The Computer Connection

“You’re too complicated for her, Guig. Put it this way, Mrs. Curzon. I see what everyone else sees, but I think what no one else has thought. Bird, two o’clock, coming over fast. Try to bring yourself to get a few, Guig, to keep up appearances.”

You see? He knew I was missing on purpose. Acute.

“I think I understand,” Natoma said. “My husband told me you were the smartest man in the world.”

“When did he say that?” the Hebe demanded savagely. “I warned you to be careful.”

“He did not say, Mr. Hillel. He wrote a note. We have been mostly talking by note.”

“Thank God.” Hilly was relieved. “For a moment I thought I’d had the schlep out here for nothing.”

“But is being an Induction a profession, Mr. Hillel? How?”

“I’ll give you an example, Nat,” I said. “He was in a dealer’s gallery in Vie

“It ended abruptly at two edges,” Hilly explained. “Bad composition.”

“Then he remembered another Monet he’d seen in Texas. In his mind’s eye he put edges together. Two of them fitted exactly.”

“I don’t understand yet,” Natoma said.

“It’s a crooked practice of art dealers to take a large canvas by a high-priced painter, cut it up into pieces, and sell each piece as a complete work.”

“That’s not honest.”

“But very profitable. Well, Hilly went on a treasure hunt, found and bought the rest of the pieces, and had the original Monet restored.”

“Also v. profitable?”

The Hebe laughed. “Y, but that wasn’t the real motive. Actually it was a case of being unable to resist the challenge. I never can.”

“And that’s why you’re here, Hilly,” I said.

“There, love. He’s as smart as he thinks I am. Perhaps more so.”

“But always too flippant.”

“So I have noticed over the years. He refuses to dedicate himself to anything; he prefers to make jokes. Gottenu! If he would only be serious as life requires now and then, what a tremendous man he would become.”

I resented that and took it out on a chicken at eight o’clock.

“Give me the gun,” Hilly said. He potted four more in quick succession. “That ought to keep the Extro from asking questions. Now let’s get down to business.”

“First, how do you know about the business?” I asked.

“Induction by the Inductor. I was in GM City on the trail of a vintage Edsel when I got word from Volk — he’s a dealer in rare coins and stamps in Orleans — to come quick. He’d located a strip of six British Guiana one-cent stamps of 1856. All still attached. Uncanceled.”

“I didn’t know they made stamps that far back.”

“They didn’t make many, which is why one 1856 Guiana is priceless. A hundred thousand easy. A strip of six attached and uncanceled is worth — oh, as much as you are.”

“What! Collectors are crazy.”

“R. I was immediately suspicious and requested confirmation of the message. Radex confirmed. I sent an inquiry to Volk. No reply. I asked Radex for confirmation of delivery. Confirmed. So I split for Orleans and saw Volk. He denied everything and I knew I was on the track of something.”

“What made you suspicious in the first place, Hilly?”

“Back in those primitive days they engraved and printed stamps in batches of sixteen, four by four. A strip of six was ip. fac. phony.”

“My God! Talk about acutedom.”

“When I got back to GM I was thinking that maybe another collector was trying to spook me off the trail of the Edsel. Then Radex sent an apology and a refund. Mistake in transmission. It should have read sixteen 1856 British Guiana stamps, not six. Now my blood began to boil.”

“On what grounds?”

“Volk and I had our conversation alone in his atelier. No one was there, but we were overheard.”

“Volk is bugged.”

“No doubt, but what the hell do the polizei know or care about rare stamps?”

“The price.”

“Never mentioned.”

“Um.”

“We were overheard by something else and it was trying to cover up a bungle. A third attempt was made to lure me out of GM, but I won’t go into details. It was a challenge I couldn’t resist. I did what the cossack couldn’t do — tracked down the Group, all dispersed by fake messages.”

“Why?”

“Later. I found out about the Extro network, Dr. Guess, and the whole damned lunatic conspiracy.”

“The Group knows?”

“More or less. I got the hard data from Poulos.”

“Where is he? Also dispersed?”

“No, trying to track down the renegade. Yes, the Greek told me about that and I agree with his assumption. It’s a dangerous mishmash. Crucial. He or she has got to be destroyed before the Group is destroyed. No one of us alone is a match for him, and that’s why I think he had the Group scattered — to pick us off one by one.”

“Any idea who it might be?”

“Not a clue. We’ve got an average proportion of rotten members. Take your pick.”

“Just one thing. Are you saying the Extro can make mistakes?”

“I thought you were above blind computer worship, Guig. Yes, they can make mistakes and so can the Extro’s collaborator, Dr. Guess. Even between them they can make mistakes, and that’s how we’re going to find Guess and his three freaks. What d’you think, Guig? Are they equipped with a putz and a twibby? Both?”

“I don’t know, Hilly, and I don’t want to find out. It gives me the chills.”

“When we locate Guess we’ll find out. Now, we have a three-pronged attack. Guess and the capsule are hiding out somewhere here on Earth.”

“They might be in orbit.”

“Not a chance.”

“Expound.”

“He lofted the capsule out of U-Con after it killed your girl. Houdini and Valentine took off. You were in shock. The capsule went up and nobody noticed.”

“Into orbit?”

“How? He needed a rocket vehicle for that and he had none. The capsule must have gone up as far as repulsion would take it and then drifted.”

“Why not fall down?” Natoma asked.

“It had gas jets to maintain attitude in space. Evidently they were enough to keep it up and take it to wherever Guess wanted it. So he’s on Earth somewhere. Now the three prongs. Mrs. Curzon, you will inquire about your famous and distinguished brother everywhere. You love him and you’re worried about his disappearance.”

“I am, Mr. Hillel.”

“I believe you and so will everyone else. You will make a pest of yourself. Force people to avoid you as the plague. Send constant messages to Guig reporting progress.”

“But if there is none?”

“Then use your imagination. We can send fake messages, too. Everything you do will reach your brother by the network. It may draw him out to reassure you.”

“I understand. I hope so.”

“Guig, yours is more technical. How much gas was available in the capsule? How far would it take it? You’d—”

“It had full tanks of compressed helium.”

“Hmm. Anyway, you’d better diagram that. Check UFO sightings and reports; a space capsule is an unusual sight here on Earth. Dr. Guess will need power to maintain the capsule pressure and refrigeration. If it’s under cover, the solar vanes can’t charge the batteries. Check every energy source within your plot for a new demand or drain. And here’s a tricky one. What if the cryonauts develop no further than infancy? Mature in body; infantile in mind.”

“My God! I never thought of that.”

“No one else did.”

Natoma said, “Boris told us he was reborn with all skills after CNA-Drone.”

“DNA-Clone, darling.”

“Thank you, Glig.”

“Not the same thing, Mrs. Curzon,” Hilly said. “Guess will have to train and educate them, first of all in speech. Check every supplier of educational modes for retarded children who are autistic. Address of every order received in the past month. It’s a drag, I know.”

I shrugged that off. “And the third prong?”

“Mine. The hardest of all. Why were three separate attempts made to get me out of GM?”