She stood up, facing him steadily, making the task easier for him. Impulsively, he gripped her hand tightly. He had never felt like such a heel in his life.
He told her, “I don’t think we ought to see each other any more. I’m only going to be on Lurion another week, and it would be easier for both of us.”
“Of course, Roy.” Her eyes had the glitter that told of tears just barely being held in check, but there was a surprising curtness in her voice that both pleased and puzzled him. He had feared that she might go to pieces completely at the news that he was “married” but he hadn’t expected her to come up with this sudden reserve of strength.
“Good-by,” he said.
“So long, Roy. And, I’m sorry if I misunderstood things.”
She picked up her notes, smiled bleakly at him, and left. She closed the door quietly behind her. Moving mechanically, Gardner replaced the doorseal, then stared unseeingly at the dirty black streaks against the dingy green of the walls.
It was easier now, he thought. There had been a clean break. When the time came to act, he wouldn’t be entangled in the bands of a personal relationship.
If he could only manage to keep out of her way for the next week.
Suddenly the yellow panel of his indicator band pinged into brightness. Gardner looked at it dazedly for a moment, not understanding.
The yellow could mean only one thing. Damon Archer was on Lurion, the fifth man in the chain. And he was a week ahead of schedule.
Tensely, Gardner took down the khall bottle he now kept on his dresser, and poured himself a drink with quivering hands. If Archer were here, and the indicator band testified that he was, then Lurion’s remaining time could be numbered in hours, not in days.
But why was Archer here so early?
Chapter X
Drink in hand, Gardner walked to the window. He had a fairly good view. He stared out over the city. A garish kaleidoscope of lights and colors greeted his eye, so brilliant that it quite obscured the light of the three tiny moons above.
The instructions engraved on his memory now sprang vividly to life. He could practically hear Karnes intoning, “When all five members of the team have made their duly scheduled arrivals, you shall proceed at once to place the destruction plan into operation. Any delay at this point may result in failure.”
Gardner frowned. “… their duly scheduled arrivals.” But Archer was a week ahead of, schedule. It implied some alteration in the plan. He could not act until…
The visi-screen chimed three times, interrupting his stream of thought. It was the signal for a long-distance communication.
Gardner set his drink down carefully out of the range of the visual pickup and, pulling himself hurriedly together, activated the set.
Colors swirled aimlessly for a moment, a random stream of reds and yellows and blues. Quickly, they coalesced into a face.
It was Smee.
“Yes?” Gardner asked.
The alien operative smiled apologetically. The smile was a little loosened as though Smee had been drinking heavily and lost control of his facial muscles.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you, Mr. Gardner.”
“No… no. What’s on your mind?”
Smee’s eyes were little dark beads. “I suppose you’re aware,” he said, “that your friend has arrived on Lurion?”
“Yes, I know that,” Gardner snapped impatiently. “He got here early. What of it?”
The impatience in Smee’s face was suddenly mirrored by the sharpness of his tones. “Six months is a long time, Mister Gardner. Now that your friend is here, when do we—”
“Soon, Smee. You’ll get the word.”
“When?”
“I’m not sure,” Gardner said. “There may be some last-minute instructions from the home company, and I don’t want to close the deal in haste. Got that?”
Smee sighed heavily. “You’re the boss. But I can’t take much more of this.”
“I know exactly what you mean.”
“Okay, then,” Smee said. “Let’s see that the deal does get closed, Gardner. And let’s not have to wait too long, either.” He broke the contact.
Nerves jangled, Gardner snatched at his drink and took a healthy gulp. Then he turned away, wincing as the fiery drink hit his stomach.
He couldn’t blame Smee at all for being impatient. The little man had been living on Lurion for six months, which was a hellishly long time for anyone, particularly if you were someone waiting patiently for a chance to destroy the planet. Smee’s only thought at this moment had to be that the team was now complete.
It was an understandable attitude. But Gardner couldn’t work that way. For one reason or another, Archer had arrived on Lurion early; and, until Gardner knew the reason for the change in schedule, he couldn’t give the blowup order. For all he knew, Archer was carrying a stay of execution for Lurion. He had to wait till he heard from him.
And then what do I do? Gardner wondered.
If there were no reprieve, it would be up to him at last to give the order to activate the sonic generators.
Gardner finished the drink and set the glass down. Then, acting with methodical precision, he corked the half-full bottle on the table, carried it to the disposal chute, sighed regretfully, and let it drop.
Whatever happened now, he wanted to make sure that he would be sober.
He paced round the room, hands tightly clenched into fists, feeling the frustration of knowing that there was absolutely nothing he could do now but wait. Archer was somewhere on Lurion; Archer knew the name of the hotel where Gardner was registered. Gardner could not contact Archer, it had to be the other way around. Gardner waited.
Fifteen minutes later, the visi-screen emitted a double buzz. Gardner sprang toward it, yanking down the activating switch. He felt coldly apprehensive as he watched the swirling colors take on form and coherence.
The face that appeared was bland, mild, undistinguished and unmemorable in any way. Weak, watery-looking eyes stared outward, not attempting to look straight forward but shying diffidently off to one side. It was Damon Archer. He was smiling uncertainly. His chin was weak, his hair a mousy brown, his lips thin.
“Hello,” he said- in a voice that matched his physical appearance. “I’m Damon Archer.”
“I know.”
“You’re Gardner.”
“That’s right,” Gardner said. “I knew you were here, of course. I suppose you’re getting in touch with me about the matter of your early arrival.”
“Yes, that’s it.”
Gardner frowned suspiciously. The plan called for Archer to be on the planet’s northernmost continent, a good thousand miles from here, but he had made a local call. Something must be very wrong.
“Where are you now?” Gardner asked.
“I’m at the spaceport. I’ve just checked through customs, and—”
“What? But your assignment from the Company specified that—”
“I know, Mr. Gardner,” Archer cut in with uncharacteristic sharpness. “But there’s been a slight alteration in schedule. I’ll have to see you immediately. I want to talk privately with you before we go ahead with anything that’s been planned.”
Gardner tensed. He said, “All right, I suppose. How soon can you be here?”
“Within the hour.”
“I’ll be expecting you,” Gardner said.
About forty-five minutes later, Gardner opened his door in response to a sharp triple knock, and admitted Archer. Archer was taller and a little leaner than Gardner had anticipated, but otherwise the man had a curiously nondescript quality that Gardner found morbidly fascinating. Archer was a blank, a cipher, a nothing.