Donaldson sighed. He turned away from the tiny sounds of scraping metal and the nodding of Jacob’s bushy head, and walked slowly toward the outer door of the photo lab.
It didn’t really matter. Something was rotten under Mercury. If someone didn’t act soon there wouldn’t be any more Sunships.
A simple tumbler lock for a ridged and slotted key. Nothing could be easier In fact, Jacob could not have helped noticing that Mercury had few modern locks. Electronics required shielding on a planet where the magnetosheath grazed across the bare unprotected surface. It wasn’t very expensive to shield but still someone must have thought such an expenditure ridiculous for locks. Who would want to break into the Inner Photo Lab anyway? And who would know how?
Jacob knew how. But that didn’t appear to be helping. Somehow it didn’t feel right. The tools weren’t speaking to him. He felt no continuity from his hands to the metal.
At this rate it could take all night.
Let me do it.
Jacob gritted his teeth and slowly pulled the rake out of the lock. He laid it down.
Stop personifying, he thought. You’re nothing but a set of asocial habits I’ve put under hypnotic lock for a while. If you keep acting like a separate personality you’ll get us… me into a full-blown schizophrenic state!
Now look who’s personifying.
Jacob smiled.
I shouldn’t be here. I should have stayed home for the full three years and finished my mental house-cleaning in peace and quiet. The behavior patterns I wanted… needed to keep submerged are now needed wide awake, by my job.
Then why not use them?
When this mental arrangement was set up it wasn’t supposed to be rigid. That sort of suppression would really lead to trouble! The amoral, cold-blooded, savant qualities leaked out in a steady stream, though usually under complete control. It had been intended that they be available in an emergency.
The suppression and personification by which he’d reacted to that stream lately may have caused some of his problem. His sinister half was to sleep as he worked off the trauma of Tania… not be severed off at the wrist.
Then let me do it.
Jacob picked another rake and rolled it in his fingers. The light slip of tool steel felt smooth, cool.
Shut up. You’re not a person, just a talent unfortunately linked to a neurosis… like a well-trained singing voice that can only be used while standing naked on a stage.
Fine. Use the talent. The door could be open by now!
Jacob carefully laid his tools down and shuffled forward until his forehead rested against the door. Should I? What if I did flip out on the Sunship? My theory could be wrong. And then there’s that blue flash back at Baja. Can I risk opening up if something’s gone loose inside?
Weak from indecision, he felt the trance begin to fall. With an effort he stopped it, but then, with a mental shrug, allowed it to proceed. At the count of seven a barrier of fear blocked him. It was a familiar barrier. It felt like the edge of a precipice. He consciously brushed it aside and continued down.
At twelve he commanded: This Shall Be Temporary. He felt assent.
The backcount was done in an instant. He opened his eyes. A tingle wandered down the length of his arms and entered his fingers, suspiciously, like a dog returning, sniffing, to an old home.
So far so good, Jacob thought. I feel no less ethical. No less “me.” My hands don’t feel as if they’re controlled by an alien force… only more alive.
The lockpicking tools weren’t cool when he picked them up. They felt warm, like extensions of his hands. The rake slid sensuously into the lock and caressed the tumblers as the torque bar pulled. One after another tiny click telegraphed along the metal. Then the door was open.
“You did it!” Donaldson’s surprise hurt a little. “Of course,” was all he said. It was reassuringly easy to squelch the insulting reply that popped into his mind. So far so good. The genie seemed benign. Jacob swung the door wide and entered.
Filing cabinets lined the left wall of the narrow room. Along the other wall a low table supported a row of photoanalysis machines. At the far end an open door led to the unlit and seldom used chemical darkroom.
Jacob began at one end of the row of filing cabinets, bending to look at labels. Donaldson worked along the bench. It wasn’t long before the chief mechanic said, J’l found them!” He pointed to an open box, next to a viewing machine halfway down the table.
Each spool was held in a padded niche, its sides inscribed with the date and times covered and a code for the instrument that made the recording. At least a dozen niches were empty.
Jacob held several cassettes to the light. Then he turned to Donaldson.
“Someone’s been here first and pilfered every cassette we wanted.”
“Stolen?… But how!”
Jacob shrugged. “Maybe the way we did it, by breaking and entry. Or maybe they had a key. All we know is that the final spool for each recording device is missing.”
They stood for a moment in dark silence.
“Then we haven’t got any proof at all,” Donaldson said.
“Not unless we can track down the missing spools.”
“You mean we should bust into Bubbacub’s rooms too?… I don’t know. If you ask me, those data are burned by now. Why would he keep them around?
“No, I suggest we sneak out of here and let Dr. Kepler or Dr. deSilva discover the fact that they’re missing by themselves. It’s not much but they may see it as slight evidence to support our story.”
Jacob hesitated. Then he nodded.
“Let me see your hands,” Jacob said.
Donaldson presented his palms up. The thin coating of flex-plastic was intact. They were probably safe from chemical and fingerprint tracing, then “Okay,” he said. “Let’s put everything back in its place, as exactly as you can remember it. Don’t disturb anything you haven’t already touched. Then we’ll leave.”
Donaldson turned to comply but then there was a crash as something fell in the Outer Photo Lab. The sound carried, muffled through the door.
The trap Jacob had set by the hall door had gone off. Someone was in the outer lab. Their escape route was blocked!
The two men hurried back into the dim doorway of the darkroom. They made it around the corner of the light-trap maze just as the sound of a metal key scratching at the lock carried across the narrow room.
Jacob heard the door sigh open slowly, over the subjective roar of his own rapid breathing. He patted the pockets of his overalls. Half of his burglar tools were out there, on top of one of the filing cabinets.
Fortunately his dentist’s mirror wasn’t. It was still in his breast-pocket case.
The intruder’s footsteps clicked softly in the room a few feet away. Jacob carefully weighed the hazards against the potential benefits and then slowly eased the mirror out. He knelt and poked the round, shiny working end into the threshold, a few inches above the floor.
Dr. Martine stooped in front of a filing cabinet, sorting through a ring of metal keys. Once, she shot a furtive glance toward the outer door. She looked agitated, though it was hard to tell from the image in the tiny mirror, jiggling on the floor two meters from her feet.
Jacob felt Chief Donaldson leaning over, above and behind him, trying to peek past the doorway. Irritated, he tried to wave the man back, but Donaldson overbalanced instead. His left hand shot out for support and landed on Jacob’s back.