Страница 48 из 51
"You thought you could make a deal."
"Perhaps I did. But not anymore. You were an asset once. You're a danger now."
"You're throwing me to the wolves?"
"That's just what I'm doing. Good day, Mr. Vickers. It was nice knowing you."
Vickers rose from the chair. "I'll see you again."
«That,» said Crawford, "is something I doubt."
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
GOING down in the elevator, Vickers thought furiously.
It would take Crawford half an hour or so to spread the word that he was unprotected, that he was fair game, that anyone could pot him like a sitting duck.
If it had only been himself, it would have been an easy matter, but there was A
A
He had to reach A
At the ground floor he stepped out with the other passengers. As he walked away he saw the operator leave the elevator open and dash for a phone booth.
Reporting me, he thought. There was an analyzer on the elevator and it made some sort of a signal that would go undetected to anyone but the operator. And there were other analyzers everywhere, Crawford had said, in railroad terminals and bus stations and eating places — anywhere that a man might go.
Once one of the analyzers spotted a mutant, the word would be called in somewhere — to an exterminator squad, perhaps — and they would hunt the mutant down. Maybe they spotted him with portable analyzers, or maybe there were other ways to spot him, and once they spotted him it would be all over.
All over because the mutant would not know, because he would have no warning of the death that tracked him. Given a moment's warning, given a moment to concentrate, and he could disappear, as the mutants had disappeared at will when Crawford's men had tried to track them down for interview and parley.
What was it Crawford had said? "You ring the bell and wait. You sit in a room and wait."
But now no one rang a doorbell.
They shot you down from ambush. They struck you in the dark. They knew who you were and they marked you for the death. And you had no chance because you had no warning.
That was the way Eb had died and all the others of them who had died, struck down without a chance because Crawford's men could not afford to give a moment's chance to one who was marked to die.
Except that always before, when Jay Vickers had been spotted, he'd been known as one of the few who were not to be molested — he and A
But now it would be different. Now he was just another mutant, a hunted rat, just like all the others.
He reached the sidewalk outside the building and stood for a moment, looking up and down the street.
A cab, he thought, but there would be an analyzer in a cab. Although, as far as that was concerned, there would be analyzers everywhere. There must be one at A
There was no way in which he could duck the analyzers, no way to hide or prevent them from knowing where he might be going.
He stepped to the sidewalk's edge and hailed a cruising cab. The cab drew up and he stepped inside and gave the driver the address.
The man threw a startled backward look at him.
"Take it easy," said Vickers. "You won't be in any trouble as long as you don't try anything."
The driver did not answer.
Vickers sat hunched on the edge of the seat.
"It's all right, chum," the driver finally told him. "I won't try a thing."
"That's just fine," said Vickers. "Now let's go."
He watched the blocks slide by, keeping an eye on the driver, watching for any motions that might signal that a mutant was in the taxi. He saw none.
A thought struck him. What if they were waiting at A
It was a risk, he decided, he'd have to take.
The cab stopped in front of the building. Vickers opened the door and leaped out. The driver gu
Vickers ran toward the door, ignored the elevator, and went pounding up the stairs.
He reached A
"A
There was no answer.
He went ru
He stood for a moment, sweat breaking out on him.
A
He plunged out the door and went tearing down the stairs.
When he reached the sidewalk, the cars were pulling up, three of them, one behind the other, and there were two more across the Street. Men were piling out of them, men who carried guns.
He tried to swing around to get back into the door again and as he swung he bumped into someone and he saw that it was A
"Jay," she said. "Jay, what's going on? Who are all these men?"
"Quick," he said, "get into my mind. Like you did the others. The way you know how people think."
"But…"
"Quick!"
He felt her come into his mind, groping for his thoughts, fastening onto them.
Something hit the stone wall of the building just above their heads and went tumbling skyward with a howl of tortured metal.
"Hang on," he said. "We're getting out of here."
He closed his eyes and willed himself into the other earth, with all the urgency and will he could muster. He felt the tremor of A
He heard the sound of wind blowing in the trees. He opened his eyes and there were no buildings.
He lay flat on his back, at the foot of a gray granite boulder. A bag of groceries, with the top of a bunch of celery sticking out of it, lay on his stomach.
She shook her head at him. "This is all so strange."
"Not strange," he said. "Just sudden. If we'd had the time I'd told you, but we didn't have the time."
"Jay, they were shooting at us!"
Vickers nodded grimly. "They're gents who play for keeps."
"But they're human beings, Jay. Just like us."
"Not like us," said Vickers. "Only human. That's the trouble with them. Being human in this day isn't quite enough."
He tossed two or three pieces of wood on the campfire. Then he turned to A
"But, Jay, it's getting dark."
"I know. If there's anything on the island, we'll spot it by the lights. Just up on that hill. If we don't see anything, we'll come back. When morning comes we can look again."
"Jay," she said, "in lots of ways, it's just like a picnic."
"I'm no good at riddles. Tell me why it's like a picnic."
"Why, the fire and eating in the open and…"
"Forget it, lady," Vickers told her. "We're not on any picnic."
He moved ahead and she followed close behind him, threading their way between the thickets and the boulders. Night-hawks skimmed the air above them in graceful, insect-catching swoops. From somewhere far off came the wickering of a coon. A few lightning bugs flashed on and off, dancing in the bushes.