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After being told to stay in his apartment until he heard from
Paz, Tingle went upstairs. He called the Department of Repairs and Plumbing and ordered a new
code-lock installed. He was told that that could not be done until tomorrow. That is, next Wednesday.
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Tingle canceled the order. He called Paz, who was beginning to sound cross and harassed. Paz said that
he would send someone to install a new lock within the hour. It was not wise to bring DORAP in. It
might investigate the matter, and how could he explain the damage? The corpspersons would realize that
only a charged-particle weapon could have burned through the lock. Tingle said that he knew that, but
most corpspeople he had met were not inquisitive about the cause of the damage. They were required by
law to record the cause, but that was usually as far as the matter went. Unless some high official got
nosey.
"This is getting worse and worse," Paz said. "I hope you don't have any more difficulties~"
"I don't make them," Tingle said, and he cut Paz off. Paz was beginning to sound as if he were at the
cracking point or perilously close. Perhaps the immer council should be told to watch Paz closely for
signs of emotional instability. The trouble with that was that he would have to send the suggestion through
Paz. No. He could do that through his Thursday superior, who would see to it that Thursday's council got
word. It would then transmit the suggestion to Wednesday's. But that council would not know about it
until it was destoned on Wednesday.
Tingle shrugged. He was not so calm and relaxed and in control of himself. Who was he to throw
stones at Paz?
He went into the bathroom and turned up the power on his watch so that he could hear it above the
shower water. The bathroom door was locked, and his weapon lay on a rack to one side of the shower.
Though he did not think that Castor would return, he was not going to be careless.
Then he heard a shrilling and saw orange flashing. He swore. The sound and light came, not from his
watch, but from the
strip on the wall opposite the shower cubicle. The soap slipped out of his hands. He started to pick it up,
clianged his mind, turned the water off, and pulled the shower door back. Who could it be? Nokomis? If
she came home early for some reason, he would have a hard time getting away from her to call Paz.
He felt the soap under his foot, and he fell backward.
When he awoke, he was in a hospital bed. Nokomis' broad but beautiful face hung above him.
"No, I'm not going to be careless," he muttered.
Nokomis said, "What did you say, dear?"
His mind felt jellied, though not so much that he could not understand her when she told him what had
happened. She had been called from the stage during a crucial point in the rehearsal. But he was not to
worry about it. He was far more important to her than her career. The producer and most of the cast
were furious with her, but he was not to be disturbed by that. To hell with them. The hospital had called
her, and she had rushed down in a taxi. And she was so happy that he had not been killed.
However, she was puzzled because, so the hospital said, it had gotten an anonymous call. The
anonym had spoken through a strainer, which removed all possibility of identifying the caller by a
voiceprint. After saying that Tingle was unconscious in his shower, the caller gave the address and turned
off the strip. When the paramedics got to the apartment, they found the door unlocked-she said nothing
about the lock mechanism-and Tingle was lying senseless in the shower. The whole thing was so strange.
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By the time she was through, Nokomis looked more suspicious than concerned. Tingle said that all
he knew was that he had slipped on a bar of soap.
The attendants brought up a machine and subjected him to various tests. After a while, a doctor
came in and read the results. He told Tingle that he had no serious injury and that he could go home as
soon as he felt strong enough. However,
a few minutes later two organics came to question him. Tingle repeated what he had told Nokomis. They
looked grave, and one said that he would see Tingle again next Wednesday.
After they had left, Tingle groaned. When Wednesday rolled around, he would be questioned again.
If he did not have an explanation to satisfy the organics, and he probably would not, he would be given
the ultimate inquisition. Truth mist would be sprayed at him, and, after he had breathed that, he could not
lie. He would tell the organics all that they asked.
And he and the other immers would humpty-dumpty into utter ruin.
"One bad thing after another, each worse than the one before it!" he muttered.
"What, dear?" Nokomis said.
"Nothing important."
Fortunately, Nokomis had to go to the toilet. While she was gone, he called Paz again, and Paz
cursed again.
"Quit it!" Tingle said sharply. "My wife'll be back in a minute! What happened to me?"
Paz settled down and rapped out an explanation. The agent who had come to repair the doorlock
had found him in the shower. He had put the weapon in his own shoulderbag and had then called the
hospital. Tingle quickly told Paz about the organics and the inevitable interrogation. Paz said, "That can
be avoided, I think. I'll pass on the message. What a mess!"
He paused, then said, his voice very low and soft, "Bob, I've got even more bad news."
Tingle said, "Wait! I hear my wife!"
He listened for a few seconds, then said, "Tell it quick. She's stopped in the hall to talk to
somebody."
"I got a recording," Paz said. "From yesterday. It said I should tell you that Ozma Wang is dead. I
don't know what that means, but . .
"God!" Tingle said. Then, "I think my wife's about to come in. I'll talk to you later."
He cut off the transmission and put his arm down by his side. He felt something quiver inside him, a
thing struggling to get loose and ravage him. It was, he knew, grief, but it was deep within him, far away.
It had to be Jeff Caird's grief for the death of his wife.
Nokomis entered the room, stopped, and said, "Were you talking to somebody?"
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"No. Why?" he said. The thing that was struggling in him was quieting down now.
"I saw your watch close to your mouth. You must . .
"No, I wasn't talking to anybody. I just happened to be wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]