Now Wait for Last Year

'Shall I be honest?'

'Yes,' she said. 'You should always be honest.'

'Let me go.'

She looked up at him. Some of the old spirit, the venom that had etched away the fiber of their relationship, glowed in her eyes. But it was vitiated now. Her addiction, plus the sedation had weakened her; the power which she had formerly exerted over him, trapping him and hugging him to her, had gone. Shrugging, she murmured, 'Well I asked you to be honest and I got just that. I guess I should be glad.'

'Will you agree, then? You'll commence litigation?'

Kathy said carefully, 'On one condition. If there's no other woman.'

'There isn't.' He thought of Phyllis Ackerman; that surely didn't count. Even in Kathy's suspicion-haunted world.

'If I find out there is,' she stated, 'I'll fight a divorce; I won't co-operate. You'll never get free from me: that's a promise, too.'

'Then it's agreed.' He felt a great weight slide into the abyss of infinity, leaving him with a merely earthly load, one which I an ordinary human being could bear. Thanks,' he said.

Kathy said. Thank you, Eric, for the antidote. So look what my drug addiction, my years of using drugs, has meant, finally. It's made it possible for you to escape. It did accomplish some good after all.'

For the life of him he could not determine if she meant that sardonically. He decided to inquire about something else. 'When you feel better are you going to resume your job here at TF&D?'

'Eric, I may have something stirring for me. When I was under the drug's influence, back in the past—' she halted, then painfully continued; talking was difficult for her now. 'I mailed an electronic part to Virgil. Back in the mid 1930s. With a note telling him what to do about it and also who I was. So he'd remember me later on. About now, in fact.'

Eric said, 'But—' He broke off.

'Yes?' She managed to fix her attention on him, what he was saying. 'Did I do something wrong? Alter the past and disturb things?'

It was almost impossible, he discovered, to tell her. But she would find out anyhow, as soon as she made inquiries. Virgil would have received no part, because as soon as she left the past the part left, too; Virgil, as a child, had received an empty envelope or nothing at all. He found this mournfully sad.

'What is it?' she was asking laboriously. 'I can tell by your expression – I know you so well – that I did something bad.'

Eric said, 'I'm just surprised. By your ingenuity. Listen.' He crouched down beside her, put his hand on her shoulder. 'Don't count on it making much difference; your job here with Virgil can't basically be improved on and anyhow Virgil is hardly the grateful type.'

'But it was worth a try, don't you think?'

'Yes,' he said, straightening up. He was glad at that point to let it drop.

He said good-by to her, patted her – futilely – once more, and then he made his way to the elevator and from it to Virgil Ackerman's office.

Virgil, glancing up as he entered, cackled, 'I heard you were back, Eric. Sit down and tell me how it is; Kathy looks bad, doesn't she? Hazeltine wasn't—'

'Listen,' Eric said, shutting the door. The two of them were alone. 'Virgil, can you get Molinari here to TF&D?'

'Why?' Birdlike, Virgil regarded him alertly.

Eric told him.

* * *

When he had heard, Virgil said, 'I'll call Gino. I can hint and because we know each other he'll understand on an intuitive level. He'll come. Probably right away; when he acts he goes fast.'

'I'll stay here, then,' Eric decided. 'I won't return to Cheyenne. In fact maybe I'd better go back to the Caesar Hotel and stay with Deg.'

'And take a gun with you,' Virgil said. He picked up the vidphone receiver and said, 'Get me the White House in Cheyenne.' To Eric he said, 'If they've got this line tapped it won't help them; they won't be able to tell what we're talking about.' Into the receiver he said, 'I want to talk to secretary Molinari; this is Virgil Ackerman calling personally.'

Eric sat back and listened. It was going well now, finally. He could take this moment to rest. Become simply a spectator.

From the vidphone a voice, that of the White House switchboard operator, squalled in frantic hysteria, 'Mr Ackerman, is Dr Sweetscent there? We can't locate him and Molinari, Mr Molinari, I mean, is dead, and can't be revived.'

Virgil raised his eyes and confronted Eric.

'I'm on my way,' Eric said. He felt only numb. Nothing more.

'Too late,' Virgil said. 'I'll bet you.'

The operator shrilled, 'Mr Ackerman, he's been dead two hours how; Dr Teagarden can't do anything with him, and—'

'Ask what organ gave out,' Eric said.

The operator heard him. 'His heart. Is that you, Dr Sweet-scent? Dr Teagarden said the aortic artery ruptured—'

'I'll take an artiforg heart with me,' Eric said to Virgil. To the operator at the White House he said, Tell Teagarden to keep his body temp as low as he can; I'm sure he's doing that anyhow.'

There's one good high-speed ship on the roof field,' Virgil said. 'It's the ship we flew to Wash-35 in; it's undoubtedly the best anywhere near here.'

'I'll pick out the heart myself,' Eric decided. 'So I'll go back to my office; why don't you get the ship readied for me?' He was calm at this point. It was either too late or it wasn't. He got there in time or he didn't. Haste, right now, had remote value.

Virgil, as he tapped the vidphone switch for TF&D's switchboard, said, The 2056 you were in is not the one connected to our world.'

'Evidently not,' Eric agreed. And started on the run for the elevator.

THIRTEEN

At the White House roof field Don Festenburg met him, pale and stammering with tension. 'W-where were you, doctor? You didn't notify anybody you were leaving Cheyenne; we thought you were somewhere nearby.' He strode ahead of Eric, toward the field's nearest in-track.

Carrying the boxed artiforg, Eric followed.

At the door of the Secretary's bedroom Teagarden appeared, his face constricted with fatigue. 'Just for the hell of it, where were you, doctor?'

I was trying to end the war, Eric thought. He said merely, 'How cool is he?'

'No appreciable metabolism; don't you think I know how to conduct that aspect of restoration? I've got written instructions here which automatically become operative the moment he's unconscious or dead and can't be revived.' He handed Eric the sheets.

At a glance Eric saw the vital paragraph. No artiforg. Under any circumstances. Even if it were the only chance for Moli-nari's survival.

'Is this binding?' Eric asked.

'We've consulted the Attorney General,' Dr Teagarden said. 'It is. You ought to know; any artiforg in anybody, can only be inserted with written permission in advance.'

'Why does he want it this way?' Eric asked.

'I don't know,' Teagarden said. 'Will you make an attempt to revive him without use of the artiforg heart which I see you brought? That's all we're left with.' His tone dropped with bitterness and defeat. 'With nothing. He complained about his heart before you left; he told you – I heard him – that he thought an artery had ruptured. And you walked out of here.' He stared at Eric.

Eric said, 'That's the trouble with hypochondria. You never know.'

'Well,' Teagarden said with a ragged sigh, 'okay – I didn't realize it either.'

Turning to Don Festenburg, Eric said, 'What about Freneksy? Does he know?'

With a faint, quivering smirk of nervousness Festenburg said, 'Of course.'

'Any reaction from him?'

'Concern.'

'You're not letting any further 'Star ships in here, I assume.'

Festenburg said, 'Doctor, your job is to heal the patient, not to dictate policy.'

'It would help me to heal the patient if I knew that—'