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Authors: Frank M. Robinson

BOOK: Power, The
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They took Grossman’s car and Tanner slid behind the wheel. He drove slowly through the warm evening, going south again towards the Loop.
Grossman stirred uneasily beside him. “You know that the police are after you, William?”
“So I’ve heard.”
Run, mouse, run!
“I have done some investigating,” Grossman continued. “I have not discovered much. You, I assume, have found out much more.”
“You’re taking your life in your hands if you listen to me, Karl.”
“I have already taken my life in my hands. Tell me.”
Tanner talked quietly, filling Grossman in on everything he had done since that Saturday morning—his own suspicions and minor triumphs and near death and above all, Adam Hart.
When he had finished, Grossman said, “We should tell the government. Right away.”
“You’d have a tough time convincing them.”
“I do not think so. A scientist could tell the government the moon was made of green cheese and they would call in a senator from Wisconsin to discuss tariffs. The government is willing to believe anything nowadays, William. It has to.”
“You forget that I’m a discredited man, Karl. I’m wanted for murder. The government would spend all its time looking for me, not Adam Hart.” Outside, the lights of wealthy Gold Coast apartment buildings winked quietly by. “Besides, call in an army of agents and sooner or later the news of what was going on would leak out. Then you could expect people to react one of two ways. They’d cheerfully welcome Hart as a dictator or else they’d start a pogrom where everybody of above-average IQ would have to run for their lives.”
“What does he want, William?”
“I haven’t got the answer to that one, Karl. Like Petey Olson once said, he doesn’t confide in me.” He circled a block and turned north on the Outer Drive. There was a full moon and Lake Michigan glittered with a soft phosphorescence. It gave him a morbid pleasure to watch dark waves roll in and then break in jeweled splendor against the long, stone breakwaters. The dirty city with a diamond lake front, the mink wrap covering the scrawny shoulders of a street urchin …
“Maybe he wants the world,” Tanner said suddenly. “Petey implied as much. And for all we know, maybe he’s well on the way to getting it. You read the newspapers and you can’t help but think that the world is going to hell in a handcart. But maybe it’s not going there under its own power, maybe somebody’s pushing it. Every time a politician makes a big mistake, every time a scientist says something he shouldn’t, every time a big wheel makes a decision that leaves the world in slightly worse shape that night than it was in the morning … how do we know the choice they made was their
own
idea?”
“But why would he do it?”
“Maybe it’s because he’s the first one, Karl. Maybe he thinks a little chaos will paralyze humanity so his own race can grow and thrive. Like the wasp’s egg planted under the skin of a butterfly larva, where the egg hatches and the baby wasp consumes the living host.”
The hum of the motor and the whirr of the wheels against the concrete. The dark shadow of Grossman, slouched in his seat, his cigarette a tiny red flare in the blackness.
“You think about it too much and you can go crazy,” Tanner continued. “I keep wondering
who
Adam Hart is and then sometimes I catch myself thinking it’s more important to find out
what
he is. You know, the world has changed enormously in the last four thousand years. We’re living in a technological age where anything and everything is possible and where just existing sometimes requires superhuman reasoning. But people themselves haven’t changed much. Maybe now Nature intends to replace us with a new model, a race with a built-in hydro-matic drive and power brakes, one that can live in a jazzed-up world without going off its rocker.” He was silent for a moment. “I dunno—it was just a thought.”
Grossman blew smoke against the windshield. “What do you think of Herr Hart—personally?”
It shook him up for a moment. What
did
he think of Hart? What did he
really
think? He had been too busy running to actually give it much thought … .
“I suppose I don’t hate him—in an abstract sense. Maybe he
could
do a better job of running things than human beings could. If he wanted to. At least, he would probably see that we were well taken care of. As well fed and sheltered as a farmer’s cattle.”
Outside, the silent city and the bright-eyed automobile bugs gliding quietly down the Drive.
“Do you think, William, that the cows would have an opportunity to set up a union?”
Tanner didn’t answer.
“It’s getting late,” Grossman said. “Maybe we should go home.”
“Yours?”
“You have no place else to stay, have you?”
“You don’t think Anna will object?”
“Anna will do as I say, William.”
“You know this is a dangerous thing for you to do, don’t you, Karl?”
“So? I do not care to stand by and watch this thing happen.”
“Is your house being watched?”
“I do not think so—and I have tried to make very sure.”
Tanner felt like laughing. How sure was sure? He turned off on a side street and concentrated on watching the street signs so he wouldn’t miss Grossman’s house. But in the back of his mind there was a slight, nagging doubt. He had talked a lot to Karl because he considered Karl safe. But no matter what test he ever devised for Karl and the others, he could never really be certain that Karl was really …
Karl.
 
IT
was late Monday evening but not everybody had gone to bed. The weather was hot and sticky and he could feel the electric uneasiness that preceded a thunderstorm. There was the low jumble of voices from people rocking on their front porches and the whispers of those sprawled out on the grass, staring at the stars and praying for cool air.
He parked in front of Grossman’s home. The physicist opened the door and led the way to the large, fragrant kitchen.
“Anna and the boys must be in bed, so we will be quiet. But maybe a glass of beer and a sandwich would go good, eh?”
He nodded and Grossman opened the refrigerator door and set dishes out on the table. “We have salami and wurst and some good American cheese—try it on the pumpernickle. Cold beef and mustard and … William, have you ever tried this creamcheese cake?”
“With beer?”
“It is not so bad as you think.” Still looking in the box, Grossman tried to set the plate on the table. He didn’t quite make it and the sound of china shattering on the linoleum was loud and ugly. He held up his hands. “Anna will wake up now but she does not mind a snack at night.” He winked. “I do not think she will be too angry.”
Tanner started to butter a slice of bread. “I’ll make up a sandwich for her—pour a little oil on the troubled waters.”
A light clicked on in a room down the hall and there was the sound of slippers padding heavily on the worn carpeting. Anna Grossman waddled into the patch of light in the kitchen doorway, her heavy features still thick with sleep.
Grossman closed the icebox door and turned towards her. “I have brought home Professor Tanner, Anna. He will be staying with us for the night.” He smiled and nudged a chair with his foot. “We were thinking we would have a little something before turning in and …”
His smile faded. The heavy, stolid expression on Anna’s face hadn’t changed. There was no welcoming smile, no angry frown, no look of recognition written there at all.
“What are you doing in my house?”
Grossman looked a little grim. “I did not mean to waken you, Anna, but in any case we do not argue in front of guests.”
“What are you doing in my house?”
“Anna! As your husband, I command …”
“My husband died five years ago!”
Tanner stepped forward. “Don’t you remember me, Mrs. Grossman?”
Her eyes flicked at him coldly. “I have never seen either one of you before in my life. Now get out of here before I call the police!”
Grossman was breathing heavily.
“Rudolph! Frederick!”
There was an immediate scurrying down the hall and two sturdy boys about twelve years old popped into the kitchen. “Your mother is sick—you will take her to her room.”
They edged back towards their mother, hostility etched deep in their faces. They didn’t recognize Grossman either, Tanner thought. Hart must have found out that the physicist was doing some investigating. And now Karl was going to pay the price.
Grossman started to crumble. “Anna, I—I do not understand. I am your
husband!
I …” The stern expression on her face didn’t change and he turned to the boys. “You know your own father, boys … .”
“Pop died a long time ago,” one of the boys said coldly. “He got killed in a car accident.”
Anna Grossman threw open the kitchen door. “Frederick, go next door and get help! Rudolph, call the police!”
The neighbors wouldn’t remember either, Tanner thought. It wasn’t going to do any good to stay and try and bluff it out, the neighbors would hold them until the police arrived and then the fat would really be in the fire. He’d be racked on a murder charge and they’d get Karl on a charge of breaking and entering.
“Come on, Karl,” he said gently. “Let’s go.”
The big man slumped in a chair. “My family—I have lost my family!”
Tanner grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him savagely. “They’re not going to remember you, Karl, no matter what! Hart’s made you pay and if you stay here you’ll be playing right into his hands!” He turned and started running towards the front door. Whether Grossman followed him or not was up to the physicist. But he could hear loud voices next door and he knew that this was his last chance to leave.
There were footsteps behind him and when he got into the car, Grossman slid in beside him. The lights were on in the houses on either side of Grossman’s home and two men had started running towards the car. He gunned the motor and they roared away.
He drove for a few minutes and then glanced casually at the quiet shadow sitting next to him.
Before, Grossman had always impressed him as being a big man, fat but with a thick layer of muscle beneath it. Now Grossman suddenly struck him as being small and pudgy and weak and curiously empty. Like a paper milk carton, firm and solid when it was full, and light and flimsy and easily crushed when the milk had been poured out.
Adam Hart had won another round.
 
 
Midnight, Monday, and the rain had started to pelt down, huge drops that mixed with the dust on the windshield and made oily smears that the wiper couldn’t get rid of. It had been an hour since Grossman had had anything to say and Tanner hadn’t prompted him. They had driven around the city and he had let the scientist talk when he wanted to and had kept his own mouth shut when he hadn’t wanted to.
“William? You have not asked me why I am willing to help you.”
“That seems rather obvious.”
“It is not entirely because of Anna or the boys.”
Tanner didn’t say anything. The only thing that would help would be to let Grossman talk it out.
“Have you ever seen a water dowser, William?”
“I once had an uncle who claimed he could dowse for water.”
“That is something most people do not believe in. But I saw it done once, a long, long time ago, when I was a young man and had just come over to this country. I worked in Nevada for a year and there was a man in town who made a living that way. It worked. The willow twig actually moved and when they dug, they found water. And do you know what I thought, William?”
“No, I don’t, Karl.”
Grossman cranked the window down a little and let the wet wind blow through the car. “I thought of all the poor fools that did not have the talent to dowse and had to go out and make their mistakes and perhaps dig dry holes and do a lot of work before they found it.” He was silent for a moment. “I want to help you, William, primarily because I do not want to see the poor fools kicked out and the world turned over to the water dowsers.”
They drove in silence for a few more miles, then Grossman said, “You have a plan?”
“That’s right, Karl. I’ve got a plan. Our problem is one of survival. We’ve got to smoke Hart out, to threaten his survival. To place him in a situation where his own reactions will be the tipoff, where he’ll
have
to show himself to get out. Like I did with you this afternoon. Only that time the results were unintentional.” He took a deep breath. “I’m going to try and kill each member of the committee, Karl. When I do not succeed—that will be the tip-off.”
“But that is murder!”
“Not exactly. The situation is in two parts. My part is to try and kill the suspected party. I make my plans, there is no backing out, and I will not be able to stop halfway. If Hart read my mind, he would read only murder. I’ll set up the situation and then tell you what it is. It’s up to you to solve it, to stop it at the last minute. But you’ll never tell me the solution, I’ll never know it.”
“And what is to stop Adam from reading your mind and knowing it is a false situation?”
“Perhaps he could, but he couldn’t read the solution. It would still be up to him to get out of it, unless he had absolute faith in your ability to prevent it. And I doubt that an organism keyed to survival would have that faith.”
“And what of my own mind?”
“I’m gambling on the element of surprise. The chances are he would be far too busy concentrating on the threat at that precise moment to pay too much attention to you.”
A little of Grossman’s strength had flowed back into him, a little of the milk had been poured back into the carton. He turned the idea over in his mind and Tanner could sense Grossman’s intensely logical brain examining it from every angle. “It is rather risky.”
“I can’t deny that.”
“And if you or I should slip in the case of an innocent person?”
“Then we’re murderers.”
He drove back into Chicago and the Near North Side, looking for a cheap hotel to spend the night. Before they turned in, Grossman said, “When you find out who Adam Hart is, William, what do you intend to do about it?”
He was surprised at how readily his own answer came. “Kill him, of course. And if I don’t succeed, I’ll shout his identity from the roof tops. Some place, Karl, somebody will believe me. Maybe two or three, maybe more. The story will spread and I think that will be the beginning of the end of Mr. Adam Hart.”
They went up to the room and he flicked off the lights and placed a chair to one side of the window. “You want the first shift, Karl? Four hours on, four hours off. I think you’ll have a warning if … anything … tries to reach you. Wake me up immediately.”
Grossman took the Beretta and sat in the chair. “Who do we try first tomorrow?”
The first guinea pig, the first one they would eliminate … . He picked one out of thin air. “Professor Scott. He could help us quite a bit on the rest, once he’s eliminated.”
He got into bed and tried to push a thought into the back of his mind, the nagging thought that kept reminding him he could never quite be sure of Karl, or of anybody else. Just before he dozed off, Grossman stirred in his chair by the window and said:
“You know, William, I do not think we will succeed. We are too much like dogs—plotting to capture the dog catcher.”

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