The bag flew back into Harse’s hand.
The violet mist thinned and disappeared.
And the man was gone, as utterly and as finally as any chambermaid or driver of a truck.
There was a moment of silence. Mooney stared without belief at the snow sifting down from the bushes that the man had hid in.
Harse looked opaquely at Mooney. ‘It seems,’ he said, ‘that in these slums are many. Dangers?’
Mooney was very quiet on the way back to the hotel. Harse, for once, was not gazing into his viewer. He sat erect and silent beside Mooney, glancing at him from time to time. Mooney did not relish the attention.
The situation had deteriorated.
It deteriorated even more when they entered the lobby of the hotel. The desk clerk called to Mooney.
Mooney hesitated, then said to Harse: ‘You go ahead. I’ll be up in a minute. And listen - don’t forget about my knock.’
Harse inclined his head and strode into the elevator. Mooney sighed.
‘There’s a gentleman to see you, Mr. Mooney,’ the desk clerk said civilly.
Mooney swallowed. ‘A - a gentleman? To see me?’
The clerk nodded towards the writing room. ‘In there, sir. A gentleman who says he knows you.’
Mooney pursed his lips.
In the writing room? Well, that was an advantage. The writing room was off the main lobby; it would give Mooney a chance to peek in before whoever it was could see him. He approached the entrance cautiously...
‘Howard!’ cried an accusing familiar voice behind him.
Mooney turned. A small man with curly red hair was coming out of a door marked ‘Men’.
‘Why - why, Uncle Lester!’ said Mooney. ‘What a p-pleasant surprise!’
Lester, all of five feet tall, wispy red hair surrounding his red plump face, looked up at him belligerently.
‘No doubt!’ he snapped. ‘I’ve been waiting all day, Howard. Took the afternoon off from work to come here. And I wouldn’t have been here at all if I hadn’t seen this.’
He was holding a copy of the paper with Mooney’s picture, behind the pillar of black fog. ‘Your aunt wrapped my lunch in it, Howard. Otherwise I might have missed it. Went right to the hotel. You weren’t there. The doorman helped, though. Found a cab driver. Told me where he’d taken you. Here I am.’
‘That’s nice,’ lied Mooney.
‘No, it isn’t. Howard, what in the world are you up to? Do you know the Monmouth County police are looking for you? Said there was somebody missing. Want to talk to you.’ The little man shook his head angrily. ‘Knew I shouldn’t let you stay at my place. Your aunt warned me, too. Why do you make trouble for me?’
‘Police?’ Mooney asked faintly.
‘At my age! Police coming to the house. Who was that fella who’s missing, Howard? Where did he go? Why doesn’t he go home? His wife’s half crazy. He shouldn’t worry her like that’
Mooney clutched his uncle’s shoulder. ‘Do the police know where I am? You didn’t tell them?’
‘Tell them? How could I tell them? Only I saw your picture while I was eating my sandwich, so I went to the hotel and -’
‘Uncle Lester, listen. What did they come to see you for?’
‘Because I was stupid enough to let you stay in my house, that’s what for,’ Lester said bitterly. ‘Two days ago. Knocking on my door, hardly eight o’clock in the morning. They said there’s a man missing, driving a truck, found the truck empty. Man from the Coast Guard station knows him, saw him picking up a couple of hitchhikers at a bridge someplace, recognized one of the hitchhikers. Said the hitchhiker’d been staying at my house. That’s you, Howard. Don’t lie; he described you. Pudgy, kind of a squinty look in the eyes, dressed like a bum - oh, it was you, all right.’
‘Wait a minute. Nobody knows you’ve come here, right? Not even Auntie?’
‘No, course not. She didn’t see the picture, so how would she know? Would’ve said something if she had. Now come on, Howard, we’ve got to go to the police and -’
‘Uncle Lester!’
The little man paused and looked at him suspiciously. But that was all right; Mooney began to feel confidence flow back into him. It wasn’t all over yet, not by a long shot.
‘Uncle Lester,’ he said, his voice low-pitched and persuasive, ‘I have to ask you a very important question. Think before you answer, please. This is the question: Have you ever belonged to any Communist organization?’
The old man blinked. After a moment, he exploded. ‘Now what are you up to, Howard? You know I never -’
‘Think, Uncle Lester! Please. Way back when you were a boy - anything like that?’
‘Of course not!’
‘You’re sure? Because I’m warning you, Uncle Lester, you’re going to have to take the strictest security check anybody ever took. You’ve stumbled onto something important. You’ll have to prove you can be trusted or - well, I can’t answer for the consequences. You see, this involves -’ he looked around him furtively - ‘Schenectady Project.’
‘Schenec-’
‘Schenectady Project.’ Mooney nodded. ‘You’ve heard of the atom bomb? Uncle Lester, this is bigger!’
‘Bigger than the at-’
‘Bigger. It’s the molecule bomb. There aren’t seventy-five men in the country that know what that so-called driver in the truck was up to, and now you’re one of them.’
Mooney nodded soberly, feeling his power. The old man was hooked, tied and delivered. He could tell by the look in the eyes, by the quivering of the lips. Now was the time to slip the contract in his hand; or, in the present instance, to -
‘I’ll tell you what to do,’ whispered Mooney. ‘Here’s my key. You go up to my room. Don’t knock - we don’t want to attract attention. Walk right in. You’ll see a man there and he’ll explain everything. Understand?’
‘Why - why, sure, Howard. But why don’t you come with me?’
Mooney raised a hand warningly. ‘You might be followed. I’ll have to keep a lookout.’
Five minutes later, when Mooney tapped on the door of the room - three taps, pause, three taps - and cautiously pushed it open, the pale blue mist was just disappearing. Harse was standing angrily in the centre of the room with the jointed metal thing thrust out ominously before him.
And of Uncle Lester, there was no trace at all.
Time passed; and then time was all gone, and it was midnight, nearly the Nexus Point.
In front of the hotel, a drowsy cab-driver gave them an argument. ‘The Public Liberry? Listen, the Liberry ain’t open this time of night. I ought to - Oh, thanks. Hop in.’ He folded the five-dollar bill and put the cab in gear.
Harse said ominously: ‘Liberry, Mooney? Why do you instruct him to take us to the Liberry?’
Mooney whispered: ‘There’s a law against being in the Park at night. We’ll have to sneak in. The Library’s right across the street.’
Harse stared, with his luminous pale eyes. But it was true; there was such a law, for the parks of the city lately had become fields of honour where rival gangs contended with bottle shards and zip guns, where a passerby was odds-on to be mugged.
‘High Command must know this,’ Harse grumbled. ‘Must proceed, they say, to Nexus Point. But then one finds the aboriginals have made laws! Oh, I shall make a report!’
‘Sure you will,’ Mooney soothed; but in his heart, he was prepared to bet heavily against it.
Because he had a new strategy. Clearly he couldn’t get the survival kit from Harse. He had tried that and there was no luck; his arm still tingled as the bellboy’s had, from having seemingly absent-mindedly taken the handle to help Harse. But there was a way.