Дик Филип. Платежное поручение(engl)

freight lift rose to meet them from the bowels of the building. "You're
going down below. How many of you have experience with drills?"
A few hands went up.
"You can show the others. We are moving earth with drills and eaters.
Any of you work eaters?"
No hands. Jennings glanced at the worktables. Had he worked here, not
so long ago? A sudden chill went through him. Suppose he were recognized?
Maybe he had worked with these very mechanics.
"Come on," the foreman said impatiently. "Hurry up."
Jennings got into the freight lift with the others. A moment later they
began to descend, down the black tube. Down, down, into the lower levels of
the Plant. Rethrick Construction was big, a lot bigger than it looked above
ground. A lot bigger than he had imagined. Floors, underground levels,
flashing past one after the other.
The elevator stopped. The doors opened. He was looking down a long
corridor. The floor was thick with stone dust. The air was moist. Around
him, the workmen began to crowd out. Suddenly Jennings stiffened, pulling
back.
At the end of the corridor before a steel door, was Earl Rethrick.
Talking to a group of technicians.
"All out," the foreman said. "Let's go."
Jennings left the elevator, keeping behind the others. Rethrick! His
heart beat dully. If Rethrick saw him he was finished. He felt in his
pockets. He had a miniature Boris gun, but it wouldn't be much use if he was
discovered. Once Rethrick saw him it would be all over.
"Down this way." The foreman led them toward what seemed to be an
underground railway, to one side of the corridor. The men were getting into
metal cars along a track. Jennings watched Rethrick. He saw him gesture
angrily, his voice coming faintly down the hall. Suddenly Rethrick turned.
He held up his hand and the great steel door behind him opened.
Jennings's heart almost stopped beating.
There, beyond the steel door, was the time scoop. He recognized it at
once. The mirror. The long metal rods, ending in claws. Like Berkowsky's
theoretical model -- only this was real.
Rethrick went into the room, the technicians following behind him. Men
were working at the scoop, standing all around it. Part of the shield was
off. They were digging into the works. Jennings stared, hanging back.
"Say you --" the foreman said, coming toward him. The steel door shut.
The view was cut off. Rethrick, the scoop, the technicians, were gone.
"Sorry," Jennings murmured.
"You know you're not supposed to be curious around here." The foreman
was studying him intently. "I don't remember you. Let me see your tab."
"My tab?"
"Your identification tab." The foreman turned away. "Bill, bring me the
board." He looked Jennings up and down. "I'm going to check you from the
board, mister. I've never seen you in the crew before. Stay here." A man was
coming from a side door with a check board in his hands.
It was now or never.
Jennings sprinted, down the corridor, toward the great steel door.
Behind there was a startled shout, the foreman and his helper. Jennings
whipped out the code key, praying fervently as he ran. He came up to the
door, holding out the key. With the other hand he brought out the Boris gun.
Beyond the door was the time scoop. A few photographs, some schematics
snatched up, and then, if he could get out --
The door did not move. Sweat leaped out on his face. He knocked the key
against the door. Why didn't it open? Surely -- He began to shake, panic
rising up in him. Down the corridor people were coming, racing after him.
Open --
But the door did not open. The key he held in his hand was the wrong
key.
He was defeated. The door and the key did not match. Either he had been
wrong, or the key was to be used someplace else. But where? Jennings looked
frantically around. Where? Where could he go?
To one side a door was half open, a regular bolt-lock door. He crossed
the corridor, pushing it open. He was in a storeroom of some sort. He
slammed the door, throwing the bolt. He could hear them outside, confused,
calling for guards. Soon armed guards would be along. Jennings held the
Boris gun tightly, gazing around. Was he trapped? Was there a second way
out?
He ran through the room, pushing among bales and boxes, towering stacks
of silent cartons, end on end. At the rear was an emergency hatch. He opened
it immediately. An impulse came to throw the code key away. What good had it
been? But surely he had known what he was doing. He had already seen all
this. Like God, it had already happened for him. Predetermined. He could not
err. Or could he?
A chill went through him. Maybe the future was variable. Maybe this had
been the right key, once. But not any more!
There were sounds behind him. They were melting the storeroom door.
Jennings scrambled through the emergency hatch, into a low concrete passage,
damp and ill lit. He ran quickly along it, turning corners. It was like a
sewer. Other passages ran into it, from all sides.
He stopped. Which way? Where could he hide? The mouth of a major vent
pipe gaped above his head. He caught hold and pulled himself up. Grimly, he
eased his body onto it. They'd ignore a pipe, go on past. He crawled
cautiously down the pipe. Warm air blew into his face. Why such a big vent?
It implied an unusual chamber at the other end. He came to a metal grill and
stopped.
And gasped.
He was looking into the great room, the room he had glimpsed beyond the
steel door. Only now he was at the other end. There was the time scoop. And
far down, beyond the scoop, was Rethrick, conferring at an active vidscreen.
An alarm was sounding, whining shrilly, echoing everywhere. Technicians were
running in all directions. Guards in uniform poured in and out of doors.
The scoop. Jennings examined the grill. It was slotted in place. He
moved it laterally and it fell into his hands. No one was watching. He slid
cautiously out, into the room, the Boris gun ready. He was fairly hidden
behind the scoop, and the technicians and guards were all the way down at
the other end of the room, where he had first seen them.
And there it was, all around him, the schematics, the mirror, papers,
data, blueprints. He flicked his camera on. Against his chest the camera
vibrated, film moving through it. He snatched up a handful of schematics.
Perhaps he had used these very diagrams, a few weeks before!
He stuffed his pockets with papers. The film came to an end. But he was
finished. He squeezed back into the vent, pushing through the mouth and down
the tube. The sewerlike corridor was still empty, but there was an insistent
drumming sound, the noise of voices and footsteps. So many passages -- They
were looking for him in a maze of escape corridors.
Jennings ran swiftly. He ran on and on, without regard to direction,
trying to keep along the main corridor. On all sides passages flocked off,
one after another, countless passages. He was dropping down, lower and
lower. Running downhill.
Suddenly he stopped, gasping. The sound behind him had died away for a
moment. But there was a new sound, ahead. He went along slowly. The corridor
twisted, turning to the right. He advanced slowly, the Boris gun ready.
Two guards were standing a little way ahead, lounging and talking
together. Beyond them was a heavy code door. And behind him the sound of
voices were coming again, growing louder. They had found the same passage he
had taken. They were on the way.
Jennings stepped out, the Boris gun raised. "Put up your hands. Let go
of your guns."
The guards gawked at him. Kids, boys with cropped blond hair and shiny
uniforms. They moved back, pale and scared.
"The guns. Let them fall."
The two rifles clattered down. Jennings smiled. Boys. Probably this was
their first encounter with trouble. Their leather boots shone, brightly
polished.
"Open the door," Jennings said. "I want through."
They stared at him. Behind, the noise grew.
"Open it." He became impatient. "Come on." He waved the pistol. "Open
it, damn it! Do you want me to --"
"We -- we can't."
"What?"
"We can't. It's a code door. We don't have the key. Honest, mister.
They don't let us have the key." They were frightened. Jennings felt fear
himself now. Behind him the drumming was louder. He was trapped, caught.
Or was he?
Suddenly he laughed. He walked quickly up to the door. "Faith," he
murmured, raising his hand. "That's something you should never lose."
"What -- what's that?"
"Faith in yourself. Self-confidence."
The door slid back as he held the code key against it. Blinding
sunlight streamed in, making him blink. He held the gun steady. He was
outside, at the gate. Three guards gaped in amazement at the gun. He was at
the gate -- and beyond lay the woods.
"Get out of the way." Jennings fired at the metal bars of the gate. The
metal burst into flame, melting, a cloud of fire rising.
"Stop him!" From behind, men came pouring, guards, out of the corridor.
Jennings leaped through the smoking gate. The metal tore at him,
searing him. He ran through the smoke, rolling and falling. He got to his
feet and scurried on, into the trees.
He was outside. He had not let him down. The key had worked, all right.
He had tried it first on the wrong door.
On and on he ran, sobbing for breath, pushing through the trees. Behind
him the Plant and the voices fell away. He had the papers. And he was free.

He found Kelly and gave her the film and everything he had managed to
stuff into his pockets. Then he changed back to his regular clothes. Kelly
drove him to the edge of Stuartsville and left him off. Jennings watched the
cruiser rise up into the air, heading toward New York. Then he went into
town and boarded the Intercity rocket.
On the flight he slept, surrounded by dozing businessmen. When he awoke
the rocket was settling down, landing at the huge New York spaceport.
Jennings got off, mixing with the flow of people. Now that he was back
there was the danger of being picked up by the SP again. Two security
officers in their green uniforms watched him impassively as he took a taxi
at the field station. The taxi swept him into downtown traffic. Jennings
wiped his brow. That was close. Now, to find Kelly.
He ate dinner at a small restaurant, sitting in the back away from the
windows. When he emerged the sun was beginning to set. He walked slowly
along the sidewalk, deep in thought.
So far so good. He had got the papers and film, and he had got away.
The trinkets had worked every step along the way. Without them he would have
been helpless. He felt in his pocket. Two left. The serrated half poker
chip, and the parcel receipt. He took the receipt out, examining it in the
fading evening light.
Suddenly he noticed something. The date on it was today's date. He had
caught up with the slip.
He put it away, going on. What did it mean? What was it for? He
shrugged. He would know, in time. And the half poker chip. What the hell was
it for? No way to tell. In any case, he was certain to get through. He had
got him by, up to now. Surely there wasn't much left.
He came to Kelly's apartment house and stopped, looking up. Her light
was on. She was back; her fast little cruiser had beaten the Intercity
rocket. He entered the elevator and rose to her floor.
"Hello," he said, when she opened the door.
"You're all right?"
"Sure. Can I come in?"
He went inside. Kelly closed the door behind him. "I'm glad to see you.
The city's swarming with SP men. Almost every block. And the patrols --"
"I know. I saw a couple at the spaceport." Jennings sat down on the
couch. "It's good to be back, though."
"I was afraid they might stop all the Intercity flights and check
through the passengers."
"They have no reason to assume I'd be coming into the city."
"I didn't think of that." Kelly sat down across from him. "Now, what
comes next? Now that you have got away with the material, what are you going
to do?"
"Next I meet Rethrick and spring the news on him. The news that the
person who escaped from the Plant was myself. He knows that someone got
away, but he doesn't know who it was. Undoubtedly, he assumes it was an SP
man."
"Couldn't he use the time mirror to find out?"
A shadow crossed Jennings' face. "That's so. I didn't think of that."
He rubbed his jaw, frowning. "In any case, I have the material. Or, you have
the material."
Kelly nodded.
"All right. We'll go ahead with our plans. Tomorrow we'll see Rethrick.
We'll see him here, in New York. Can you get him down to the Office? Will he
come if you send for him?"
"Yes. We have a code. If I ask him to come, he'll come."
"Fine. I'll meet him there. When he realizes that we have the picture
and schematics he'll have to agree to my demands. He'll have to let me into
Rethrick Construction, on my own terms. It's either that, or face the
possibility of having the material turned over to the Security Police."
"And once you're in? Once Rethrick agrees to your demands?"
"I saw enough at the Plant to convince me that Rethrick is far bigger
than I had realized. How big, I don't know. No wonder he was so interested!"
"You're going to demand equal control of the Company?"
Jennings nodded.
"You would never be satisfied to go back as a mechanic, would you? The
way you were before."
"No. To get booted out again?" Jennings smiled. "Anyhow, I know he
intended better things than that. He laid careful plans. The trinkets. He
must have planned everything long in advance. No, I'm not going back as a
mechanic. I saw a lot there, level after level of machines and men. They're
doing something. And I want to be in on it."
Kelly was silent.
"See?" Jennings said.
"I see."
He left the apartment, hurrying along the dark street. He had stayed
there too long. If the SP found the two of them together it would be all up
with Rethrick Construction. He could take no chances, with the end almost in
sight.
He looked at his watch. It was past midnight. He would meet Rethrick
this morning, and present him with the proposition. His spirits rose as he
walked. He would be safe. More than safe. Rethrick Construction was aiming
at something far larger than mere industrial power. What he had seen had
convinced him that a revolution was brewing. Down in the many levels below
the ground, down under the fortress of concrete, guarded by guns and armed
men, Rethrick was planning a war. Machines were being turned out. The time
scoop and the mirror were hard at work, watching, dipping, extracting.
No wonder he had worked out such careful plans. He had seen all this
and understood, begun to ponder. The problem of the mind cleaning. His
memory would be gone when he was released. Destruction of all the plans.
Destruction? There was the alternate clause in the contract. Others had
seen it, used it. But not the way he intended!
He was after much more than anyone who had come before. He was the
first to understand, to plan. The seven trinkets were a bridge to something
beyond anything that --
At the end of the block an SP cruiser pulled up to the curb. Its doors
slid open.
Jennings stopped, his heart constricting. The night patrol, roaming
through the city. It was after eleven, after curfew. He looked quickly
around. Everything was dark. The stores and houses were shut up tight,
locked for the night. Silent apartment houses, buildings. Even the bars were
dark.
He looked back the way he had come. Behind him, a second SP cruiser had
stopped. Two SP officers had stepped out onto the curb. They had seen him.
They were coming toward him. He stood frozen, looking up and down the
street.
Across from him was the entrance of a swank hotel, its neon sign
glimmering. He began to walk toward it, his heels echoing against the
pavement.
"Stop!" one of the SP men called. "Come back here. What are you doing
out? What's your --"
Jennings went up the stairs, into the hotel. He crossed the lobby. The
clerk was staring at him. No one else was around. The lobby was deserted.
His heart sank. He didn't have a chance. He began to run aimlessly, past the
desk, along a carpeted hall. Maybe it led out some back way. Behind him, the
SP men had already entered the lobby.
Jennings turned a corner. Two men stepped out, blocking his way.
"Where are you going?"
He stopped, wary. "Let me by." He reached into his coat for the Boris
gun. At once the men moved.
"Get him."
His arms were pinned to his sides. Professional hoods. Past them he
could see light. Light and sound. Some kind of activity. People.
"All right," one of the hoods said. They dragged him back along the
corridor, toward the lobby. Jennings struggled futilely. He had entered a
blind alley. Hoods, a joint. The city was dotted with them, hidden in the
darkness. The swank hotel a front. They would toss him out, into the hands
of the SP.
Some people came along the halls, a man and a woman. Older people. Well
dressed. They gazed curiously at Jennings, suspended between the two men.
Suddenly Jennings understood. A wave of relief hit him, blinding him.
"Wait," he said thickly. "My pocket."
"Come on."
"Wait. Look. My right pocket. Look for yourselves."
He relaxed, waiting. The hood on his right reached, dipping cautiously
into the pocket. Jennings smiled. It was over. He had seen even this. There
was no possibility of failure. This solved one problem: where to stay until
it was time to meet Rethrick. He could stay here.
The hood brought out the half poker chip, examining the serrated edges.
"Just a second." From his own coat he took a matching chip, fitting on a
gold chain. He touched the edges together.
"All right?" Jennings said.
"Sure." They let him go. He brushed off his coat automatically. "Sure,
mister. Sorry. Say, you should have --"
"Take me in the back," Jennings said, wiping his face. "Some people are
looking for me. I don't particularly want them to find me."
"Sure." They led him back, into the gambling rooms. The half chip had
turned what might have been a disaster into an asset. A gambling and girl
joint. One of the few institutions the Police left alone. He was safe. No
question of that. Only one thing remained. The struggle with Rethrick!

Rethrick's face was hard. He gazed at Jennings, swallowing rapidly.
"No," he said. "I didn't know it was you. We thought it was the SP."
There was silence. Kelly sat at the chair by her desk, her legs
crossed, a cigarette between her fingers. Jennings leaned against the door,
his arms folded.
"Why didn't you use the mirror?" he said.
Rethrick's face flickered. "The mirror? You did a good job, my friend.
We tried to use the mirror."
"Tried?"
"Before you finished your term with us you changed a few leads inside
the mirror. When we tried to operate it nothing happened. I left the plant
half an hour ago. They were still working on it."
"I did that before I finished my two years?"
"Apparently you had worked out your plans in detail. You know that with
the mirror we would have no trouble tracking you down. You're a good
mechanic, Jennings. The best we ever had. We'd like to have you back,
sometime. Working for us again. There's not one of us that can operate the
mirror the way you could. And right now, we can't use it at all."
Jennings smiled. "I had no idea he did anything like that. I
underestimated him. His protection was even --"
"Who are you talking about?"
"Myself. During the two years. I use the objective. It's easier."
"Well, Jennings. So the two of you worked out an elaborate plan to
steal our schematics. Why? What's the purpose? You haven't turned them over
to the Police."
"No."
"Then I can assume it's blackmail."
"That's right."
"What for? What do you want?" Rethrick seemed to have aged. He slumped,
his eyes small and glassy, rubbing his chin nervously. "You went to a lot of
trouble to get us into this position. I'm curious why. While you were
working for us you laid the groundwork. Now you've completed it, in spite of
our precautions."
"Precautions?"
"Erasing your mind. Concealing the Plant."
"Tell him," Kelly said. "Tell him why you did it."
Jennings took a deep breath. "Rethrick, I did it to get back in. Back
to the Company. That's the only reason. No other."
Rethrick stared at him. "To get back into the Company? You can come
back in. I told you that." His voice was thin and sharp, edged with strain.
"What's the matter with you? You can come back in. For as long as you want
to stay."
"As a mechanic."
"Yes. As a mechanic. We employ many --"
"I don't want to come back as a mechanic. I'm not interested in working
for you. Listen, Rethrick. The SP picked me up as soon as I left this
Office. If it hadn't been for him I'd be dead."
"They picked you up?"
"They wanted to know what Rethrick Construction does. They wanted me to
tell them."
Rethrick nodded. "That's bad. We didn't know that."
"No, Rethrick. I'm not coming in as an employee you can toss out any
time it pleases you. I'm coming in with you, not for you."
"With me?" Rethrick stared at him. Slowly a film settled over his face,
an ugly hard film. "I don't understand what you mean."
"You and I are going to run Rethrick Construction together. That'll be
the way, from now on. And no one will be burning my memory out, for their
own safety."
"That's what you want?"
"Yes."
"And if we don't cut you in?"
"Then the schematics and films go to the SP. It's as simple as that.
But I don't want to. I don't want to destroy the Company. I want to get into
the Company! I want to be safe. You don't know what it's like, being out
there, with no place to go. An individual has no place to turn to, anymore.
No one to help him. He's caught between two ruthless forces, a pawn between
political and economic powers. And I'm tired of being a pawn."
For a long time Rethrick said nothing. He stared down at the floor, his
face dull and blank. At last he looked up. "I know it's that way. That's
something I've known for a long time. Longer than you have. I'm a lot older
than you. I've seen it come, grow that way, year after year. That's why
Rethrick Construction exists. Someday, it'll be all different. Someday, when
we have the scoop and the mirror finished. When the weapons are finished."
Jennings said nothing.
"I know very well how it is! I'm an old man. I've been working a long
time. When they told me someone had got out of the Plant with schematics, I
thought the end had come. We already knew you had damaged the mirror. We
knew there was a connection, but we had parts figured wrong.
"We thought, of course, that Security had planted you with us, to find
out what we were doing. Then, when you realized you couldn't carry out your
information, you damaged the mirror. With the mirror damaged, SP could go
ahead and --"
He stopped, rubbing his cheek.
"Go on," Jennings said.
"So you did this alone. . . Blackmail. To get into the Company. You
don't know what the Company is for, Jennings! How dare you try to come in!
We've been working and building for a long time. You'd wreck us, to save
your hide. You'd destroy us, just to save yourself."
"I'm not wrecking you. I can be a lot of help."
"I run the Company alone. It's my Company. I made it, put it together.
It's mine."
Jennings laughed. "And what happens when you die? Or is the revolution
going to come in your own lifetime?"
Rethrick's head jerked up.
"You'll die, and there won't be anyone to go on. You know I'm a good
mechanic. You said so yourself. You're a fool, Rethrick. You want to manage
it all yourself. Do everything, decide everything. But you'll die, someday.
And then what will happen?"
There was silence.
"You better let me in -- for the Company's good, as well as my own. I
can do a lot for you. When you're gone the Company will survive in my hands.
And maybe the revolution will work."
"You should be glad you're alive at all! If we hadn't allowed you to
take your trinkets out with you --"
"What else could you do? How could you let men service your mirror, see
their own futures, and not let them lift a finger to help themselves. It's
easy to see why you were forced to insert the alternate-payment clause. You
had no choice."
"You don't even know what we are doing. Why we exist."
"I have a good idea. After all, I worked for you two years."
Time passed. Rethrick moistened his lips again and again, rubbing his
cheek. Perspiration stood out on his forehead. At last he looked up.
"No," he said. "It's no deal. No one will ever run the Company but me.
If I die, it dies with me. It's my property."
Jennings became instantly alert. "Then the papers go to the Police."
Rethrick said nothing, but a peculiar expression moved across his face,
an expression that gave Jennings a sudden chill.
"Kelly," Jennings said. "Do you have the papers with you?"
Kelly stirred, standing up. She put out her cigarette, her face pale.
"No."
"Where are they? Where did you put them?"
"Sorry," Kelly said softly. "I'm not going to tell you."
He stared at her. "What?"
"I'm sorry," Kelly said again. Her voice was small and faint. "They're
safe. The SP won't ever get them. But neither will you. When it's
convenient, I'll turn them back to my father."
"Your father!"
"Kelly is my daughter," Rethrick said. "That was one thing you didn't
count on, Jennings. He didn't count on it, either. No one knew that but the
two of us. I wanted to keep all positions of trust in the family. I see now
that it was a good idea. But it had to be kept secret. If the SP had guessed
they would have picked her up at once. Her life wouldn't have been safe."
Jennings let his breath out slowly. "I see."
"It seemed like a good idea to go along with you," Kelly said.
"Otherwise you'd have done it alone, anyhow. And you would have had the
papers on you. As you said, if the SP caught you with the papers it would be
the end of us. So I went along with you. As soon as you gave me the papers I
put them in a good safe place." She smiled a little. "No one will find them
but me. I'm sorry."
"Jennings, you can come in with us," Rethrick said. "You can work for
us forever, if you want. You can have anything you want. Anything except --"
"Except that no one runs the Company but you."
"That's right. Jennings, the Company is old. Older than I am. I didn't
bring it into existence. It was -- you might say, willed to me. I took the
burden on. The job of managing it, making it grow, moving it toward the day.
The day of revolution, as you put it.
"My grandfather founded the Company, back in the twentieth century. The
Company has always been in the family. And it will always be. Someday, when
Kelly marries, there'll be an heir to carry it on after me. So that's taken
care of. The Company was founded up in Maine, in a small New England town.
My grandfather was a little old New Englander, frugal, honest, passionately
independent. He had a little repair business of some sort, a little tool and
fix-it place. And plenty of knack.
"When he saw government and big business closing in on everyone, he
went underground. Rethrick Construction disappeared from the map. It took
government quite a while to organize Maine, longer than most places. When
the rest of the world had been divided up between international cartels and
world-states, there was New England, still alive. Still free. And my
grandfather and Rethrick Construction.
"He brought in a few men, mechanics, doctors, lawyers, little
once-a-week newspapermen from the Middle West. The Company grew. Weapons
appeared, weapons and knowledge. The time scoop and mirror! The Plant was
built, secretly, at great cost, over a long period of time. The Plant is
big. Big and deep. It goes down many more levels than you saw. He saw them,
your alter ego. There's a lot of power there. Power, and men who've
disappeared, purged all over the world, in fact. We got them first, the best
of them.
"Someday, Jennings, we're going to break out. You see, conditions like
this can't go on. People can't live this way, tossed back and forth by
political and economic powers. Masses of people shoved this way and that
according to the needs of this government or that cartel. There's going to
be resistance, someday. A strong, desperate resistance. Not by big people,
powerful people, but by little people. Bus drivers. Grocers. Vidscreen
operators. Waiters. And that's where the Company comes in.
"We're going to provide them with the help they'll need, the tools,
weapons, the knowledge. We're going to 'sell' them our services. They'll be
able to hire us. And they'll need someone they can hire. They'll have a lot
lined up against them. A lot of wealth and power."
There was silence.
"Do you see?" Kelly said. "That's why you mustn't interfere. It's Dad's
Company. It's always been that way. That's the way Maine people are. It's
part of the family. The Company belongs to the family. It's ours."
"Come in with us," Rethrick said. "As a mechanic. I'm sorry, but that's
our limited outlook showing through. Maybe it's narrow, but we've always
done things this way."
Jennings said nothing. He walked slowly across the office, his hands in
his pockets. After a time he raised the blind and stared out at the street,
far below.
Down below, like a tiny black bug, a Security cruiser moved along,
drifting silently with the traffic that flowed up and down the street. It
joined a second cruiser, already parked. Four SP men were standing by it in
their green uniforms, and even as he watched some more could be seen coming
from across the street. He let the blind down.
"It's a hard decision to make," he said.
"If you go out there they'll get you," Rethrick said. "They're out
there all the time. You haven't got a chance."
"Please --" Kelly said, looking up at him.
Suddenly Jennings smiled. "So you won't tell me where the papers are.
Where you put them."
Kelly shook her head.
"Wait." Jennings reached into his pocket. He brought out a small piece
of paper. He unfolded it slowly, scanning it. "By any chance did you deposit
it with the Dunne National Bank, about three o'clock yesterday afternoon?
For safekeeping in their storage vaults?"
Kelly gasped. She grabbed her handbag, unsnapping it. Jennings put the
slip of paper, the parcel receipt, back in his pocket. "So he saw even
that," he murmured. "The last of the trinkets. I wondered what it was for."
Kelly groped frantically in her purse, her face wild. She brought out a
slip of paper, waving it.
"You're wrong! Here it is! It's still here." She relaxed a little. "I
don't know what you have, but this is --"
In the air above them something moved. A dark space formed, a circle.
The space stirred. Kelly and Rethrick stared up, frozen.
From the dark circle a claw appeared, a metal claw, joined to a
shimmering rod. The claw dropped, swinging in a wide arc. The claw swept the
paper from Kelly's fingers. It hesitated for a second. Then it drew itself
up again, disappearing with the paper, into the circle of black. Then,
silently, the claw and the rod and the circle blinked out. There was
nothing. Nothing at all.
"Where -- where did it go?" Kelly whispered. "The paper. What was
that?"
Jennings patted his pocket. "It's safe. It's safe, right here. I
wondered when he would show up. I was beginning to worry."
Rethrick and his daughter stood, shocked into silence.
"Don't look so unhappy," Jennings said. He folded his arms. "The
paper's safe -- and the Company's safe. When the time comes it'll be there,
strong and very glad to help out the revolution. We'll see to that, all of
us, you, me and your daughter."
He glanced at Kelly, his eyes twinkling. "All three of us. And maybe by
that time there'll be even more members to the family!"