Counter Clock World

"Are you actually the Anarch Peak?" A

"I only know," the Anarch said dreamily, "that I've had a priceless opportunity. God has provided me--and others, too-- with more than he allowed Paul to witness. I _must_ get it all down." He appealed to Sebastian. "Don't you suppose you could get me a tape recorder, Mr. Hermes? I feel myself forgetting... it's vanishing from within my grasp, melting away." He clenched his fists spasmodically.

To Bob Lindy, Sebastian said, "It ought to be possible to round up a tape recorder. We used to have one; what happened to it?"

"The lifters jammed," Lindy said. "It's back where we got it, being serviced."

"That was months ago," Cheryl Vale said severely.

"Well," Lindy said, "nobody's had the time to pick it up. We can get it tomorrow morning."

"But it's departing," the Anarch wailed. "Please help me."

A

"For voice recording," Sebastian said, "fidelity doesn't matter." He made a quick decision. "Could you be prevailed on to go get it? And bring it back here?"

"Don't forget tape," Lindy said. "Around twelve seven-inch reels."

"I'd love to," A

"We need it," Bob Lindy said. To Sebastian he said, "The old guy's talking so fast Cheryl can't really get it down; it's coming out a mile a minute." He added, mystified, "None of the others rattled away like this. They usually just sort of sputter a while and then give up."

Sebastian said, "He wants to be understood." He wants to do, he realized, what I wanted to do--and what I, like the others, gave up trying for. He'll wheedle and pester us until we can get it down. To him it was impressive. And as he let A

"Half an hour," she toId him. And departed; her sharp heels clicked across the pavement; he saw her waving down an aircab and then he shut and locked the door once again.

Dr. Sign, seated in a corner, taking a brief rest, said to him, "I'm surprised, you bringing that girl here."

"She's a girl," Sebastian said, "who incorporated a baby nine months ago and she got me to go to bed with her tonight. She'll bring her tape recorder here, leave it off, and we'll probably never see her again."

The vidphone rang.

Lifting an eyebrow, Sebastian reached for the receiver. Perhaps it was Lotta. "Goodbye," he said, hopefully.

On the screen an unknown man's face formed. "Mr. Hermes?" His voice was slow, extremely methodical. "I'm not going to identify myself because it isn't necessary. My companion and I have this stake-out across the street from your vitarium."

"Oh?" Sebastian said; he made his own voice casual. "So?"

"We photographed the girl when you entered the building with her," the man continued. "The one who just now left by cab. We transmitted the photo to Rome and ran an ident-scan through our archives on it. I have here the info, back from Rome." The man studied a sheet of paper; it obscured his face as he read from it. "Her name's A

"I see," Sebastian said mechanically.

"So they've got to you," the man finished. "You'll have to get the Anarch right out and somewhere else. Before they make a flying-wedge raid on you. The Erads, I mean. Okay, Mr. Hermes?"

"Okay," he said, and hung up.

Presently Dr. Sign said, "Maybe my house."

"Maybe it's hopeless," Sebastian said.

Bob Lindy, who had also listened in on the vidcall, said, "Get the old man into an aircar; we've got three on the roof. _Get him out of here_--move!" His voice rose to a shout.

"You do it," Sebastian said thickly.

Both Dr. Sign and Bob Lindy disappeared into the back; standing inert, Sebastian heard them getting the Anarch out of bed; he heard the Anarch protesting--he wanted to keep dictating--and then he heard them making their way up the stairs to the roof field.

The noise of an aircar motor. Then silence.

Cheryl Vale approached him. "They're gone. The three of them. Do you think--"

"I think," Sebastian said, "that I'm a mouth-hole."

"And with you married," Cheryl said. "To that sweet little girl."

Ignoring her, Sebastian said, "That buyer in Italy. Giacometti. I think he's going to be our customer."

"Yes, you owe them something."

And I was just in bed with her, he thought. An hour ago.

How can anybody do that? Use themselves like that? "You can see," he said, "why Lotta left me." He felt totally futile. And defeated, in a way new to him. Not a conventional defeat, but something intimate and personal; something which reached deep within him, as a man and as a human being.

I will sometime see that woman again, he said to himself. And I will do something to her. In return.

"Go home," he said to Cheryl.

"I intend to." She gathered up her coat and purse, unlocked the door and disappeared out into the night darkness. He was alone.

In one day, he thought, they got to both of us; they got Lotta and then they got me.

He hunted around the store until he found Lindy's gun, left behind, and then he seated himself by the front counter where he could watch the door. Time passed. For this I returned from death, he thought. To do infinite harm in a finite world. He continued to wait.

Twenty minutes later a tap-tap sounded on the front door. He rose, put the gun in his coat pocket, and went stiffly to answer it.

"'Bye," A

"Fine," he said; again he seated himself at the counter. A

After a moment she returned; he sensed her standing by him, tall and lithe, not saying anything.

"He's gone," A

"He never was here. It was faked. For your benefit." He had to play it by ear. Strangely, he felt frightened. Weak and scared.

"I don't get it," A

"We received a tip," he said. "About you."

"Oh?" Her voice sharpened; it underwent a fundamental, almost metabolic change. "Just what did they have to say about me?" He did not answer. "I'd appreciate knowing," A

He said, without looking up, "What did your mother do to my wife at the Library today?"

"Nothing," she said, matter-of-factly; she seated herself in one of the customers' chairs, her legs crossed. Presently she fished out a package of cigaret butts and lit one, inhaling, breathing out, inhaling.

"It was enough," he said, "to cause her to leave me."

"Oh, they got frightened, she and her cop-friend. She didn't leave you because of what mother did; that cop's been trying to get her into bed for months. We know where they are; they're holed up in a motel somewhere in San Fernando."

"As you and I were," he said. "A little while ago."

She had no comment about that; she merely continued smoking: the cigaret grew longer and longer. "So now what?" A