Mack Reynolds - Earth Unaware

“Look, I’m a citizen, and a taxpayer.” He thought about that. “At least I was until a week ago. Aren’t you supposed to have a warrant, or something?”

“Evidently, that was the good old days,” Stevens said, without antagonism. “Things are in a hurry now. Emergency. We were told to bring you in soonest. So we’re doing it.”

Ed Wonder felt more stubborn by the minute. “No,” he said. “Besides, I hate coppers.”

They looked at him.

He said, “That’s a long time ambition. To call a police officer a copper.”

Johnson said, “Swell. So now you’ve called somebody a copper. So lets get along.”

Ed gave up. “All right. But if you think you’ve got an emergency, you ought to know about my emergency.”

“It’s probably the same one,” Stevens said.

They ushered him down the elevator and to the street, one at each arm, easily, but Ed Wonder had the feeling that if he’d made a sudden dash for it, he wouldn’t have got more than two feet. There was a huge hover limousine before the door. They ushered him into the front seat and took their own positions to both sides of him. Stevens dialed their destination and the hover car rose toa police level and sped south.

“Where’re we going?” Ed said.

“Manhattan.”

“Why?” Ed said. “Don’t I get some sort of idea? I thought I was allowed to phone a lawyer, or something.”

“That was the good old days,” Stevens said.

Johnson was more cooperative. “Actually, Mr. Wonder, we don’t know what they want you for. This is the most hush-hush operation I’ve ever worked on.”

“Who’s they?” Ed demanded, indignant again, now.

Neither of them responded to that.

Manhattan was approximately a hundred miles to the south. Stevens lessened the speed fifteen minutes later and slipped into the heavier traffic of Ultra-New York.

They approached the New Woolworth Building, entered a vehicle portal and came to a halt before three smartly uniformed men, two of whom carried heavy caliber automatics in quick draw holsters.

Ed and his two plainclothesmen came out of the car and received the oatmeal look from the guards.

Credentials were presented and checked. The unarmed guard got on a phone and spoke into it quietly. Then he turned, nodded and showed them to an elevator.

They rose at stomach churning acceleration for what seemed a fantasically long time to Ed Wonder. They reached a peak of speed and then began to drop off. The door finally opened.

There were more guards, also armed. These too were passed. Ed Wonder’s two plainclothesmen ushered him down a hall to a side corridor. He passed a window and shot a look out. They were evidently very near the top of the tallest building in Manhattan. The doors of some of the rooms they passed were open. Inside were scores, hundreds, of men and women office workers. All seemed harassed. Other rooms were being set up for further activity; I.B.M. machines being wheeled in, key punches, collators, automatic printers, sorters.

“What the devil’s going on, here?” Ed demanded.

Johnson replied reasonably, “Like we told you. We don’t know.”

They finally reached their destination. Ed was ushered into a small anteroom, unoccupied save for a single girl at a desk.

Stevens said, “Wonder, Edward. Kingsburg. ‘C’ priority. Number Z-168.” He handed her an envelope. She opened it and scanned the single sheet it contained. “Oh, yes. Mr. Yardborough has been waiting.” She directed her voice to an interoffice communicator. “Mr. Yardborough, Mr. Wonder from Kingsburg has been brought in.”

Ed said hotly, “Look here, am I under arrest? If so, I want to phone a lawyer.”

She looked at him, shook her head as though too tired to answer. “Mr. Yardborough will see you now.”

One of the plainclothesmen opened the inner door for Ed’s passage, then closed it behind him.

Mr. Yardborough sat at a littered desk. The way Ed remembered it, an executive should never have a littered desk. There should only be one item of business at a time before the efficient executive.

Mr. Yardborough’s desk was littered to hell and gone.

He looked up, as weary in appearance as his receptionist. “Have a chair, Mr… uh… Wonder. Let me see.” He took up a paper out of the mess before him, then three news clippings.

Ed Wonder sat down. At least, somewhere in here he’d find out what was going on. The whole thing looked less and less like a police matter. He began to suspect…

Yardborough said, “Edward Wonder. Program director of the Far Out Hour, broadcasting on radio from Kingsburg. This first item we have on you is a news item written by…” he checked the clipping “…Buzz De Kemp, of the Kingsburg Times-Tribune . It describes, somewhat tongue in cheek, your radio guest, Ezekiel Joshua Tubber, an evangelist, who, supposedly, placed a, uh, curse on the vanity of women.”

Ed started to say something, but Yardborough held up a weary hand. “Just a minute. The second item is along the same line. Mr. De Kemp did another piece, also tongue in cheek, contending that this itinerent preacher, Tubber, was the cause of the so-called Homespun Look fashion fad.”

Yardborough laid down the second clipping, took up a third. “The last item also carries Mr. De Kemp’s byline but the style of writing seems somewhat different.”

“It was redone by the rewrite desk,” Ed mumbled. Things were beginning to clear.

“Indeed. Very well. This story, humorous in tone, reveals that Tubber claims to have been the cause of the current difficulties pertaining to television and radio.” Yardborough put the clipping down.

Ed said, “Where’d you get those?”

The other man smiled ruefully. “Believe me, Mr. Wonder, we have copies of every newspaper in the world, in whatever language, coming in here to the top five floors of the New Woolworth Building. We have translators going through them, word by word.”

Ed looked at him blankly.

Yardborough said, “Going through every newspaper in the world in hopes of finding a single hint, is only one of the operations going on in this building, Mr. Wonder. Nor is this building alone in the effort. However, suffice to say that we turned up these three items on you and Tubber. Now then, what have you to say to elucidate?”

Ed blurted, “What do you mean, what do I have to say? Nothing. They’re true.”

Yardborough said, “What’s true?”

“Ezekiel Joshua Tubber put a curse on women’s vanity. And it worked. Then he put a curse on radio and TV. That happened on my program. It worked too.”

Yardborough came to his feet. “All right, come along with me, Mr. Wonder.”

“Don’t you want to hear the whole story?” Ed Wonder said, surprised.

“You’re already out of my jurisdiction,” Yardborough told him. He gathered up the papers pertaining to Ed and led the way back into the receptionist’s office. The two plainclothes-men were still there, patiently waiting as only police can patiently wait.

Yardborough snapped to them. “This man has become ‘A’ priority, it’s your necks if anything happens to him.” He said to Ed Wonder, “Follow me.”

They went back into the corridor and up and down halls again. They were stopped only once by guards for identification. Finally, the four of them reached another office, larger this time, with three desks in the reception room. There were several guards about. Four or five nervous looking characters were sitting, obviously waiting for something or other, each with his own contingent of guards.

“Have a seat,” Yardborough told Ed, then went on to speak to one of the girls at a desk. He put the papers before her and spoke lowly. She nodded.

Yardborough turned back to Ed Wonder. “Good luck,” he said. To the two plainclothesmen he added, “Stick with him like paste until further orders.”