The one I found didn't inspire much confidence—you could hardly see it for the weeds—but I didn't want to make a big splash. I had to have an assist from my driver to make it to the front door. He got me inside, parked my box beside me and went off to finish his rounds, under the impression that it had been a dull morning.
The doctor was a seedy, seventyish G.P. with a gross tremor3 of the hands that a good belt of Scotch4 would have helped. He looked at me as though I'd interrupted something that was either more fun or paid better than anything I was likely to come up with.
"I need my dressing5 changed, Doc," I said. "And maybe a shot to keep me going."
"I'm not a dope peddler," he snapped. "You've got the wrong place."
"Just a little medication—whatever's usual. It's a burn."
"Who told you to come here?"
I looked at him meaningfully. "The word gets around."
He glared at me, gnashed his plates, then gestured toward a black-varnished door. "Go right in there."
He gaped6 at my arm when the bandages were off. I took a quick glance and wished I hadn't.
"How did you do this?"
"Smoking in bed," I said. "Have you got ... something that...."
He caught me before I hit the floor, got me into a chair. Then he had that Scotch he'd been wanting, gave me a shot as an after-thought, and looked at me narrowly.
"I suppose you fell out of that same bed and broke your leg," he said.
"Right. Hell of a dangerous bed."
"I'll be right back." He turned to the door. "Don't go away. I'll just ... get some gauze."
"Better stay here, Doc. There's plenty of gauze right on that table."
"See here—"
"Skip it, doc. I know all about you."
"What?"
"I said all about you."
He set to work then; a guilty conscience is a tough argument to answer.
He plastered my arm with something and rewrapped it, then looked the leg over and made a couple of adjustments to the brace7. He clucked over the stitches in my scalp, dabbed8 something on them that hurt like hell, then shoved an old-fashioned stickpin9 needle into my good arm.
"That's all I can do for you," he said. He handed me a bottle of pills. "Here are some tablets to take in an emergency. Now get out."
"Call me a cab, Doc."
I listened while he called, then lit a cigarette and watched through the curtains. The doc stood by, worrying his upper plate and eyeing me. So far I hadn't had to tinker with his mind, but it would be a good idea to check. I felt my way delicately.
—oh God, why did I ... long time ago ... Mary ever knew ... go to Arizona, start again, too old.... I saw the nest of fears that gnawed10 at him, the frustration11 and the faint flicker12 of hope but not quite dead. I touched his mind, wiped away scars....
"Here's your car," he said. He opened the door, looking at me. I started past him.
"Are you sure you're all right?" he said.
"Sure, Pop. And don't worry. Everything's going to be okay."
The driver put my boxes on the back seat. I got in beside him and told him to take me to a men's clothing store. He waited while I changed my hand-me-downs for an off-the-hook suit, new shirt and underwear and a replacement13 beret. It was the only kind of hat that didn't hurt. My issue shoes were still good, but I traded them in on a new pair, added a light raincoat, and threw in a sturdy suitcase for good measure. The clerk said something about money and I dropped an idea into his mind, paused long enough to add a memory of a fabulous14 night with a redhead. He hardly noticed me leaving.
I tried not to feel like a shop-lifter. After all, it's not every day a man gets a chance to swap15 drygoods for dreams.
In the cab, I transferred my belongings16 to the new suitcase, then told the driver to pull up at an anonymous-looking hotel. A four-star admiral with frayed17 cuffs18 helped me inside with my luggage. The hackie headed for the bay to get rid of the box under the impression I was a heavy tipper.
I had a meal in my room, a hot bath, and treated myself to a three hour nap. I woke up feeling as though those student embalmers might graduate after all.
I thumbed through the phone book and dialed a number.
"I want a Cadillac or Lincoln," I said. "A new one—not the one you rent for funerals—and a driver who won't mind missing a couple nights' sleep. And put a bed pillow and a blanket in the car."
I went down to the coffee room then for a light meal. I had just finished a cigarette when the car arrived—a dark blue heavyweight with a high polish and a low silhouette19.
"We're going to Denver," I told the driver. "We'll make one stop tomorrow—I have a little shopping to do. I figure about twenty hours. Take a break every hundred miles, and hold it under seventy."
He nodded. I got in the back and sank down in the smell of expensive upholstery.
"I'll cross town and pick up U.S. 84 at—"
"I leave the details to you," I said. He pulled out into the traffic and I got the pillow settled under me and closed my eyes. I'd need all the rest I could get on this trip. I'd heard that compared with the Denver Records Center, Fort Knox was a cinch. I'd find out for sure when I got there.
The plan I had in mind wasn't the best I could have concocted20 under more leisurely21 circumstances. But with every cop in the country under orders to shoot me on sight, I had to move fast. My scheme had the virtue22 of unlikeliness. Once I was safe in the Central Vault23—supposed to be the only H-bomb-proof structure ever built—I'd put through a phone call to the outside, telling them to watch a certain spot; say the big desk in the President's office. Then I'd assemble my matter transmitter and drop some little item right in front of the assembled big shots. They'd have to admit I had something. And this time they'd have to start considering the possibility that I wasn't working for the enemy.
It had been a smooth trip, and I'd caught up on my sleep. Now it was five A.M. and we were into the foothills, half an hour out of Denver. I ran over my lines, planning the trickiest24 part of the job ahead—the initial approach. I'd listened to a couple of news broadcasts. The FBI was still promising25 an arrest within hours. I learned that I was lying up, or maybe dead, in the vicinity of Key West, and that the situation was under control. That was fine with me. Nobody would expect me to pop up in Denver, still operating under my own power—and wearing a new suit at that.
The Records Center was north of the city, dug into mountainside. I steered26 my chauffeur27 around the downtown section, out a street lined with dark hamburger joints28 and unlit gas stations to where a side road branched off. We pulled up. From here on, things might get dangerous—if I was wrong about how easy it was all going to be. I brushed across the driver's mind. He set the brake and got out.
"Don't know how I came to run out of gas, Mr. Brown," he said apologetically. "We just passed a station but it was closed. I guess I'll just have to hike back into town. I sure am sorry; I never did that before."
I told him it was okay, watched as he strode off into the pre-dawn gloom, then got into the front seat and started up. The gate of the Reservation surrounding the Record Center was only a mile away now. I drove slowly, feeling ahead for opposition29. There didn't seem to be any. Things were quiet as a poker30 player with a pat hand. My timing31 was good.
I stopped in front of the gate, under a floodlight and the watchful32 eye of an M.P. with a shiny black tommygun held at the ready. He didn't seem surprised to see me. I rolled down the window as he came over to the car.
"I have an appointment inside, Corporal," I said. I touched his mind. "The password is 'hot-point'."
He nodded, stepped back, and motioned me in. I hesitated. This was almost too easy. I reached out again....
"... middle of the night ... password ... nice car ... I wish...."
I pulled through the gate and headed for the big parking lot, picking a spot in front of a ramp33 that led down to a tall steel door. There was no one in sight. I got out, dragging my suitcase. It was heavier now, with the wire and magnets I'd added. I crossed the drive, went up to the doors. The silence was eerie34.
I swept the area, searching for minds, found nothing. The shielding, I decided35, blanked out everything.
There was a personnel door set in the big panel, with a massive combination lock. I leaned my head against the door and felt for the mechanism36, turning the dial right, left, right....
The lock opened. I stepped inside, alert.
Silence, darkness. I reached out, sensed walls, slabs37 of steel, concrete, intricate mechanisms38, tunnels deep in the ground....
But no personnel. That was surprising—but I wouldn't waste time questioning my good luck. I followed a corridor, opened another door, massive as a vault, passed more halls, more doors. My footsteps made muffled39 echoes. I passed a final door and came into the heart of the Records Center.
There were lights in the chamber40 around the grim, featureless periphery41 of the Central Vault. I set the valise on the floor, sat on it and lit a cigarette. So far, so good. The Records Center, I saw, had been over-rated. Even without my special knowledge, a clever locksmith could have come this far—or almost. But the Big Vault was another matter. The great integrating lock that secured it would yield only to a complex command from the computer set in the wall opposite the vault door. I smoked my cigarette and, with eyes closed, studied the vault.
I finished the cigarette, stepped on it, went to the console, began pressing keys, tapping out the necessary formulations. Half an hour later I finished. There was a whine42 from a servo motor; a crimson43 light flashed. I turned and saw the valve cycle open, showing a bright-lit tunnel within.
I dragged my bag inside, threw the lever that closed the entry behind me. A green light went on. I walked along the narrow passage, lined with gray metal shelves stacked with gray steel tape drums, descended44 steps, came into a larger chamber fitted out with bunks45, a tiny galley46, toilet facilities, shelves stocked with food. There was a radio, a telephone and a second telephone, bright red. That would be the hot-line to Washington. This was the sanctum sanctorum, where the last survivors47 could wait out the final holocaust—indefinitely.
I opened the door of a steel cabinet. Radiation suits, tools, instruments. Another held bedding. I found a tape-player, tapes—even a shelf of books. I found a first aid kit48 and gratefully gave myself a hypo-spray jolt49 of neurite. My pains receded50.
I went on to the next room; there were wash tubs, a garbage disposal unit, a drier. There was everything here I needed to keep me alive and even comfortable until I could convince someone up above that I shouldn't be shot on sight.
A heavy door barred the way to the room beyond. I turned a wheel, swung the door back, saw more walls lined with filing cabinets, a blank facade51 of gray steel; and in the center of the room, alone on a squat52 table—a yellow plastic case that any Sunday Supplement reader would have recognized.
It was a Master Tape, the Utter Top Secret Programming document that would direct the terrestrial defense53 in case of a Gool invasion.
It was almost shocking to see it lying there—unprotected except for the flimsy case. The information it contained in micro-micro dot form could put my world in the palm of the enemy's hand.
The room with the tool kit would be the best place to work, I decided. I brought the suitcase containing the electronic gear back from the outer door where I'd left it, opened it and arranged its contents on the table. According to the Gool these simple components54 were all I needed. The trick was in knowing how to put them together.
There was work ahead of me now. There were the coils to wind, the intricate antenna55 arrays to lay out; but before I started, I'd take time to call Kayle—or whoever I could get at the other end of the hot-line. They'd be a little startled when I turned up at the heart of the defenses they were trying to shield.
I picked up the receiver and a voice spoke56:
"Well, Granthan. So you finally made it."
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1
residential
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| adj.提供住宿的；居住的；住宅的 | |
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shingle
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| n.木瓦板；小招牌(尤指医生或律师挂的营业招牌)；v.用木瓦板盖（屋顶）；把（女子头发）剪短 | |
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tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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gaped
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| v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的过去式和过去分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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7
brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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8
dabbed
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| （用某物）轻触( dab的过去式和过去分词 )； 轻而快地擦掉（或抹掉）； 快速擦拭； （用某物）轻而快地涂上（或点上）… | |
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9
stickpin
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| n.领带夹 | |
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gnawed
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| 咬( gnaw的过去式和过去分词 )； （长时间） 折磨某人； （使）苦恼； （长时间）危害某事物 | |
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11
frustration
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| n.挫折，失败，失效，落空 | |
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flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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13
replacement
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| n.取代，替换，交换；替代品，代用品 | |
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14
fabulous
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| adj.极好的；极为巨大的；寓言中的，传说中的 | |
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swap
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| n.交换；vt.交换，用...作交易 | |
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belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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frayed
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| adj.磨损的v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18
cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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19
silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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20
concocted
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| v.将（尤指通常不相配合的）成分混合成某物( concoct的过去式和过去分词 )；调制；编造；捏造 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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24
trickiest
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| adj.狡猾的( tricky的最高级 )；（形势、工作等）复杂的；机警的；微妙的 | |
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promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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26
steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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27
chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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28
joints
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| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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timing
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| n.时间安排，时间选择 | |
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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ramp
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| n.暴怒，斜坡，坡道；vi.作恐吓姿势，暴怒，加速；vt.加速 | |
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eerie
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| adj.怪诞的；奇异的；可怕的；胆怯的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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slabs
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| n.厚板，平板，厚片( slab的名词复数 )；厚胶片 | |
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mechanisms
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| n.机械( mechanism的名词复数 )；机械装置；[生物学] 机制；机械作用 | |
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39
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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40
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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41
periphery
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| n.(圆体的)外面；周围 | |
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42
whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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43
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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44
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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45
bunks
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| n.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的名词复数 )；空话，废话v.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的第三人称单数 )；空话，废话 | |
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46
galley
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| n.（飞机或船上的）厨房单层甲板大帆船；军舰舰长用的大划艇； | |
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47
survivors
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| 幸存者，残存者，生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
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48
kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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49
jolt
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| v.（使）摇动，（使）震动，（使）颠簸 | |
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50
receded
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的过去式和过去分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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51
facade
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| n.(建筑物的)正面，临街正面；外表 | |
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52
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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53
defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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54
components
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| （机器、设备等的）构成要素，零件，成分； 成分( component的名词复数 )； [物理化学]组分； [数学]分量； （混合物的）组成部分 | |
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55
antenna
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| n.触角，触须；天线 | |
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56
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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