Keith Laumer: End as a Hero

It was almost shocking to see it lying there—unprotected except for the flimsy case. The information it contained in micro-micro dot form could put my world in the palm of the enemy’s hand.

The room with the tool kit would be the best place to work, I decided. I brought the suitcase containing the electronic gear back from the outer door where I’d left it, opened it and arranged its contents on the table. According to the Gool these simple components were all I needed. The trick was in knowing how to put them together.

There was work ahead of me now. There were the coils to wind, the intricate antenna arrays to lay out; but before I started, I’d take time to call Kayle—or whoever I could get at the other end of the hot-line. They’d be a little startled when I turned up at the heart of the defenses they were trying to shield.

I picked up the receiver and a voice spoke:

“Well, Granthan. So you finally made it.”

“Here are your instructions,” Kayle was saying. “Open the vault door. Come out—stripped—and go to the center of the parking lot. Stand there with your hands over your head. A single helicopter manned by a volunteer will approach and drop a gas canister. It won’t be lethal, I promise you that. Once you’re unconscious, I’ll personally see to it that you’re transported to the Institute in safety. Every effort will then be made to overcome the Gool conditioning. If we’re successful, you’ll be awakened. If not…”

He let the sentence hang. It didn’t need to be finished. I understood what he meant.

I was listening. I was still not too worried. Here I was safe against anything until the food ran out—and that wouldn’t be for months.

“You’re bluffing, Kayle,” I said. “You’re trying to put the best face on something that you can’t control. If you’d—”

“You were careless at Delta Labs, Granthan. There were too many people with odd blanks in their memories and too many unusual occurrences, all on the same day. You tipped your hand. Once we knew what we were up against, it was simply a matter of following you at an adequate distance. We have certain shielding materials, as you know. We tried them all. There’s a new one that’s quite effective.

“But as I was saying, we’ve kept you under constant surveillance. When we saw which way you were heading, we just stayed out of sight and let you trap yourself.”

“You’re lying. Why would you want me here?”

“That’s very simple,” Kayle said harshly. “It’s the finest trap ever built by man—and you’re safely in it.”

“Safely is right. I have everything I need here. And that brings me to my reason for being here—in case you’re curious. I’m going to build a matter transmitter. And to prove my good faith, I’ll transmit the Master Tape to you. I’ll show you that I could have stolen the damned thing if I’d wanted to.”

“Indeed? Tell me, Granthan, do you really think we’d be fools enough to leave the Master Tape behind when we evacuated the area?”

“I don’t know about that—but it’s here.”

“Sorry,” Kayle said. “You’re deluding yourself.” His voice was suddenly softer, some of the triumph gone from it. “Don’t bother struggling, Granthan. The finest brains in the country have combined to place you where you are. You haven’t a chance, except to do as I say. Make it easy on yourself. I have no wish to extend your ordeal.”

“You can’t touch me, Kayle. This vault is proof against a hell-bomb, and it’s stocked for a siege…”

“That’s right,” Kayle said. “It’s proof against a hell-bomb. But what if the hell-bomb’s in the vault with you?”

I felt like a demolition man, working to defuse a blockbuster, who’s suddenly heard a loud click! from the detonator. I dropped the phone, stared around the room. I saw nothing that could be a bomb. I ran to the next room, the one beyond. Nothing. I went back to the phone, grabbed it up.

“You ought to know better than to bluff now, Kayle!” I yelled. “I wouldn’t leave this post now for half a dozen hypothetical hell-bombs!”

“In the center room,” Kayle said. “Lift the cover over the floor drain. You’ll find it there. You know what they look like. Don’t tamper with its mechanism; it’s internally trapped. You’ll have to take my word for it we didn’t bother installing a dummy.”

I dropped the phone, hurried to the spot Kayle had described. The bomb casing was there—a dully gray ovoid, with a lifting eye set in the top. It didn’t look dangerous. It just lay there quietly, waiting…

Back at the telephone, I had trouble finding my voice. “How long?” I croaked.

“It was triggered when you entered the vault,” Kayle said. “There’s a time mechanism. It’s irreversible; you can’t force anyone to cancel it. And it’s no use your hiding in the outer passages.

“The whole center will be destroyed in the blast. Even it can’t stand against a bomb buried in its heart. But we’ll gladly sacrifice the center to eliminate you.”

“How long!”

“I suggest you come out quickly, so that a crew can enter the vault to disarm the bomb.”

“ How long !”

“When you’re ready to emerge, call me.” The line went dead.

I put the phone back in its cradle carefully, like a rare and valuable egg.

I tried to think. I’d been charging full speed ahead ever since I had decided on my scheme of action while I was still riding the surf off the Florida coast, and I’d stuck to it. Now it had hatched in my face—and the thing that had crawled out wasn’t the downy little chick of success. It had teeth and claws and was eyeing me like a basilisk.

But I still had unplayed aces—if there was time.

I had meant to use the matter transmitter to stage a dramatic proof that I wasn’t the tool of the enemy. The demonstration would be more dramatic than I’d planned. The bomb would fit the machine as easily as the tape. The wheels would be surprised when their firecracker went off—right on schedule—in the middle of the Mojave Desert.

I set to work, my heart pounding. If I could bring this off—if I had time—if the transmitter worked as advertised…

The stolen knowledge flowed smoothly, effortlessly. It was as though I had been assembling matter transmitters for years, knew every step by heart. First the moebius windings; yard after yard of heavy copper around a core of carbon; then the power supply, the first and second stage amplimitters…

How long? In the sump in the next room, the bomb lay quietly ticking. How long… ?

The main assembly was ready now. I laid out cables, tying my apparatus in to the atomic power-source buried under the vault. The demand, for one short instant, would tax even those mighty engines. I fixed hooks at the proper points in the room, wove soft aluminum wire in the correct pattern. I was almost finished now. How long? I made the last connections, cleared away the litter. The matter transmitter stood on the table, complete. At any instant, the bomb would reduce it—and the secret of its construction—to incandescent gas—unless I transmitted the bomb out of range first. I turned toward the laundry room—and the telephone rang. I hesitated, then crossed the room and snatched it up.

“Listen to me,” Kayle said grimly. “Give me straight, fast answers. You said the Master Tape was there, in the vault with you. Now tell me: What does it look like?”

“What?”

“The… ah… dummy tape. What is its appearance?”

“It’s a roughly square plastic container, bright yellow, about a foot thick. What about it?”

Kayle’s voice sounded strained. “I’ve made inquiries. No one here seems to know the exact present location of the Master Tape. Each department says that they were under the impression that another handled the matter. I’m unable to learn who, precisely, removed the Tape from the vault. Now you say there is a yellow plastic container—”