Джеффри Ллойд - Liberator Of Jedd

J, practical man, and with the Prime Minister and committee to keep happy, relished this. Would there not, in such a dimension, be gold and oil and all the rest? Untold and untouched, wealth to be exploited by England when teleportation was perfected. It made a strong talking point.

Lord L tapped the creature's flattened skull with the ruler. «A puzzle,» he admitted. «Not Pithecanthropus. Far short of Cro-Magnon, though he did walk upright in the, er, short time we saw him move of his own volition. The braincase is flat and the brow ridges very heavy. Yet the arms and legs are sum and well developed, the body protected by hair with an undercoat for additional protection from cold. That itself is totally unknown to us — a subhuman species with an undercoating of hair like some dogs have.»

Blade said, with a faint smile, «What makes him smell like that, sir?»

J tried not to laugh. His Lordship scowled but answered the question.

«Pure animal odor. Ogar never took a bath in his life. Over the years a protective coating of dirt and grease build up. It would come in very handy in bad weather.»

Ogar turned on the cot. Despite the heavy dosage of drugs he was given to tossing and turning and had several times fallen off the cot. Each time, Blade, the only one strong enough to lift him, had been summoned for the duty. And had taken a shower immediately to get the stink off him.

Now Ogar showed his teeth and snarled in his sleep. «Ogarrrrrr — rrrrrr — Ogarrrrrrrrrr—»

«Having a bad dream,» said Blade.

His Lordship tapped the hairy jaw. «Teeth much the same as ours, but larger and lacking any wisdom teeth. The canines are long and fang-like, as you can see.»

Blade was still healing from the bites inflicted by Ogar in their brief scuffle.

Lord Leighton moved closer to the cot. He seized a handful of hair at the back of Ogar's neck and raised the head. He poked with the ruler at the nape of Ogar's neck. «The amazing thing is the foramen magnum. Identical with our own, or so close to being as makes no difference. So he walks upright and his brain stalk is vertical. Ogar, my dear fellows, is a human being. Or very close to being one. I only wish it were possible to work out a lineal descent pattern, a phylogeny, but that is impossible since he is not of our dimension.»

His Lordship lectured them for two hours on Ogar. Blade was patient, abiding the smell and wondering what J was up to. That his chief was up to something Blade did not doubt — he had known J a long time and had come to know the meaning of that covert smile.

But it was Lord L who exploded the first bombshell. Two days later Blade awoke to the sound of jackhammers chipping away at stone. The sound was remote, in some far off sub-basement, but there was no mistaking the source. J, over breakfast, explained it.

«From our viewpoint,» he said over the sausage and eggs, «the old boffin may have gone around the bend, but from his viewpoint it makes good sense. He is having a cave built for Ogar.»

Blade halted his fork in upswing. «A cave?»

J speared the last sausage. «Yes, dear boy, a cave. Ogar is going to live in it when he comes out of the drug. So are you.»

«So am I what?»

«Going to live in the cave,» said J cheerfully. «With Ogar.»

Blade dropped his knife and fork. «Like bloody hell I am!»

J nodded. «So right. You are. I am going to order you to do it. I'm sorry, Dick, but it has to be done. I have to humor him and I have to keep him working on the computer. He can finish repairing it in a week if I can keep him at it, but not if he gets a case of the sulks. You must be a good fellow and go along.»

Blade groaned and choked back the obscenity he felt like voicing. «But why? Why in hell does he have to have a cave and why do I have to live in it with that — that whatever it is?»

J, though usually a taciturn and humorless man, was not without his moments. He said, «You mean Ogar? Our guest?»

Blade scowled at him. He tried to think of women. Tender-limbed, sweet-smelling, soft-breasted women. This monkish life was steadily taking its toll.

J shattered all that. «Lord L has deduced that Ogar, in his own dimension, lived in a cave. Probably he is right So he is going to give Ogar a cave. And a fire — he is having special ventilation installed — and he is going to play tapes that simulate the night sounds Ogar must have been used to hearing. There will be meat, raw meat — he can hardly wait to see if Ogar eats it raw or cooks it — and of all this he is going to make moving pictures and sound tapes. In other words, he wants a record of Ogar living in his own natural environment. Or what Lord L thinks must have been his environment. It really isn't a bad idea, you know.»

«It's a miserable idea,» said Blade crossly. «That thing is dangerous, for God's sake. I should know.»

J tutted that. He knew his Blade. «You're not afraid, Dick. Don't try to have me on. You're bored and restless and missing your totsies. But this thing you have got to do — it fits in exactly with my plans.»

And J revealed his plan to Blade, who had to laugh. Lord L was in for a rude shock.

«Besides which,» said J, «you will have a club and Ogar won't. You will be dressed in animal skin of some sort and Ogar will be, as usual, stark naked. That in itself should give you an overwhelming psychological advantage. Even a creature like Ogar is at a disadvantage without pants.»

Blade left the table. He did not feel like eating.

A good-sized cave had been bored out of the bedrock. Noiseless ventilators kept a current of cool air moving through it. A small fire was built in the center of the cave, a crude jar of water provided, and Lord L installed his movie cameras and recording equipment in secret crannies. Ogar was still drugged in his cell.

Lord Leighton, waxing more ecstatic by the moment, talked incessantly as he puttered about making final arrangements.

«Ogar will be terrified when he comes out of the drug,» he explained. «That will be the critical moment. And most interesting, too. I am counting on the night noises to keep him in the cave. If I am right he will not venture out of the cave at night. He will use the cave as a shelter and the fire as protection from the beasts. My guess is that he will remain very quiet and huddle by the fire.»

«And if he doesn't, sir?»

The old man touched Blade's arm and smiled. «Then you will have to handle him, my dear boy. It is, after all, your job. You did it before. No, I anticipate no difficulty there.»

Blade did not share his confidence. «Ogar is bound to be hungry,» he pointed out. «For meat. Probably raw meat. That just might make him forget his manners, sir. He might toss the script away.» He did not think it necessary to add that he, Blade, represented 210 pounds of good firm meat on the hoof.

«Meat he shall have,» said Lord L. «Fresh raw meat. I ordered a freshly killed beef yesterday. You, Richard, are going to offer him the meat as a gesture of friendship. Now let us go and fetch him.»

Blade carried Ogar to the cave and stretched him out by the fire. Leighton was testing his tapes and the night noises began to filter into the cave. Blade, alone with the sleeping Ogar, felt a chill creep up his spine. It was all very realistic. And atavistic. The flickering firelight brought shadows alive. Ogar slept on, his brute face cushioned on a hairy forearm. In the darkness outside, the roars and bellows and death cries of great mammals and reptiles came from the tapes in eerie authenticity. For a moment time slid back and it was a million years ago and Richard Blade stood naked and alone in a primeval night.

The hours passed. They watched Ogar through cleverly placed peepholes. Blade, naked now but for a skin about his loins, and carrying a club, began to be caught up in the thing. In a rawhide pouch he carried several chunks of raw and slightly gamey meat. He waited patiently for the game to begin, his handsome face impassive, his great muscles relaxed.