J. F. Bone, page 11
“Go to hell,” Pete said. “I’m not telling you anything.”
His courage lasted for one more round of symptoms. Then he talked—almost eagerly. For nearly three hours I rationed tonocaine and asked questions until I had milked him dry. I guess the end justified the means, but I felt dirty. It was necessary, of course, and an addict’s life means nothing when weighed against the death of a world—but that didn’t make me feel any happier. After it was all over, I checked him out with narcosine. I didn’t dare use it before because the anesthetic masked the deficiency syndrome, and Pete might have died before he told me everything he knew—but it didn’t make any difference now. He checked out a hundred per cent.
And between what he told me and the knowledge of what I had to do, I finally was sick—violently, convulsively, spasmically sick. Pete watched me with blank, unsympathetic eyes. He was full of his own troubles and terrors. He had no time for mine.
Then I kept my word. I set him free—after I had emptied the last three full syrettes of tonocaine into his bloodstream. The overdose acted as an analeptic. Pete opened his eyes and looked at me. There was an expression of peace on his face. He knew what I had done but he didn’t care. He grinned at me as he lay there on the bed relaxed and comfortable. He’d be dead within the hour and no medicine known to man could save him. His lips moved slowly. “I shoulda done this to myself a long time ago,” he said. “Thanks for doing it, Colonel. I just didn’t have the guts.” There was a short silence and I almost thought he was gone, but his eyes opened again. “Funny,” he murmured drowsily, “I never thought it would be this easy. I really shoulda done it myself.” His eyes closed and his breathing became shallow and soft. I stood there looking at him for a minute and then left the room, closing the door behind me.
Pete had known plenty. He was one of the contact men, and with the leads he had given me the law could make a cleanup that could break the backbone of the dope ring. I could almost feel good about it until I remembered what the information had cost.
My connection with the case was almost over, provided I could get the information I had to the place where it would do the most good. Five minutes on a communicator would fix everything, but the only long-range communicator in the Roost was in Kate’s office, and if I tried using that I’d be dead long before my five minutes were up. I had no choice but to wait out my contract and then get out of here.
The time element haunted me. I still didn’t know when H-Day was scheduled, and that knowledge was vital. Pete hadn’t known either. I assumed that it wouldn’t happen before the end of the Convo, until after Kate had collected every last munit of profit she could. Besides, Pete had told me that there were still contacts to make on his agenda that would keep him travelling for at least three weeks. He didn’t know whether they were the trigger for H-Day or not. All the signs seemed to indicate that I had plenty of time, but as the days passed, the uncertainty became agonizing.
However, there was one fact that was almost a pleasure to contemplate. Among other things, Pete had told me the names of some of the local leaders, and the one in Dunkelburg was John Dawson. I had known that Dawson was wrong from the moment I met him. I just didn’t know how wrong he was. A sadist was bad enough, but a head pusher for tonocaine was an even lower form of animal life. I got a positive delight out of visualizing that damned sadist sweating out the destruction of his ego in a rehabilitation cell. I would be happy to help him get there.
* * *
CHAPTER XII
« ^ »
I spent the last few days of my stay at the Roost rather unprofitably. The dome was calming down after the frenetic weeks of Convocation activities, and peace and quiet were becoming the rule rather than the exception. There was activity but it was a different sort, the activity of business, sales, consignments, contracts, and profits. The Roost was rapidly becoming a ghost town, and would remain in hibernation until another Convo season.
Soon I would be leaving. I bid reluctant goodbyes to my staff as they left. We had been through a lot these past weeks, and it was difficult parting. I guess they felt the same way because there was more than one pair of suspiciously moist eyes that looked into mine while their owner said farewell. I sent a report out with Mana. I wrote it in code and told her to deliver it to the chief of police in her home dome. She promised to do it, and I was sure she would. That was one thing about the ‘breeds; when they swore an oath by the Shambra, they kept their word.
The heavy footsteps in the hall outside my door roused me—some last customer no doubt—possibly a trader wanting a last-minute checkup before leaving for half a year of danger and loneliness in the Outlands. I sighed and opened the door.
One of Kate’s guards stood there. “Hiya, Doc, the Boss wants to see you,” he said.
“Payday?” I asked, half humorously.
“Yeah—payday. You got a bonus coming.”
“Okay,” I said, “I’ll get out of this smock and be right with you. Come in and sit down.” I disappeared into my room as the big fellow flopped into one of the waiting room chairs. I didn’t like this at all. Yesterday Kate and I had settled our accounts, and if I knew Kate—that was that! This bonus line was something I didn’t believe at all.
I took a syrette of anodyne from my kit, injected it deep into the muscles of my thigh, and stuffed a half dozen assorted others into my pockets. I took my Kelly, too, even though I knew I wouldn’t get a chance to use it if Kate were really on my tail. But no one would figure the syrettes as weapons. They were logical occupants of a doctor’s pocket. I wasn’t going into Kate’s den entirely defenseless. The anodyne would take care of truth serum, narcosine, or any of the other hypnotics. And the others might be useful. It’d take a lethal dose of hypnotic to put me under, and by the time I reached Kate’s den, my sensory nerves would be so numb that I’d have to be torn apart before I felt anything. But the stuff wouldn’t slow me up. I could fight if I had to, and I would fight if necessary. I slipped on my jacket and went to visit with Kate, cursing the luck that kept me here when I should be gone. If Riker had only left yesterday…
She was waiting for me, flanked by a pair of hard-eyed men with Kellys in their hands. She looked at me coldly. “Frisk him,” she ordered, pointing a fat finger at me.
My escort patted my pockets and removed my blaster. He also ran his hands along my sleeves, a trick I hadn’t seen since I left the Police School in Thermopolis. Deciding that I was clean, he stepped out of the line of fire.
Kate grinned at me. “It’s all over, Doc,” she said. “It’s been fun watching you, but someone should have told you that police spies never get to first base in Roost. It’s too bad, Doc, you were a rather nice fellow.”
I shrugged. I had expected this. Things had been too good too long. The roof had been overdue to fall in. But, I wasn’t about to give up without a try. I might be able to bluff it out. And even if I didn’t, Mana had the information that had to get to Headquarters. She’d see that it got through. “So,” I sneered, “you’re a welsher after all. I didn’t have that accident during Convo, so you’re manufacturing one to save yourself a lousy five thousand!”
“Nice try, Doc,” she said, “but it won’t work. Sure, I’d be glad to save the five thousand if I could, but I can’t. You saw to it with that death by violence gimmick. You’re going to die by violence, all right, but not because I’m a welsher. I’ve got proof that you’re working for the law.” She moved her huge bulk painfully and reached toward a small table beside her. She picked up a square of brown leather—Pete’s syringe case. “Your prints are all over it,” she said. “For a cop, you’re damn careless. You killed Pete.”
“So what? I’ve never denied it.”
“You didn’t volunteer either. Why did you kill him?”
“He was a tonocaine addict. He was better off dead.”
“Who gave you the right to judge?” she asked. She didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, she picked up my casebook and shook it at me. “Explain this while you’re at it, smart guy!” she snapped. My casebook! I was thankful for my scars! They hid the guilty expression that would have been a dead giveaway. Whoever had gotten that book was clever. I never even knew it was gone.
“It’s in police code,” she said accusingly.
“Well—I was a cop once. You knew that. I keep case notes. Someday I may want to write a book.”
“You also use narcosine.”
“Sure—lots of people do. I happen to like the stuff.”
“It—or its effects?” she queried. “You see, I’ve been reading up on that drug.”
I realized I wasn’t going to bluff this one out. “Besides,” she continued, “even if you weren’t a cop, you know too much about our activities. The only way you’ll ever get out of here is feet first. You’re a menace.”
I chuckled. “You’re having nightmares.”
“I like brave men,” Kate said, “but let’s lay it on the line. It’s my neck or yours, and I prefer it to be yours. Before I have you shot, I’ll show you what I’ve found out. First, I know that you know we’ve been growing tonocaine here.”
“Oh, great!” I exploded. “Now you tell me—so even if you hadn’t had an excuse to kill me before—you have it now!”
Kate laughed at me.
“Next,”—she gestured at the biggest of the two guards standing beside her. Big boy walked over to the far end of the room and opened a door set flush in the wall. He went inside and came back pushing a girl ahead of him. Her wrists were tied behind her back, and her body jerked and twitched as she moved. It was Mana! The shock and surprise nearly got through the anodyne. “Tonocaine,” Kate said, “is just as good a truth serum as narcosine—only you keep it away instead of giving it. You want to listen to her talk?”
“It’s not necessary.” I said. “How did you find out?”
“Once I knew you killed Pete, I took no chances. Every person who worked for you was given tonocaine. This is the only one who knew anything. I had to waste the others.”
“That’s him!” Mana screamed. “He worked Pete over. He gave me the papers. That’s the living truth. Now gimme that shot you promised!”
I could do nothing. I wasn’t able to realize that Kate had done what she had. Fifteen people had worked for me, and she had killed them all. The cold-blooded enormity of it paralyzed my will and held me motionless, frozen with shock and cold with anodyne.
Kate looked at Big Boy standing behind the girl, and shrugged. “Take her away, Alf,” she said. “I just wanted her for confirmation—and you don’t need to bother about giving her that shot. Just throw her out.”
Mana screamed as Big Boy dragged her out. She was already showing signs of deprivation. I didn’t think she’d live through them.
“She’s served her purpose,” Kate said callously, “and tonocaine is too valuable to waste.”
“You’ve killed her!”
“You killed Pete.”
“Sure—but I didn’t make him an addict. Nor did I kill him with deprivation symptoms. He went out on a cloud. And you can’t blame me for making him an addict. That was your work.”
“Admitted,” Kate said. “I liked Pete, but I had to be sure of him. What he was doing was pretty important, and I couldn’t take chances.” Her voice was introspective. “So I put him on junk. I knew I could count on him then. He was tied to me.”
At that moment I hated Kate with a bitterness beyond passion.
“Next,” Kate went on inexorably, “we checked up on you at Police Headquarters in Thermopolis. You’re still on the active list there although you were canned from the force in Dunkelburg. That means you’re still a cop. Then there’s this little black book and the notes we got from Mana. You did pretty well. Too bad you got stupid. But I suppose that killing Pete didn’t set too well with you. You’re a damned romantic, and it’s caught up with you.”
Well, that was that! She was playing with me, savoring the taste of power. She had me cold. Ruefully, I decided that I still had a lot to learn before I ever became a good undercover agent, but I probably wouldn’t get the chance. I had come so close to making it, but I had missed, and one miss in this game was all you got.
“Now, Boss?” the big fellow on her left asked.
“Yes, I think so. We’re wasting time,” Kate said. Her voice was as remote and detached as a judge passing the death sentence.
He raised his Kelly.
“No—wait!” Kate said. “Work him over a little first. I want him to feel a little of what Pete felt before he died. Then give him an overdose of tonocaine and let him go the easy way. Like Pete did.”
A grin of pleasure crossed the big fellow’s face as he put away his Kelly and moved in on me, keeping clear of his partner’s line of fire. The fellow who had brought me here stood off to one side, my Kelly drooping in his fist, watching the proceedings with bored alertness.
Big Boy hit me in the face.
Anodyne is a wonderful drug. I should have been blinded with pain as my nose spurted blood but I didn’t feel a thing. For a moment I didn’t even have sense enough to fall down. Then I did what I was supposed to—artistically—so I got in line between the two armed goons. I groaned and came to my knees, shaking my head and spattering drops of blood over Kate’s nice carpet. Big Boy stepped in and aimed a vicious kick at my ribs.
I helped it along with my hands on his ankle, and at the same time kicked backwards with both feet. Big Boy fell flat on his back, the wind jarred out of him as my feet struck true to the mark in the groin of the man holding my Kelly. He dropped the gun, screaming with agony.
I snaked the Kelly out of Big Boy’s shoulder holster as the searing blast from the third goon’s gun burned the rug where I had been. I snapped a blast at him that made him duck, caught him in the chest with a second shot, and burned Big Boy in the head as he tried to grapple with me. At such close range, the blast set my jacket afire and singed my hair. I ignored it and placed a fourth shot into the body of the man I had kicked as he lay writhing on the floor. As I once said, no normal man can match reflexes with me.
Kate never even realized what was happening before her three men were dead and I was standing over her beating the fire out of my jacket with one hand while with the other I held the Kelly pointed unwaveringly at her third chin.
“Well, Kate,” I said. I let the hate and loathing flow out of me and spatter over her.
She gasped. “Don’t do it!” she pleaded. “You can’t get out of here without any help.” There was desperation rather than confidence in her voice.
“You talk too much,” I replied. “Now you’ll get me out.” I smiled unreassuringly at her.
She looked at me, and if looks could kill, I’d have been dead on the spot. “Try and make me,” she snapped.
“Don’t tempt me.. I’ve never killed a woman, but I’ll burn you like a torch if you don’t pick up that phone and give me a clearance out of here.” To show her I meant it, I batted her a couple of times with my free hand. The red welts that leaped into life on her fat face must have hurt her pride as well as her flesh. “I hope it takes a little time,” I said. “I’m enjoying this. I could slap your blubber all day and it wouldn’t be enough.” I raised the Kelly with obvious intention of raking the heat dissipators across her face.
She flinched. Reluctantly, her fat hand reached for the phone. “Get me Mike,” she said into the speaker. She waited a few seconds. “Mike,” she began abruptly, “I checked Doc over. He doesn’t know anything. Let him go. Huh?—Mean it?—Sure, I mean it! He’s clean.” She cradled the phone. “There,” she said. “You’re clear to get out—much good it’ll do you. You’ll never leave the Roost. The gate guards are looking for you.”
I took my head from beside her ear where I had been listening to the other side of the conversation. “Not quite,” I said. She must have guessed what I was going to do because a scream started in her fat throat. It never got out…
I had intended to kill her, but when the chips were down, I discovered I couldn’t do it. And to my dying day I’ll never know why. Possibly being an executioner once was enough. So I merely batted her along one temple with the barrel of the Kelly. I looked down at the gross body sprawled unconscious on the floor, and reached into my pocket for the handful of syrettes I had taken from my office. Picking through them I found what I wanted and made two injections in the vein in the bend of her fat elbow. I should shoot her, I kept thinking. But I couldn’t. She deserved death, but someone else could give it. The narcosine should keep her out for at least twenty-four hours and since there was no other medic in the Roost, she’d be worthless for another four or five hours past that time. And in thirty hours I should be long gone.
She stirred and murmured. Maybe I’d get some answers to questions in the few moments between partial and total anesthesia. I knelt beside her. “Who heads this dope ring?” I demanded, knowing the answer would be “I do,” but I wanted to be sure. The answer shocked me. “I—don’t—know,” she said slowly. “Some—big—shot—in—Thermopolis.”
“A man?” I asked. All my good theory shot to hell! I still didn’t know why or who was back of this. I should have gone slower with the narcosine. But Kate was still talking. Her vitality was amazing.
“I—think—so. Sound—like—one. He’s—got—one—funny—hab—it. He—sssppp—ahh…” The fat lips bubbled but no sound came forth. I shook her.
“What habit?” I demanded.
There was no response. Kate was out of this world.
Well, there were more fools than one in this business, but I was by long odds the biggest. I picked up my casebook, recovered my Kelly and gave the corpse-littered room a quick once-over. In Kate’s desk, right on top, I found something that made me quiver. It was just a piece of paper from a communicator printout with a half dozen words typed on it. “Williams HQ cop. Kill him.” That was my death warrant and it had come from the outside. There was nothing about it that could be identified, no origin code, no time or date—nothing. It was virtually certain that the message had come over Kate’s long-range communicator. So that was that. I wasn’t going to use that instrument to call HQ and warn Lantham that there was a traitor in his group. It just might be the wrong person who got the message, and then my hopes of getting out of the Roost would be slim indeed.
