tantaliz (34 page)

Gansy was self-effacing. "Doctor, these . . . these men are very interested in your project." And he added quickly, "They're willing to pay."

"Hm-m-m. I should think so. D'you think I don't know what they're after? D'you think I'm a fool? Blasted nuisance." The eyes studied them with marked disfavor.

Gansy perspired profusely. "Please, Doctor." There was a wheedling note in his tone. "You wouldn't want this place to become generally known to the authorities, would you?"

The doctor glowered at him. "Bah!" The aperture was slammed viciously shut.

For a moment it looked as though the interview was ended. And then the steel door was dragged open.

The doctor stood aside, scowling, very disgruntled. "If you must, you must—come on then. But be sure you don't touch anything."

The visitors trooped in, the eyes of Mr. Ciano very narrow.

Dr. Leigher had the clipped voice of a teacher who hated to say a thing once, let alone twice. His three-day beard and extremely grubby dustcoat did not detract from his querulousness. "It is not a time-machine but a time-and-space transposer. There is a precise coordination of movement through both time and space, and I am able to move a body from point 'A' to point 'B' as I choose, providing all prior conditions have been fulfilled."

It still sounded like hokum to Mr. Ciano, and yet. . . He looked at the heavy cables snaking across the floor. "What's behind those double-doors—your power plant?"

"Yes." Leigher was wintry. "Would you like to have a look? I'll unlock it for you. You might find the effulgence therapeutic."

"Effulgence?"

"Yes—radiation!" Leigher exploded irritably. "What do you think —I'm hooked to the town supply? What do you think I'm doing here—something that can be run on thirty-two volts and a bicycle?" He snorted. "I need a constant infallible supply without risk of breakdown." He pointed a none-too-clean finger. "It's down there, half-a-mile away, shielded by the earth itself."

"You dig your own tunnel?" Seffan inquired.

Leigher was acid. "Very funny. As it happens, this is an old gold-mining site, and some of the shafts have proved very suitable to my needs."

Mr. Ciano, stepping carefully, circled the transposer chamber. Again he noted the thickness of the leads trailing to the barred double-doors. It doesn't seem much," he said. "But it's like an iceberg, eh? Most of it out of sight"

Leigher sniffed. "Hardly an iceberg, but yes, quantitively, that might convey the impression."

"And the power is constant, ready to be tapped at any time?"

"The field is kept open at all times—has to be. To switch off, or close down, would be to break contact I can't allow that to happen, and there is no provision here for a cut-off switch. So, if you'd like to lose' somebody into the past by shutting off the power, you'd have to destroy this entire installation. And believe me, it would not be worth it"

"I was not thinking of anything like that," Mr. Ciano said. "If it really works, the last thing I would wish is to interfere with the power."

"No." Leigher removed his glasses and began to clean them with a filthy handkerchief. "I know what you want," he said bitterly. "The same as the others. Easy pickings."

Mr. Ciano pretended mild shock. "Easy pickings? My interest is primarily historical." He indicated some furniture and bric-a-brac that was piled in one corner. "Although I admit that I have a passing interest in, ah, antiques."

"Oh ha-ha," Leigher said sarcastically. His fingers flicked at the henchmen. "That's why you need your armed guards, I suppose?" he sneered. "And what's in the suitcase? A small arsenal, I shouldn't wonder."

"The suitcase contains items we thought might be useful should certain contingencies arise." Mr. Ciano tried to be crushingly icy. "What weapons you may see are purely for self-defense in case of an emergency."

"Oh ha-ha," Leigher said again. "Do you think I'm an idiot? I know who you are. You're the same as him"—his finger jabbed at Gansy—"a help-yourself crook. Well I don't care. If you shoot somebody dead, they've already been dead for a few hundred years, so it won't make a difference anyway. If you want to help yourselves, you can. But I'm certainly not going to aid you for nothing."

"You've had. . . other friends through here?" Seffan asked.

"I most certainly have," Leigher grated. Thanks to my own kindness to a dying wastrel I rescued. As it turned out, he was on the run from the police. Since that time I seem to be getting an ever-increasing number of his fellows calling at my door. Most of them making promises that they subsequently fail to keep." He glowered at Gansy.

Gansy was hurt. "I paid, didn't I? One for one. Guineas are worth more than dollars."

Leigher's smile was mirthless. He rammed his glasses back on. "Perhaps. But trying to spend them creates a great deal of unwanted attention, and I am not as familiar as you may be with discreet methods of disposal." He breathed very hard. "If you want to clean out a Seventeenth Century bank, all well and good. But I want to be paid in dollars." And with a touch of fierceness to Mr. Ciano, "And I want to be paid in advance."

Mr. Ciano squinted, sneered in his turn. "How do we know you can do what you say you can do? What if it's a frost?"

Then that'll be through your own incompetence," Leigher said sharply. "Look, I've had enough of you people coming in here, making grand promises to share what you make, but putting up not a nickel beforehand. And what do I get?" He steamed. "If they
do
come back, they bring me junk." He gestured at the assortment of ancient pieces. I'm in the furniture business?" His voice was high with indignation. "No! If you've come here to make use of this device, you're unlucky. "I've had enough! I'm through!" He seemed very cranky.o more! No more!" His hands swept angry negative.

Mr. Ciano was quick. "You said, 'if they
do
come back'—does this mean that some of them
don't
come back!"

Leigher glared at him. "It means exactly that Do you know what it's like in the past? Can't you appreciate the advantages? A modern man there is a king. Armed even with only a .38 he is virtually invincible." Leigher's head nodded. "Oh, yes, I've had some promises. Fat lot of good it's done me. They just throw away their recallers and don t give a damn." He shouted, I've had enough of it, I tell you!"

Even Mr. Ciano flinched at Leigher s vehemence.

Take it easy, Doctor, take it easy," Mr. Ciano placated. He clasped his hands in front of him. "You deal with me, and everything will be square. I'm no two-bit punk. I'm here on business. If what I've heard is true, we should be able to come to some arrangement to our mutual advantage. And I can see to it that you are protected and don't get bothered by strangers anymore."

Leigher was skeptical "I've heard such stories before. You people are all the same. Promises," he jeered savagely, "always promises. Well I'm not taking promises any more. You can do what you like. You either pay beforehand, or you get nothing. I'm sick and tired of freeloaders."

"Relax, Doctor, relax," Mr. Ciano soothed. "I represent sound vested interests, and well be glad to put up whatever capital you may need."

Leigher was unconvinced. "I'll believe it when I see it I'm not being taken in again. The purity of your motives and intentions are no concern of mine. You can save your talk. Now it's cash or nothing."

Mr. Ciano pondered briefly. Then he gave Seffan a slight nod.

Seffan opened his valise. He produced one wad of notes. And a second wad of notes. And another, and another. He placed all four bundles upon a small table that could have been designed by Chippendale.

"Your price per man is twenty thousand dollars, I believe," Mr. Ciano said His eyes were intensely searching. "There is enough on that table to pay for the passage of two. If it is a success, there is more where that came from—you will be paid, no haggling." He waited to let that sink in.

"Hm-m-m." Dr. Leigher strode to the table, picked up the money, riffled it, seemed satisfied. He started to stuff it into his pockets.

Seffan startled him with a cautionary grip on his elbow. "Not so fast, Doc."

"What? Look, what is this? I thought it was a payment?" Leigher was disgusted "Either it's mine, or it isn't I'm not going to play games."

Mr. Ciano waved Seffan off. "Go ahead, Doctor, it's yours. But before you send anybody away," he was coolly pragmatic, "we would like to see a demonstration. . ."

Leigher was a trifle ruffled. "A demonstration? What do you have in mind?" He thrust the last bundle of money into a dustcoat pocket, adjusted his glasses, returned his hands to swell the bulges. "If you experience it, it demonstrates itself, surely? What more do you want?"

"First I want you to send one of us." Mr. Ciano raised a considering eyebrow at a henchman. "Carl here, say—and then bring him back. If his report corroborates your claim that you can send people into the past—and recover them—then others of us will go to explore the prospects. Isn't that reasonable?"

Leigher shrugged. "I'm giving no free rides. You want a demonstration, you'll have to pay for it. That will count as one."

"That's pretty tough," Mr. Ciano argued. "We'd only want him to be in the place long enough to confirm that your device does work. A half hour, an hour, just to look around and give the O.K."

Leigher was patronizingly cynical. "You can do what you like. You pay for two journeys, and two journeys you can have. I won't take any responsibility for the way that a person may react at the other end."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I've told you. A modern man thinks differently when he gets back there. Even a dumb modem man knows so much more. There is opportunity on every hand, power—you don't realize how tempting it is."

"You mean Carl might want to stay there?" Mr. Ciano's jaw set "He knows better. Hell do as he's told, or he knows what he can expect"

Leigher was mocking. "Yes? What jurisdiction will you have over him a few hundred years back from now? Would you like to waste time, effort and money sending people to hunt for him in those times? Where are your contacts? Where would you search? And could you find men you could trust not to do the very same thing as the man they were looking for?"

Leigher was sardonic. "I know, I've had some. The past is virtually virgin territory to a modem man. And it's a big world, where it is easy to gain favors from influential people for services rendered. A modern man,
any
modern man, can become somebody. I've had," he thought and mentally counted, "nineteen people come to me to take a so-called 'temporary' trip into the past" He paused, then added with heavy emphasis, "Only three ever came back. And he" —he pointed at Gansy—"was one of them."

"How do you know that they stayed there deliberately?"

"Because they tie their recallers to pieces of junk like that!" Leigher cried, exasperated. "Furniture, knick-knacks. They think it's a joke!" He took a few paces to relieve his irritability. "They seem to think I can operate on thin air. Well, no more. From now on I'm taking no chances."

Mr. Ciano brooded. "Is there no way you can recall them, whether they want to come, or not?"

"Arbitrarily? No. The recaller must be worn properly. It is not all that comfortable, and looks odd, so it is generally taken off. Thus I dare not recall anyone unless I get the correct signal." He shook his head in despair. "And when I do get the signal, it so often has turned out to be something like that unfinished statue from medieval Florence." Leigher stared at Mr. Ciano. "You must know what you're doing. It's not quite as simple as it looks."

Mr. Ciano dug out a cigar to help him think. He nipped the end, tasted, frowned, took a fight from Seffan. His unblinking contemplation of him made Carl uneasy.

Mr. Ciano broke to study his smoke with seeming concentration. "So," he said, "is there no way that we can be sure that a traveler will return. . . will
want
to return?"

There is." There was a devilish light in Leigher's eye. "I have given the matter some thought, and I
do
have one solution." He walked over to his Queen Anne
escritoire
, opened a drawer, brought forth a tube. This." He tapped the plastic. "One of these pills will kill in six hours. Allowing an hour beforehand for it to be fully assimilated into the system, and one hour afterwards for a safety margin, that will leave four hours in-between when the volunteer can make examination of the past But, if he lingers overtime he will die, for the antidote is here."

Mr. Ciano halted in mid-puff. "Well." He liked it. That sounds like a good idea."

Carl shot a glance between the pair. It did not sound such a good idea to him. I'm taking no poison," he warned.

"Carl!" Mr. Ciano was sternly abrupt. "You will come to no harm. You will get back here after two or three hours, take the antidote, and that's all there'll be to it"

"Yeah? I'm taking no poison," he repeated. "Supposing something should happen? Suppose I got knocked on the head? Suppose I lost this recall thing? No. I'm sorry, Mr. Ciano, but that's
out
." Mr. Ciano was grieved. He went a little red, but he could see that Carl was adamant. He filed this intractability for future reference. "Very well, Carl. Then it will have to be Moke. Moke?"

Moke was checking the magazine on his pistol. He did not raise his eyes. "I don't think I'd like it either, Mr. Ciano. It'd be sorta against my religion. Fooling around with poison, I mean, a man could get killed. It'd be easy to make a mistake, wouldn't it?"

Mr, Ciano became tense. He was unused to such flagrant insubordination. Way out here, they suddenly thought they could do as they pleased. He came within an ace of losing his temper. "Seffan?" It came out very tight-wound.

Seffan relished the thought of imbibing some toxic substance no more than did the others, but he was more slyly diplomatic. "Surely it would be best to send someone experienced, someone who knows all about it and who would, therefore, be less likely to make an error?"

The others followed the direction of his gaze. "Huh?" And Gansy jerked to quick attention.