Protector

“Oh. And the terms are that I shouldn’t try to find out who Mr. Vandervecken is.”

“Roughly, yes. It’s all spelled out quite fully in a message which—”

“I have it.”

He hung up. And pondered. Two thousand a year, for life. And it was real. It was hardly a living, but it would make a nice addition to his salary. Already he had thought of half a dozen ways to use the first few checks. He might try a different job…

Two thousand a year. It was an exorbitant price to pay for four months of labor. Most kinds of labor. What had he done with those four months?

And how had Vandervecken known it would be enough?

I probably told him myself, Truesdale thought bitterly. Self-betrayal. At least he hadn’t lied. Five hundred every three months, to put a touch of luxury in his life… and he would wonder for the rest of his life. But he would not go to the police.

He could not remember ever having suffered such a case of mixed emotions.

Presently he began listening to the other messages stored in his phone.

“But you did,” said the ARM lieutenant. “You’re here.” He was a square-jawed, brawny man with eyes that did not believe. A close look into those eyes and you, too, would doubt whatever you had been telling him.

Truesdale shrugged.

“What changed your mind?”

“Money again. I started going through the messages in my phone. There was another message from a different legal firm. Do you know the name Mrs. Jacob Randall?”

“No. Wait a minute. Estelle Randall? President of the Struldbrugs’ Club until — um.”

“She was my great-to-the-fourth grandmother.”

“And she died last month. My condolences.”

“Thanks. I, I — see. I didn’t see Greatly ’Stelle that often. Maybe twice a year, once at her birthday party, once at a christening or whatever. I remember we had lunch together a few days after I found out I’d lost all my money. She was mad. Oh, boy. She offered to refinance me, but I turned her down.”

“Pride? It could happen to anyone. Lawrence St. John McGee practices an old and polished profession.”

“I know.”

“She was the oldest woman in the world.”

“I know.” The presidency of the Struldbrugs’ Club went to the oldest living member. It was an honorary title; the Acting President usually did the work. “She was a hundred and seventy-three when I was born. The thing is, none of us ever expected her to die. I suppose that sounds silly?”

“No. How many people die at two hundred and ten?”

“Then I played that tape from Becket and Hollingsbrooke and she was dead! And I’ve inherited about half a million marks, out of a fortune that must be unbelievable. She’s got enough great-to-the-Nth grandchildren to take over any nation in the world. You should have seen the birthday parties.”

“I see.” The ARM’s eyes looked deep into him. “So you don’t need Vandervecken’s money now. Two thousand a year is peanuts now.”

“And the son of a bitch made me miss her birthday.”

The ARM leaned back. “You tell a strange story. I never heard of any kind of amnesia that left no memory at all.”

“I haven’t either. It was as if I went to sleep and woke up four months later.”

“But you don’t even remember going to sleep.”

“That’s right.”

“A stun gun could do that… Well, we’ll put you under deep hypnosis and see what we come up with. I don’t suppose you have any objections? You’ll have to file some permission forms.”

“Fine.”

“You, ah, may not like what we find out.”

“I know.” Truesdale was already bracing himself against what he could find out. The voice had been his own. What had he been afraid to remember about himself?

“If you committed any crime during that period you can’t remember, you may have to pay the penalty. It’s not that useful an alibi.”

“I’ll risk it.”

“Okay.”

“You think I’m faking this?”

“The thought crossed my mind. We’ll find out.”

“Okay, snap out of it,” said a Voice. And Truesdale snapped out of it like a man awakened too suddenly, dreams dying in his mind.

The Voice was Doctor Michaela Shorter, a broad-shouldered black woman in a loose blue business jumper. She said, “How do you feel?”

“Fine,” said Truesdale. “What luck?”

“It’s very peculiar. You not only don’t remember anything during those four months; you didn’t even sense time passing. You didn’t dream.”

The ARM lieutenant was off to the side, where Truesdale didn’t notice him until he spoke. “Do you know of any drugs that would do that?”

The woman shook her head.

“Doctor Shorter is an expert at forensic medicine,” the lieutenant said to Truesdale. “It sounds like somebody’s thought of something new.” To Doctor Shorter he said, “It could be something really new. Would you do some computer work?”

“I did,” she said shortly. “Anyway, no drug could be that selective. It’s as if he’d been stu

“I wasn’t.” Tmesdale stood up. “Whatever was done to me, it would take a laboratory, wouldn’t it? If it was that new. That’ll narrow the search a bit, won’t it?”

“It should,” said Doctor Shorter. “I’d look for a byproduct of genetic research. Something that decomposes RNA.”

The ARM lieutenant growled, “You’d think snatching you off a mountain would leave some traces too, but it didn’t. A car would have been spotted by radar. Vandervecken must have had you carried down to the parking lot on a stretcher, around oh four hundred, when there wouldn’t be anyone around.”

“That’d be goddam dangerous, on those paths.”

“I know. Have you got a better answer?”

“Haven’t you learned anything?”

“The money. Your car stayed in the parking lot because the parking fee was paid in advance. So was your a

“Figures.

“Does the name mean anything to you?”

“No. Probably Dutch.”

The ARM nodded to himself. He stood up. Doctor Shorter was looking impatient to get her examining room back.

Half a million marks was a lot of money. Truesdale played with the idea of telling his boss to go to Hell… but, despite tradition, Jeromy Link didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. No point in sticking him for an emergency replacement. Truesdale gave Jeromy a month’s notice.

Because it was temporary, his job became more pleasant. A shoe clerk… but he met some interesting people that way. One day he took a hard look at the machinery that molded shoes around human feet. Remarkable, admirable widgetry. He’d never realized it before.

In his off hours he was pla

He resumed acquaintance with numberless relatives when Greatly ’Stelle’s will was executed. Some had missed him at her funeral and at her last birthday party. Where had he been?

“Damndest thing,” said Truesdale — and he had to tell the story half a dozen times that evening. He took a perverse delight in doing so. “Vandervecken” hadn’t wanted publicity.

His delight was punctured when a second-cousin-in-law said, “So you were robbed again. You seem to be robbery-prone, Roy.”

“Not any more. This time I’m going to get the son of a bitch,” said Truesdale.

The day before his backpacking trip began, he stopped in at ARM Headquarters. He had trouble remembering the brawny ARM lieutenant’s name. Robinson, that was it. Robinson nodded at him from behind a boomerang desk and said, “Come on in. You enjoying life?”