Part 4

Empathy had saved him. It had collapsed the difference between one person and another to nothing--zero. It had changed more than his face to match the subject identity. To the tips of his fingers he was now Soleri. The change hadn’t been made all at once; perhaps it had taken a week to reach completion. But here he was, safely Soleri--or trapped in the other identity. For the moment he preferred to think of it as safety.

“There are other tests,” he said to Frescura. “I’ll take them all, including the empathy index.”

Frescura stirred dully. “It will be zero point ninety-five,” he said.

“Don’t bait him,” said Taft sharply. “He made a mistake, granted. He accused you unjustly. But you must remember that you attacked a project he has devoted his life to. He’s emotionally upset. What he did was understandable.”

Frescura’s eyes roamed across the ceiling. “I couldn’t let you stop me,” he whispered.

Taft grasped his shoulder encouragingly. “Nothing will stop us. We’re going to the stars--no matter what it costs. However, you’ve been working too hard. I’ll send my doctor to you. He’s strict about some things but he’s the best. He’ll get you back in shape.”

Taft turned to Talbot. “As for you, I don’t like memory lapses, even in minor matters. I want you to promise me you’ll see my doctor after he gets through with Frescura.”

“I’ll be glad to,” Talbot said, without animosity. “I’ve been wondering what to do.”

Taft swung back to Frescura. By some personal miracle the man had pulled himself together again. He was alert and forceful. Taft regarded him with approval.

“That’s better. Go home and rest. Don’t work today.”

“You’re right,” Frescura said. “I should do that. I’ll have to drop by the lab and tell the boys I won’t be in for a few days.”

“Evan will tell them. We’ll call a cab and get you on your way. Don’t worry about anything. The project will be continued.”

They waited until Frescura left in an aircab. Taft got up, shaking his head bewilderedly. “Well, I’ll go too. Don’t forget that call tonight.”

“I won’t. I’ll be sure and call her.”

“Good.” Taft wiped his forehead. “This has been a hassle. We have them occasionally but I’ve never seen one to equal this.” Still shaking his head he went away.

Talbot leaned back and closed his eyes. He had achieved a victory that was far from superficial and it gave him a feeling of personal solidity. He was Soleri and he was going to be Soleri and nobody would ever know the difference.

But the rest didn’t make sense.

Both Taft and Frescura were now beyond suspicion. He had nothing to go on--nothing at all. He’d have to re-examine the whole problem from the beginning. Somewhere within the plant was a criminal conspirator who didn’t want TRANSPORTATION to develop the perfect rocket motor. He was still there. He had killed once, and he wouldn’t hesitate to kill again.

Why? If he could put his finger on the man’s motivating impulse he could track him down with little trouble. Somehow it seemed to go far beyond ordinary commercial rivalry.

Talbot heard a sound at his elbow and opened his eyes. Randy was standing beside the desk.

“Sleeping?” she asked, smiling at him.

“No, just thinking,” he said.

She leaned toward him. “Think about this then. I want to leave early.”

He stared at her, puzzled. “No. There’s work to do.”

“But there isn’t,” she assured him. “I ought to know.”

He realized then that she wanted him to know that she had listened to most of the conversation. Probably she’d read the note from plant protection. Talbot thought of the call he’d have to make later. He had no desire to make her listen to that too.

“All right,” he said. “I guess you know by now that I can’t play the stern employer when you look at me like that.”

She smiled at him, turned and went out.

He remained in his office thinking throughout the afternoon. He went home late--and alone.

VII

In a dim corner of the apartment Talbot fingered a picture of Eleanor. Soleri’s taste in women closely paralleled his own. From a distance Eleanor could be mistaken for Laura. She was a trifle prettier perhaps, more lighthearted and whimsical, and more used to having her own way.

He didn’t want to put through a long-distance call to her. He was entangled enough as it was with Randy, the three-cornered struggle between himself, Taft and Frescura and the unknown obstructionist in the plant, not to mention the perfectly efficient rocket motor that was never going to be built.

He laid the picture face downwards on his desk, and went to the screen. But he didn’t call Eleanor Taft in her South African home. He called Randy.

She answered in a charming state of dishabille. “Is this the way you always come to the screen?” he asked.

“I knew it was you,” she replied. “I’m only surprised that you didn’t call sooner.”

“Put some clothes on,” he said.

“Don’t you like it? Or are you asking me to come over?”

“I like it,” he said. “But don’t come over. Not yet. I want some information. Precisely what did you do this afternoon?”

She made a face. “It was awful. Candidly I thought I’d stumbled into an old fashioned mental institution. I never would have believed I was eavesdropping on a high-level conference between the three top minds in the biggest corporation in the system.”

“We’re human too,” he said gloomily. “At least I think we are. What I meant was: What did you do when Frescura came out of my office and Taft went in?”

“Do you want a detailed report?”

“Yes--all of it. Exactly as it happened.”

“Well, Frescura came out and talked to Taft for a moment. Taft went in to see you, and Frescura wanted some information from another office. He sent me to get it. When I came back he handed me the folder and told me to take it to plant protection. He said to wait there for results and bring it back as soon as I could.”

“Is that all?”

“That’s all.”

“Good,” Talbot said. “Put on your clothes and come over.”

“I’m glad you changed your mind.”

“So am I. But I won’t be home when you get here. I may not be back until quite late. Whatever you do, don’t leave the apartment until I return. Promise?”

“What choice do you give me? I’ll wait.”

He cut off the screen and reached for a jacket. With methodical persistence he went through Soleri’s possessions until he found a gun. He had expected to find one. He checked it swiftly to make sure that it was loaded and in working condition. It was. He pocketed it with satisfaction and called a cab. He had to hurry.

He saw from the air that the entire plant was dark except for a light in one of the offices. Even from a distance he thought he could tell which office it was. The cab landed, and he got out. There was a guard at the office entrance. He questioned the man quickly, and thoroughly.

The plant was closed down tight. All of the other gates were securely locked and would remain closed until morning. The guard hadn’t seen anyone leave or enter the building. He didn’t know whether or not the office was occupied but it was reasonable to suppose that someone might be working late. Talbot stood back and looked. The light wasn’t visible from the corridor entrance.

Talbot told the guard to stop anyone who came out. He went in and made a tour of the offices. They were all dark. The man in the lighted office had apparently heard Talbot enter the building and had left ahead of him.

Talbot moved warily into the main shop. It was huge, cavernous and dim. He would not have been able to see at all except for the luminous strip which edged the aisles. Shadows loomed on the walls and ceiling and it would have been a simple matter for an intruder to conceal himself behind one of the machines.

He went on. None of the laboratories were lighted. Back and forth across the plant he went, always sure there was a man just ahead of him he could never quite overtake. He turned and had begun to retrace his route when a light snapped on in the middle section of the building. He felt the gun in his pocket and walked to the edge of the circle of light.

Frescura was standing completely motionless behind a machine, his head inclined. He looked up abruptly as Talbot approached. “I knew you would come back,” said Talbot.

“I did,” acknowledged Frescura.

“You lied this afternoon,” Talbot said. “Randy didn’t ‘accidentally’ touch the button which enabled you to hear what I was saying. She wasn’t there. You sent her away so that you could listen.”

Frescura smiled and said nothing.

“You figured out what I was going to recommend to Taft. But you wanted to be sure. Another thing, I didn’t slip. You knew from the beginning or you would never have thought of the fingerprint subterfuge. You had to be the one who rolled in the bomb.”

“Of course,” said Frescura. “Soleri confided to only two people that he was going to bring you in--myself and Randy. If Soleri had survived he would have remembered that. Therefore I guessed the truth instantly. I knew what you were capable of. That’s why I tried to get rid of both you, and Soleri.”

“You must have sweated while I was in the hospital,” said Talbot. “It’s a good thing Randy was watching over me.”

“It was a good thing for you that I was nervous,” said Frescura. “Later, when you got well and didn’t say anything I knew exactly what had happened. I thought I could handle you.”

“That was your biggest mistake. I caused all sorts of trouble. But why did you have to get rid of anyone? Was it because you were close to success? Or because you wanted the discovery for yourself when the company failed?”

“You’re still thinking in terms of money,” said Frescura. “There are things of far greater importance. The discovery was mine. It was mine from the very beginning. I did all the fundamental work. After the first year I could have built a motor that would drive a ship near the speed of light.”

Talbot leaned back. “And you still asked for more money, pouring it endlessly into non-existent research? I’ll admit that you could have led us astray--if anybody could. But why?”

“I wanted to be absolutely successful in establishing a conviction that the motor could never be built,” said Frescura. “It was a problem in business psychology. I bought shares in the largest company in existence. I had influence, and I persuaded them to spend impossible sums under the direction of the foremost scientist in the field--myself. If that combination couldn’t build the motor no one else would ever try.”

“What did you have to gain?” said Talbot.

“Why don’t you ask me what I had to lose,” countered Frescura. “That engine would take us to the stars. Mankind isn’t ready for it.”

“There’s something to what you say,” conceded Talbot. “Maybe we’re not ready. I’m not a judge. But you’re a scientist. Nearly everyone in your family has been a distinguished scientist for generations. Surely _you_ should know that man is never fully ready for any new discovery.”

“I am aware of my family’s collective guilt,” said Frescura. “But no Frescura will ever again be instrumental in leading mankind to the verge of destruction.”

“That’s not an enlightening or entirely sane explanation,” said Talbot.

“To you, perhaps not,” said Frescura. “To me it is. Both of my grandfathers worked on the atom bomb. It has haunted us--”

Talbot’s hand moved toward the gun in his pocket. “I see,” he said. “It might haunt some people. However that disaster was prevented, just as your insane little scheme will be. You’ve failed.”

“You’re mistaken,” said Frescura. “This afternoon I knew you’d begin to suspect me. I left deliberately, making sure you would see me go. But I came back.”

“So did I,” said Talbot. “You failed.”

“I hardly think you’ll shoot me,” said Frescura.

“I will if I have to. You left notes. Other men will make good use of them now that they know you’ve been guilty of sabotage and murder.”

“My notes will be quite useless to them,” said Frescura with a melancholy smile. “I told you I was far ahead of everyone else in the field.”

The gun came out of Talbot’s pocket. He was sweating. “There are times when everyone feels that the human race isn’t worth blowing to hell,” he said. “You’ll feel differently after psychology. Let’s go.”

“I can’t. My foot’s caught, and I’m in great pain. I turned on the light to prevent you from plugging away at me in the darkness.” He was staring intently at Talbot’s weapon. “I don’t have a gun. You will have to help me.”

Talbot had no intention of moving any closer to Frescura’s powerful arms. “You’ll have to free yourself,” he said. “Your foot will slip out of the shoe.”

“I’ll try.” Frescura leaned on the machine and strained. His leg swung free. There was an odd rattling sound. Talbot glanced down--and froze. Scores of black spheres were rolling across the floor in all directions. Thermal capsules! Frescura had quite obviously been lying about the injury to his leg. He had resorted to the subterfuge to distract Talbot’s attention while he overturned a small box at the base of the machine with a swift carefully timed kick.

Talbot glanced up. Frescura had leapt back into the shadows, and was crouching behind the machines, his bulk only faintly visible in the dim light.

“Can you find all of them in this light--in the time you have left?” he taunted. “What would you do with them if you succeeded?”

Talbot raised his gun and sent a shot crashing into the shadows in the general direction of the voice. As the dim subsided he called out, “The next one will be you! Start toward the front.”

There was a mocking laugh from another direction. “I don’t think I will. But you’d better hurry, Talbot.”

He didn’t stop to argue. The shop would be an inferno when the covering of the capsules disintegrated.

The shop was long, but it took him scarcely an instant to reach the office building. The two structures were connected, but there was a massive firewall between them. Talbot was thankful for the wall’s protection.

At the corridor near the outside entrance he tried to turn too quickly and went sprawling into a side passageway. He cursed the panic which had caused him to stumble. It wasn’t entirely physical. His knees had simply buckled and he couldn’t control his actions as he slammed into the wall and fell. He was trying to get up when the thermal concussion hit him.

The superheated air expanded violently and hurled him flat again. In the shop steel and concrete had been instantly vaporized near each sphere. But the firewall at the office held. It took up most of the shock before it crumbled, and the sprinklers switched on.

Talbot became suddenly and violently ill. It was partly a nervous reaction, partly a physical one. The guard from the outside came by, running toward the explosion. He didn’t see Talbot lying stretched out on the floor in the side corridor.

Talbot staggered to his feet and went outside. He was still panic stricken; he ran.

When finally he was out of breath and the fear and nausea had diminished, he slowed down. He came to a rise in the street and looked back. The shop was a glowing mass of white hot steel and concrete. Now and then a capsule which had been timed for a different interval belatedly let loose, sending up a shower of sparks. Frescura was dead.

Attracted by the fire and explosion people were coming out on the street. It was dark and he was glad he couldn’t see their faces. He tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. He went by a group under a street light. A little boy stopped in front of him, gazing up.

“Mommy, what’s the matter with him?” shrieked the child, pointing to Talbot’s face.

The woman looked too. “Hush,” she said, jerking her son back. “You know it’s bad manners to point.”

“But what’s the _matter_ with him?” persisted the child.

Talbot walked on. His clothing was disheveled, but not burned. He felt light-headed, unsteady on his feet. He was not surprised that the woman had pulled the child away.

He had done his best. He had tried desperately to save Frescura from his misplaced guilt feelings. Now he was going home to Randy. He had thought his return would be more triumphant than this.

He was nearing the apartment when he caught sight of himself in a shop mirror. He went past, then came back, and looked again. Finally he looked away. Into his mind had washed a torrent of terror. His eyes seemed empty and hueless.

His cheeks sagged. His face was _Between_.

His empathy had been shattered by shock and fear. He could close the gulf between Soleri and himself because they had been very much alike to begin with. But Frescura was different, incomprehensible. He could never have succeeded in understanding Frescura.

He had caught the last shreds of Frescura’s consciousness, and it was that terrifying awareness which had sent him sprawling just before the concussion. The obscure forces of his mind tried always to put him in another’s place. In times of extreme mental reaction the force became much stronger. But it couldn’t span the emotional gulf between himself and the scientist.

What it had done was to force out the lingering hold Soleri’s personality still had on him. He was no longer Soleri. But by the same token he was not yet himself.

He was reverting.

And his face was Between. It was a visible indication of what he was becoming. He couldn’t ever hope to pass as Soleri again. And that meant that Randy would be lost to him forever.

He turned and walked away from the apartment. His thoughts were dull and blank. He walked on until his body rebelled.

He stared about him. His wandering hadn’t been haphazard. Subconsciously his steps had taken him to his old apartment. He was standing in front of the building where he had lived as Hal Talbot. Wearily he climbed two flights of stairs and let himself in with a key which he had never discarded.

He fell on the bed. It was Talbot who went to sleep.

VIII

In the morning he avoided shaving. He didn’t want to look in the mirror. He ate, slept again, and listened to newscasts.

The newscaster announced that both Soleri and Frescura were dead. Soleri had been seen entering the plant but he hadn’t come out. Frescura’s death was harder to determine. He had left in the afternoon but there were definite indications that he had returned to the main workshop. The office building hadn’t been destroyed but the intense heat from the adjacent shop had caused considerable damage. A report had been found indicating that Frescura had planned a final experiment. He had been aware of the danger, and had planned to perform it at night in the workshop. An unexpected accident had apparently led to the tragedy.

The loss of building and equipment was partly covered by insurance. The company hastened to assure the public that there was sufficient capital in reserve to enable it to survive the blow to its financial stability.

Talbot shut off the newscast. He might have liked Frescura. Except for his excessive guilt complex the man had been heroic. And Talbot had to admit that Frescura had been right in one detail. He hadn’t failed. The perfect rocket motor would never be fully constructed in this century.

Meanwhile, he had a problem. What did the future hold for him? He lunched frugally, and tried to control his agitation. In the middle of the afternoon there was a knock on the door.

Randy had found him. She came in quietly and looked around at the shabby little apartment.

“I didn’t come to ask questions, although I have a right to,” she said. “But you made a mistake. Your salary allotment is on the executive payroll. It came to me for verification.”

“You can’t prove anything,” he said. “And if you could--would it matter?”

“I can prove all I want to prove,” she said.

“Soleri’s dead.”

“I know,” she said. “I’ve known for a long time. That wasn’t the only mistake you made.”

“You’ve known for a long time?” He sat down.

“Since the night I took you home from the hospital--and stayed. You said the wrong things. You kept giving yourself away. Don’t forget I was hired because I’m a psychologist.”

She stared at him steadily. “You told me that nothing had changed between us. But you were mistaken. I’m not in the habit of throwing myself at men. I admit I did at Soleri, just a little. But he was not in love with me. He might have been--except that he was in love with Eleanor.”

“Why didn’t you tell someone?” Talbot said. “Take it to plant protection?”

“I couldn’t,” she said. “I was upset, but I had trapped myself. I couldn’t--not until I figured things out. A few days later I decided not to interfere. You told me that a man had been killed and that you intended to find out why. I knew that you were not responsible for what had happened, that you were not just a self-seeking opportunist.”

So his masquerade hadn’t been nearly as good as he had thought! At least two people had seen through it. “That arrangement you mentioned--your statement that you were going home early. Was that deliberate too?”

“I wanted more proof that you weren’t Soleri,” said Randy. “And--well, I wanted to see if you minded. I’m glad you did.”

His thoughts were whirling and he couldn’t look at her. Mechanically Talbot opened the envelope. There was more money in it for his three weeks of employment than he had earned in any previous three months.

“When I put Talbot on the payroll I thought you were dead,” said Randy. “It was going to be your last job--so I made it a good one. I signed you on as assistant to Soleri.”

He could do without that. He didn’t need any industrial “assists” apart from himself, and his training in transportation and electronics.

“Taft is hoping you’ll show up,” said Randy. “His two top men are gone. He needs a new executive familiar with the organization. The company will still do research, on a dozen new projects. It has to keep on with experimental work if it’s going to survive.”

“Thanks for the tip!” He grinned at her. “I might go down and see what position they have for a man of my ability. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

He crossed the room and looked down at her. “But you’ve got to understand this--there are some things for which I can’t be any man’s assistant.”

“You won’t be,” said Randy.

“Don’t you know you never were?”

He knew it now. It was good to be himself again.

Transcriber’s Note:

This etext was produced from Fantastic Universe, March 1956 (Vol. 5, No. 2.). Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.