Duke parked the stolen car with the lights out and the engine turning over lightly, at just the right spot. He could start up when Nick was a third of the way across, and get him whether he tried to go ahead or duck back.
There was a light down at the corner, but it was dark where the car was parked. It was darker than he thought. Nick would be coming along any minute now. All of Duke’s attention was concentrated on watching for him.
He didn’t hear the two men coming afoot from the opposite direction until they were at the car and one opened a door on either side. One of them was Tony Barria, the other was the Swede.
Tony got in beside him and held the forty-five in his ribs. Duke remembered what a forty-five did to a man. Duke began to sweat. He said, «Listen, Tony, I—»
The gun prodded. «Shut up. Drive north.»
«Tony, I’ll give you—»
Swede, in the back seat, raised the butt of his pistol and brought it down in a short vicious arc.
But it wasn’t until near dawn (in Springfield; not in hell) that the Little Red Devil came running into the main office, grinning triumphantly and lashing his arrow-tipped tail in high glee.
«Just graduated him, Boss,» he chortled. «Just gave him the final lesson. He knows all about murder now. Got kayoed, but he came to before they got to the bay and took it all in while they were putting the cement tub on his feet. You shoulda heard him beg till they had to gag him. But he took it all in; he knows all about it, plenty. Yep, he sure graduated. He sure—»
«Good. You brought him along, of course.»
«Yep,» said the L.R.D. «I brought him along, all right; I sure brought him along…»
DARK INTERLUDE
(in collaboration with Mack Reynolds)
Sheriff Ben Rand’s eyes were grave. He said, «Okay, boy. You feel kind of jittery; that’s natural. But if your story’s straight, don’t worry. Don’t worry about nothing. Everything’ll be all right, boy.»
«It was three hours ago, Sheriff,» Allenby said. «I’m sorry it took me so long to get into town and that I had to wake you up. But Sis was hysterical awhile. I had to try and quiet her down, and then I had trouble starting the jalopy.»
«Don’t worry about waking me up, boy. Being sheriff’s a full-time job. And it ain’t late, anyway; I just happened to turn in early tonight. Now let me get a few things straight. You say your name’s Lou Allenby. That’s a good name in these parts, Allenby. You kin of Rance Allenby, used to run the feed business over in Cooperville? I went to school with Rance… Now about the fella who said he come from the future…»
The Presidor of the Historical Research Department was skeptical to the last. He argued, «I am still of the opinion that the project is not feasible. There are paradoxes involved which present insurmountable—»
Doctr Matthe, the noted physicist, interrupted politely. «Undoubtedly, sir, you are familiar with the Dichotomy?»
The Presidor wasn’t, so he remained silent to indicate that he wanted an explanation.
«Zeno propounded the Dichotomy. He was a Greek philosopher of roughly five hundred years before the ancient prophet whose birth was used by the primitives to mark the beginning of their calendar. The Dichotomy states that it is impossible to cover any given distance. The argument: First, half the distance must be traversed, then half of the remaining distance, and so on. It follows that some portion of the distance to be covered always remains, and therefore motion is impossible.»
«Not analagous,» the Presidor objected. «In the first place, your Greek assumed that any totality composed of an infinite number of parts must, itself, be infinite, whereas we know that an infinite number of elements make up a finite total. Besides—»
Matthe smiled gently and held up a hand. «Please, sir, don’t misunderstand me. I do not deny that today we understand Zeno’s paradox. But believe me, for long centuries the best minds the human race could produce could not explain it.»
The Presidor said tactfully, «I fail to see your point, Doctr Matthe. Please forgive my inadequacy. What possible connection has this Dichotomy of Zeno’s with your projected expedition into the past?»
«I was merely drawing a parallel, sir. Zeno conceived the paradox proving that it was impossible to cover any distance, nor were the ancients able to explain it. But did that prevent them from covering distances? Obviously not. Today, my assistants and I have devised a method to send our young friend here, Jan Obreen, into the distant past. The paradox is immediately pointed out—suppose he should kill an ancestor or otherwise change history? I do not claim to be able to explain how this apparent paradox is overcome in time travel; all I know is that time travel is possible. Undoubtedly, better minds than mine will one day resolve the paradox, but until then we shall continue to utilize time travel, paradox or not.»
Jan Obreen had been sitting, nervously quiet, listening to his distinguished superiors. Now he cleared his throat and said, «I believe the hour has arrived for the experiment.»
The Presidor shrugged his continued disapproval, but dropped the conversation. He let his eyes scan doubtfully the equipment that stood in the corner of the laboratory.
Matthe shot a quick glance at the time piece, then hurried last-minute instructions to his student.
«We’ve been all over this before, Jan, but to sum it up—you should appear approximately in the middle of the so-called twentieth century; exactly where, we don’t know. The language will be Amer-English, which you have studied thoroughly; on that count you should have little difficulty. You will appear in the United States of North America, one of the ancient nations—as they were called—a political division of whose purpose we are not quite sure. One of the designs of your expedition will be to determine why the human race at that time split itself into scores of states, rather than having but one government.
«You will have to adapt yourself to the conditions you find, Jan. Our histories are so vague that we can help you but little in information on what to expect.»
The Presidor put in, «I am extremely pessimistic about this, Obreen, yet you have volunteered and I have no right to interfere. Your most important task is to leave a message that will come down to us; if you are successful, other attempts will be made to still other periods in history. If you fail—»
«He won’t fail,» Matthe said.
The Presidor shook his head and grasped Obreen’s hand in farewell.
Jan Obreen stepped to the equipment and mounted the small platform. He clutched the metal grips on the instrument panel somewhat desperately, hiding to the best of his ability the shrinking inside himself.
The sheriff said, «Well, this fella—you say he told you he came from the future?»
Lou Allenby nodded. «About four thousand years ahead. He said it was the year thirty-two hundred and something, but that it was about four thousand years from now; they’d changed the numbering system meanwhile.»
«And you didn’t figure it was hogwash, boy? From the way you talked, I got the idea that you kind of believed him.»
The other wet his lips. «I kind of believed him,» he said doggedly. «There was something about him; he was different. I don’t mean physically, that he couldn’t pass for being born now, but there was… something different. Kind of, well, like he was at peace with himself; gave the impression that where he came from everybody was. And he was smart, smart as a whip. And he wasn’t crazy, either.»
«And what was he doing back here, boy?» The sheriff’s voice was gently caustic.