or other vital actions, state details and your address when you hear the tone."
An answering machine! They were closed for the night!
How could I phone those security men?
I had the address. If you had the address you could get the phone number. Frantically, I demanded directory service. I identified myself as a Fed and pleaded for the phone number. I kept my eye on the viewer.
The security man came back. "Yeah," he said to the Countess Krak, "your chief said you just stepped out. But maybe I ought to go up with you. Those five young guys looked pretty crazy."
"What sort of a threat is this place under?" said the Countess Krak in her altered voice.
"A foul fiend dressed as a flower seller with brass heels," said the security guard. "We're supposed to shoot on sight. But we'll be on the lookout for anyone else that's suspicious. Our company is known for its efficiency."
"Good for you," said the Countess Krak. "With a menace like that around, I wouldn't think of distracting you. I may be a while. These pot users don't never answer straight."
"Ain't that a fact," said the security guard. "But if I hear anything that sounds strange, I'll be up."
She went in. She got in the elevator. She went up. She got out into a hall.
Another security guard!
He was standing outside the door. "You can't go in there," he said.
She flashed her I.D. "Your man down at the door verified me. Step in and call him if you don't believe it."
"They're raising hell in there," he said. "Sex orgy. But all right. I'll call." He shifted his riot gun and opened the door.
A blast of sound came out. Neo Punk Rock! Passionate cries!
The guard went in. Krak followed. They entered a hall. The living room beyond, was visible through another door.
Directory service gave me the number I needed. I dialled it urgently. If only I could get that phone to ring before the guard made his call, I would be victorious and the Countess Krak dead!
The guard picked his way through the living room. And the picking had to be careful.
The floor was carpeted with writhing, entwined bodies. Cries and groans punctuated the shattering Neo Punk Rock.
The guard's expression was diffident as he stepped over and amongst the writhing bodies.
The phone sat unringing on the table.
My finger was flying on the dial.
The Countess Krak was looking into her pocket. I could not see what the security man was doing. She was getting something out.
I connected with the number!
The Countess Krak was reaching for the inner door. She pitched something into the living room, remained in the hall and closed the door on the scene.
I heard the phone ring in there!
I was in time. He had not yet placed his call.
My phone went live. The Neo Punk Rock was pouring through it with the cries and yells. "Eagle Eye Security," came the voice.
"This is a Fed. For Gods' sakes, that policewoman..."
WHONK!
The sound came through my phone.
A streak of blue appeared around the cracks of the inner door she had closed on the scene.
A BLUEFLASH!
"Hello!" I screamed into the phone.
Only Neo Punk Rock came back. "WHEEEEEEEOOOOOOO!"
The Countess Krak opened the living room door.
The record player was stuck in the last groove, just scratching.
She counted the bodies on the floor, wrinkling her nose in distaste.
The security man was collapsed across the phone taboret, the instrument fallen from his drooping hand. A twinge of fear gripped me. She had heard that phone ring!
She walked over to it. She plucked the instrument from the floor. She put it to her ear!
"Who is this?" she said.
I went into total shock!
I was in direct communication with the Countess Krak!
She was talking to me!
Oh, Gods, my blood pressure went out of my head and splattered all over the ceiling.
I was on the verge of discovery by the deadly Countess Krak!
"Who is this?" she repeated. "I can hear you breathing."
Jesus! I quickly held my breath!
Could she hear my heart beating, too?
Maybe she could trace the call! She was posing as a policewoman. Maybe she would arrest me for vice!
Believe me, it was real terror. I had her on the viewer. She had me on the phone!
I was suddenly terrified that I might start babbling.
A brilliant idea hit me! I should put down the phone and hang up.
I couldn't unlock my arm muscles.
With the violent concentration that comes sometimes in threats to life, I made my muscles work.
I got the instrument down on the cradle and, with superhuman effort, unlocked my fingers.
I sank back, staring at the viewer with glazed eyes. She had almost had me!
What would she do now that she knew I was in New York? What would she do when she realized that it was I who was hounding her?
SHE WOULD KILL ME!
My hands began to shake. The corpse of the yellow-man she had killed back on Voltar was where the viewer should have been. He was staring at me with sightless eyes. He said... No, it was Torpedo. He was saying...
"Wait a minute, Gris," I said. "This is no time to go crazy."
"Who is this?" I said.
"This is Officer Gris of the Voltar Coordinated Information Apparatus, on duty as Section Chief of Section 451, Blito-P3. How are things going?"
"Terrible," I said. "How is Lombar Hisst these days?"
"Oh, he's fine," I said. "Has hunting been good in the Blike Mountains?"
"Only passable. Now that I have become Heller..."
"SHUT UP!" I screamed.
It didn't do any good. Another voice was in the room!
"What in the name of Christ are you shouting about now, Inkswitch?" It was Adora. "You shouldn't be watching TV programs with violence in them if they're going to make you scream."
Usually I hated it when she burst in on me. This time it was welcome. They were home.
She shut the door.
What little sanity I could rally mustered to my aid.
I watched the viewer.
The Countess Krak was searching the apartment, opening cabinets-looking for letters? Papers? Oh, was I glad to have never had anything to do with these women directly! She had apparently found nothing to tell her what she wanted to know.
Then I noticed something absolutely horrible. The gloves! She had drawn on a pair of Zanco SURGICAL GLOVES! She was giving the cuffs a tentative tug as she approached the mass of entwined bodies. Was she going to cut them to pieces? Oh, the poor, helpless victims, lying there unconscious in the pitiless stare of this archfiend! I hushed my breathing. She was speaking.
"My goodness," she muttered, "these primitives certainly can get tangled up on the subject of sex."