Mack Reynolds: Rolltown

“The bug!”

He staggered around, completely out of control of himself, moaning in agony. A burst of automatic fire hit him.

Bat, reeling weakly himself, flicked on his phone and stuttered, “Emergency, emergency! Mexican Police. Road Dolores Hidalgo, San Miguel de Allende. Emergency emergency, emer…” And then the fog rolled in.

When Bat Hardin became conscious again, he was in the mobile clinic of Doc Barnes. He felt weak, but his mind was alert. He looked about him. Ferd Zogbaum, unconscious, was in the next bed. It was a three-bed dormitory. The other bed was empty.

Doc Barnes came in followed by Diana Sward who was wearing a nurse’s white smock. She was obviously a volunteer.

Barnes said, “You’re awake. Good.” He turned and looked down at Ferd Zogbaum.

Bat said, “How’s Ferd?”

“He’ll be all right. He took three hits, but none of them too serious. We’re taking him in for some minor surgery now.”

Bat said, “Listen, has he been unconscious all this time?”

Doc Barnes looked at him impatiently over his shoulder. “Why, yes.”

Bat said, “Look, Doc. When you were in private practice what was your specialty?”

“Why, I was a surgeon.”

“Brain surgeon?”

“No. I have done some brain surgery, but it was not my specialty.”

Bat took a deep breath. “Look, Doc. Ferd Zogbaum is going to die on your operating table.”

Di Sward blurted, “Don’t be an ass.”

He ignored her. “Doc, Ferd has an electronic device planted in his skull. Can you take it out?”

Barnes goggled at him.

Bat pursued. “He’s a paroled convict. Life sentence. He saved us all. Look, Doc. We took a lot of casualties in this fracas. All is confusion. He can die on your operating table. You can sign… whatever it is you doctors sign when a guy cashes in his chips.”

“I’m an ethical…”

“And you and everybody else in New Woodstock owe your life to Ferd Zogbaum.”

Doctor Barnes held a long silence. Finally he said, “What was he sentenced to life for? I have heard of this electronic bug before but it is the first in my experience. It should not be difficult to remove. Is he a murderer?”

It was Di Sward who said heatedly, “He’s an idealist! He has political objections to the present socio-economic system in the States.”

Doc Barnes looked at her wryly. “You seem a bit partisan, Miss Sward. However, so do I. I don’t exactly know what they are, but I too have reservations about our present socio-economic system. You are sure that Zogbaum’s, ah, crimes, are all of a political nature?”

“Yes,” Diana said firmly.

“Very well. Now the question becomes, if he, ah, dies on my operating table, and I remove the electronic device from his skull, how does he continue to collect his NIT or otherwise support himself?”

Bat and Diana looked at each other blankly. Diana Sward said finally, “I make a reasonable living with my painting. He can write under a pseudonym until he gets to the point where he is making better sales. We’ll never return to the States.”

Doc Barnes took her in. “You are his mistress?” She said, her mouth tight, “Yes, I am his mistress, and I am willing to become his wife#longdash#if he will have me. I am not a great acquisition.”

“Like hell you aren’t,” Barnes said sourly.

Doc thought about it, his face in disgust. “Damn it,” he said. “Why can’t a doctor just carve them up, or slip them the necessary shots or pills?” He glared at Di. “Miss Sward, let’s make the arrangements to get this operation rolling, before we have no patient left… to die on our operating table.” He turned and left the room.

Diana Sward looked at Bat and said, “I think we’ve swung him. See you later, Bat.”

“Yeah, see you later, Di,” he said, looking after the woman he loved as she left the room.

The Secretária de Defensa Nacional colonel said courteously, “Your arrest was a technicality, of course. You are free to go at any time you wish, Senor Hardin. But, after all, several of our nationals were killed, including Caesar Munoz and his son, José.”

“And several of our own citizens, Colonel,” Bat Hardin said softly.

“Yes, including one that you killed yourselves, this Manuel Chauvez.”

“He was caught signaling Don Caesar’s son,” Bat said. “He tried to resist arrest and Mr. Robertson was forced to shoot him. Evidently, he had what amounted to a mania against his employer and against Americans in general.”

The colonel gestured to the TV screen on his desk. “As I said, your arrest was a technicality; however, to double check on you I secured your dossier from your American National Data Banks. Purely routine. Your record, I am pleased to see, is impeccable.”

Bat said, “I should congratulate you people on the speed with which you came to our assistance. I was unconscious at the time but I understand that the helicopters were there in less than fifteen minutes.”

The colonel nodded. “You see, we were aware of Caesar Munoz’s activities and his group was under observation. We knew they had desperate plans but weren’t exactly sure what they were. Nevertheless, we had a sizable force on continual alert. Frankly, we were astonished at the magnitude of the attempt. Thank God he has failed.”

Bat said unhappily, while gnawing at his lip, “Are you so sure that he has? What will happen when this affair hits the newspaper headlines?”

“It will not hit the headlines, Senor Hardin. The Mexican and United States governments are cooperating to suppress the account. We are aware of the problems brought on by the mobile towns, but Don Caesar’s solution was not the correct one. He was trying to turn the wheels of time backward. It can’t be done. Yesterday will never be with us again, whether we wish it to be or not.”

“What is the solution?”

The colonel shrugged in a Latin gesture. “Perhaps I do not know. Perhaps it is more rapid progress for Mexico so that we, in turn, became an affluent society.” He laughed abruptly. “You would be surprised, Senor Hardin, how rapidly the spread of mobile homes is coming to our country. We already have several mobile resort towns, some of which cross periodically to the United States. And, to the south, Guatemala has recently complained of the large number of Mexican homes and trailers that are flooding that country.”

Bat came to his feet. “I should be going. New Woodstock is scheduled to head south today. All repairs have been completed. We must thank the Mexican government again, for taking on all expenses involved.”

“Certainly it was the only possible thing for us to do.” the colonel said, coming to his feet and extending his hand to be shaken.

He said, “Would you mind answering one question, Senor Hardin?”

Bat looked at him quizzically.

The colonel said, “I went over the details of the whole unfortunate affair. I must say, I admired your measures. I am sure Don’ Caesar never expected such a valiant defense.”

“Thanks,” Bat said.

“As a police officer myself, I find I am somewhat surprised that your talents are hidden away in such a small town as New Woodstock. Your war record is impressive.” He gestured at Bat’s dossier still in the screen on his desk phone. “Have you never considered attending one of your American police schools and then securing a position in one of your larger cities?”

Bat said evenly, “I’m not eligible.”

The colonel frowned puzzlement. “But why?”

“My I.Q. is not adequate.”

“Not adequate! We do not use the same system here in Mexico but I was under the impression that an I.Q. of 132 was quite superior.”