You'll Die Yesterday (3 page)

"The hero George couldn't have been you, could it, Jan?" Trowbridge asked dryly.

"Why of course not," Jan said without turning to look at Trowbridge. "It's just a story. That's all."

"And the girl in the story--Louise--she couldn't by any chance be Paula?"

"Well," Jan said, "of course I made her very much
l
ike Paula."

"How long has Mr. Morris been dead?" Trowbridge asked. He jumped to his feet abruptly, a startled look on his face. "Wait a minute!" he exclaimed. "A year and a half ago I was on a case. A patient in a hospital that was going to die anyway in a few hours was supposedly killed. The outer
layer of his brain was fried in
some mysterious way.
If
he was killed
--even the doctors couldn't be positive one way or another--it was just the way it happened in your book when the fellow's mind was transplanted into the synthetic brain, killing him in the process." He nodded slowly. Jan continued to concentrate on the test tube, his back to Trowbridge. Trowbridge smiled at the back sympathetically. "Don't worry, Jan," he said. "Your secret is safe as far as I'm concerned."

"
You mean--
" Jan said, turning abruptly to stare at the detective with hope dawning in his eyes.

Trowbridge nodded. "If the story in this book is true," he said, "I agree with you that it should be kept secret. Forgotten."

He stretched wearily, laid the book on the desk.

"But it's only fiction," Jan said, smiling queerly. "How could it be anything else? Don't you agree?"

"Of course," Trowbridge said, grinning.

He went to the door and opened it, sticking his head out into the hall with his shoulders against the door edge and the wall. The low rumble of whispered conversation went on for a minute, then he stepped back into the room, two plainclothesmen coming in.

"I'm going home, Mr. Stevens," Trowbridge said. "These men will stay here with you. They'll be relieved at midnight. You and Miss Morris are to remain here until Fred Stone shows up. If you want anything, one of my men will see that you get it." He looked over at Paula who was still asleep, nodded in Jan's direction, and left.

The two men took up positions on either side of the door and pulled up laboratory stools, settling down to a long vigil.

Trowbridge
, freshly shaven and alert looking, smiled sympathetically at Jan and Paula. "Too bad you had to stay here all night for nothing," he said. "It'll probably be all over by noon. Then you can go home and get some real rest."

"1 didn't mind," Paula said. "It's worth it if we can save Fred Stone's life."

"I did some work," Jan said. "The time wasn't exactly wasted."

The phone shrilled unexpectedly. The three of them looked at it, then at one another. Jan went to it. Lifting it hesitantly he said, "Hello? Yes, this is Mr. Stevens... That's quite all right . . . Yes. Thanks very much for telling me... It was quite all right... Goodbye." He hung up, an excited expression on his face.

"That was the president of the Societ
y," he said. "About fifteen min
utes ago a man called her
and asked her where he could get in touch with the
author of 'Me and My Robot'. She told him, then got to wondering if she had done the right thing. That's why she called." He looked from Trowbridge to Paula excitedly. "Maybe it was Fred Stone!"

"Did she give him this address?" Trowbridge asked.

"Yes," Jan said. "It was the only one she knew."

"Then he should be here almost any minute!" Paula said.

"My man in the lobby of the building will call up as soon as he gets on the elevator," Trowbridge said. "When he gets on this floor there are men posted out of sight who will prevent him from leaving until and unless I give an okay."

They looked at the door, becoming conscious of the occasional footsteps outside in the hall as people passed by, the vague shadow outline of their forms as they passed the frosted glass of the door.

"They might miss him," Jan said.

"It's possible, of course," Trowbridge said. "But--"

He stopped. Someone had halted outside. The shadow of an arm went up. A knock sounded.

"They missed him in the lobb
y," Trowbridge said in a low voi
ce, "but my men in the hall will see him and close in as soon as he enters. Go to the door and let him in, Jan."

Jan was already on his way to the door. He opened it wide. Standing framed in the doorway was -- not Fred Stone--but the man who had killed him!

"Are you January Stevens?" the man asked politely.

"Why -- why yes," Jan stammered.

"May I come in Mr. Stevens?" the man asked. "I see you have company, but what I want to see you about is very important."

"Come right in," Trowbridge spoke up, his voice overly loud. Two men had appeared silently behind the man, "Bring him in, boys," Trowbridge added as he saw them.

The man, feeling heavy hands grasp his arms, turned startled but unafraid eyes at them. As they firmly pressured him through the doorway into the laboratory he started to resist, then gave in, a puzzled but tolerant smile on his lips.

"We didn't expect you," Jan said.

"Naturally not," the man said, "Who are these people, the police?"

"Yes," Jan said.

"Yes," Trowbridge echoed. "Jan, is this the man you saw?" When Jan nodded he turned to the man. "I'm arresting you for murder," he said simply. "I'd also like to ask you some questions right now before the boys take you in; but I also have to advise you that anything you say can be used against you as evidence, and you don't have to answer any of the questions before getting an attorney." He looked past the man to one of his two subordinates. "Put the cuffs on him. We don't want to take any chances."

Jan and Paula watched, fascinated, as the handcuffs were snapped on the man.

"What's your name?" Trowbridge asked abruptly.

"Sigmund Archer," the man answered. He looked from Trowbridge to
Jan and Paula, his eyes bright
--almost laughing. "Would you tell me the name of the person I'm supposed to have killed?" Trowbridge stared at him but didn't answer. "Would
it
by any chance be Fred Stone?" Sigmund Archer asked.

"You should know," Trowbridge grunted.

"But I don't," Archer said, showing relief. "I just wanted to m
ake sure it won't be
--wasn't some innocent party."

"It was Fred Stone," Trowbridge said. "Why did you do it?" Sigmund Archer laughed. Jan fought to keep from smiling, and looked at the puzzled frown on Trowbridge's face.

"Don't you see what he's laughing about?" Jan said. "He hasn't gone back to night before last and killed Fred Stone yet. If you arrest him for that murder it will prevent him from going back and committing the murder. There won't have been any murder, and you can't convict him."

"So it will be night before last!" Archer said musingly.

"Keep quiet and let me do the talking," Trowbridge said to Jan sternly. Then to Archer, "If that's the way It will be, okay. I'd much rather prevent a killing than catch a killer. You're still under arrest until we can warn Fred Stone."

"If in my future I shoot Fred Stone night before last in your past," Sigmund Archer said, "isn't it a foregone conclusion that you aren't going to be able to hold me and prevent that which has already happened?"

"You're in a better position to answer that than I am," Trowbridge said. "I don't know anything about the mumbo jumbo of time travel. All I know is that a murder has been committed, and that you have been positively identified as the murderer. It's my duty to arrest you and bring you to trial. I intend to carry out my duty."

Sigmund Archer
looked at Trowbridge, his smile fading slowly.

"I suppose you have Fred Stone's remains," he said suddenly. "Mind if I look at them for the purpose of identifying the
m
?"

Trowbridge opened his mouth, then clamped it shut, giving Jan and Paula warning looks. He appeared to be thinking for a moment.

"We might arrange that later," he said cautiously.

"In other words you had the body but it's vanished," Archer said calmly. "That would make an interesting point in law, if it ever came to court. But it won't, because if it did there would be a record of it
where
I come from."

Anger suffused Trowbridge's features. He opened his mouth to make an angry retort. The anger vanished abruptly, to be replaced by shrewdness.

"I nearly forgot the main questi
on I was going to ask you," he
said. "Why are you after Fred Stone? Why did you shoot him?"

"I didn'--yet," Archer said. "My reason
--I'm quite sure that January Stevens can guess that."

He looked at Jan. Trowbridge smiled knowingly at Jan and said, "It's possible I could guess far more accurately than he could."

"I'm thirsty," Sigmund Archer said abruptly. "Could I have a glass of water?"

"I'll get it," Jan said, going toward the water cooler against the wall. All eyes were oft him for an instant.

A clang of something metallic falling to the floor jerked their attention back. Sigmund Archer had vanished. The handcuffs that had been on his wrists were on the floor.

"I caught it out of the corner of my eye," one of the two detectives said. "He became sort of transparent like he was made of glass, and vanished."

"And," Trowbridge said dryly, "he could have done it at any time since he came in here."

The phone shrilled with startling suddenness. It was Trowbridge who recovered from the paralysis of surprise first. He took two quick strides to the phone and scooped it up.

"Yes," he said curtly. Then, "Okay, stand by down there. Don't let him out if he goes back down." He dropped the phone and looked at the others. Fred Stone just
entered
the elevator, " he said quietly.

The knock
at the door was three regularly spaced polite raps. Every eye in the room was fixed intently on the shadowy movements on the frosted glass that accompanied the knocking.

It was Trowbridge who went to the door, motioning Jan back.

Jan looked at Paula desperately, then took a deep breath. Paula, eyes round, turned from him back to the door as T
r
owbridge twisted the knob.

After he had twisted the knob Trowbridge seemed to hesitate a second. Then he jerked the door open and reached out, seizing the startled Fred Stone by the arm and jerking him off balance, propelling him into the room.

"Fred!" Jan said swiftly. "You're going to be killed!"

But the hurtling figure of Fred Stone had vanished before their eyes, leaving Trowbridge with a stupid surprise on his face as he looked at his empty fingers.

"Now you've done it!" Jan said. "You scared the wits out of him with that stupid play."

"Maybe he'll be back," Trowbridge said, still looking at his hand peculiarly.

"Be back?" Jan echoed angrily. "Don't you remember what he said just before he died? That he wished he had waited to hear what I was trying to say to him? He won't be back. He's gone back in time to attend that lecture and ask his questions--and be killed."

"I guess you're right," Trowbridge said, shaking his hand jerkily as if it was asleep. "So there's no use sticking around here any longer." He gave his two subordinates a significant look and went to the door.

He opened it and stood to one side while they went out. His eyes were on Jan, sympathetically. Jan was glaring at him, so angry he was speechless.

"I wouldn't bother about it too much if I were you, Jan," he said kindly. "Remember you have a secret you'd die rather than reveal. A scientific secret that could conceivably do a l
ot of damage in the wrong hands
--now or two hundred years from now. Me, I probably wouldn't understand it if you told it to me. One thing I do know though is cops. Being one myself I can tell one a mile off." A grin flashed across his face as he backed out of the door. He closed it until only his face and part of his body were visible. "You see, Jan," he said softly, "Sigmund Archer was a cop."

He withdrew his head. The door closed softly.

Roger Phillips Graham
 
(1909-1965) was an American science fiction writer who most often wrote under the name Rog Phillips, but also used other names, including A. R. Steber , Craig Browning , Robert Arnette , John Wiley , Melva Rogers , Gerald Vance , Inez McGowan , Mallory Storm , Franklin Bahl , Drew Ames , Sanandana Kumara , Roger Graham , Charles Lee, Peter Worth , Milton Mann , Roger P. Graham. He is most associated with
 
Amazing Stories
 
and is best known for short fiction. He was nominated for the
 
Hugo Award for Best Novelette
 
in 1959.

Other works by Rog Phillips

So Shall Ye Reap

These Are My Children

Vacation in Shasta

Atom War

The Mutants

Battle of the Gods

Dual Personality

The House

The Uninvited Jest

The Despoilers

High Ears

And Eve Was

The Venusian (by Craig Browning)

Armageddon (by Craig Browning)

Tillie (by Craig Browning)

Brainstorm (by Alexander Blade)

Hate

Twice to Die

The Supernal Note

Starship from Sirius

The Cube Root of Conquest

The Unthinking Destroyer

The Form of Hunger (by Craig Browning)

The Runaround (by Craig Browning)

Window to the Future (by Peter Worth)

The Robot and the Pearly Gates (by Peter Worth)

The Last Stronghold ( by Chester Ruppert)

I Died Tomorrow (by Peter Worth)

Unforseen (by Roger P. Graham)

Lunar Holiday (by Peter Worth)

The Can Opener

M'Bong-Ah

Quite Logical

She

Unthinkable

The Shortcut

The Robot Men of Bubble City

The Awakening

The Tangential Semanticist

Incompatible

Matrix

Planet of the Dead

Beyond the Matrix of Time

The Miracle of Elmer Wilde

Seven Come A-Lovin' (by Craig Browning)

Lorelei Street (by Craig Browning)

The Exteroceptor Deceptor (by Craig Browning)

The Friendly Wolf (by Craig Browning)

Goddess of the Volcano (by Craig Browning)

Spawn of Darkness (by Craig Browning)

Two Against Venus (by Craig Browning)

Vial of Immortality (by Craig Browning)

Victims of the Vortex (by Clinton Ames)

Read It and Weep! (by Peter Worth)

Warrior Queen of Mars (by Alexander Blade)

Slaves of the Crystal Brain (by William Carter Sawtelle)

Null F (by Peter Worth)

This Time

To Give Them Welcome (by Melva Rogers)

The Pranksters

Typewriter from the Future (by Peter Worth)

Detour from Tomorrow

The Fatal Technicality

Live in an Orbit and Love It! (by Craig Browning)

The Face Beyond the Veil (by Franklin Bahl)

The Lost Bomb

The Mental Assassins (by Gregg Conrad)

"If You Were Me . . ."

Holes in My Head

Weapon from the Stars

A Man Named Mars (by A. R. Steber)

One for the Robot - Two for the Same . . .

Love My Robot

Rescue Beacon (by Craig Browning)

Bubastis of Egupt (by Craig Browning)

A Matter of Stupidity (by Robert Arnette)

The Master Ego (by Peter Worth)

Courtesy Call (by A. R. Steber)

Empire of Evil (by Robert Arnette)

"You'll Die Yesterday!"

Secret of the Flaming Ring (by P. F. Costello)

In What Dark Mind

Vampire of the Deep

The Man from Mars

Who Sows the Wind . . .

The Imitators (by Peter Worth)

The President Will See You . . .

Remember Not to Die!

"Step Out of Your Body, Please!"

Checkmate for Aradjo

The Unfinished Equation (by Robert Arnette)

Moon of Twelve Gods (by Robert Arnette)

No Greater Wisdom

The Visitors

The Old Martians

A More Potent Weapon

The World of Whispering Wings

Destiny Uncertain

The Man Who Lived Twice

Black Angels Have No Wings

All the Answers

Adam's First Wife

I'll See You in My Dreams

It's in the Cards

“It's Like This”

Visitor from Darkness

The Sorceress

Frontiers Beyond the Sun (by Mallory Storm)

Ye of Little Faith

The Menace

The Lady Killer (by Franklin Bahl)

Your Funeral Is Waiting

The Lost Ego

The Phantom Truck Driver

The Cyberene

Pariah

From This Dark Mind

Go Visit Your Grave

The Cosmic Junkman

Repeat Performance

The Devil's Dollhouse

Assignment to Life (by Sanandana Kumara)

The Kid With the Beautiful Hands ( by Melva Rogers)

Earthbound (by Charles Lee)

. . . Lest Ye Be Judged (by Sanandana Kumara)

Mistress of the Kama-Loka (by Peter Worth)

Ming Cha (by Milton Mann)

In the Twinkling of an Eye (by Sanandana Kumara)

The Holy Man (by Sanandana Kumara)

What Is to Be. . . (by Melva Rogers)

The Golden Kitten (by Charles Lee)

God Is in the Mountain (by Peter Worth)

Am I My Dark Brother's Keeper (by Sanandana Kumara)

A Handful of Sand

Teach Me to Kill

Homestead

Executioner No. 43

Game Preserve

Truckstop

The Cosmic Trap (by Gerald Vance)

World of Traitors

Captain Peabody

Lefty Baker's Nuthouse

Venusian, Get Out!

It's Better Not to Know

Ground Leave Incident

Refeuling Station

Prophecy, Inc.

Services, Incorporated

Space Is for Suckers (by P. F. Costello)

Jason's Secret

In This Dark Mind (by Inez McGowan)

The Yellow Pill

Rat in the Skull

Unto the Nth Generation

The Gallery

The Creeper in the Dream

Keepers in Space

The Only One That Lived

Camouflage

The Lurker