Ten From Infinity, Paul W. Fairman [intellectual books to read txt] 📗

the stroke of a pen. Nobody wants to stick their neck out."

"Of course," Porter replied icily, "if you care to keep functioning as a discredited person—"

"I can. And I will. I'd be a coward if I didn't."

Porter was obviously disappointed but he shrugged. "That's your privilege. You, of course, will not be taken off the payroll."

"The payroll be damned. Send my checks to the Red Cross!"

And Brent Taber strode out of Porter's office, a man who stood alone in the Washington jungle of clashing ambitions, of purposes and cross-purposes—but a man who had no thought of quitting.

After Brent left, Porter put through a call to Senator Crane's office.

" ... so, while severing Brent Taber from official activity would be rather difficult, Senator, I have, in the[Pg 78] interests of efficiency, withdrawn most of his facilities."

"A wise move, Porter. A very wise move."

"By the way, Senator, that hydroelectric project on the Panamint River your Conservation people have in the works. I'm quite interested in it."

"Is that so?" Crane asked guardedly.

"Yes. Perhaps because of my experience along those lines in South America. I consider it a great opportunity to serve and I understand the administrator's post is still open."

Porter's tone was vague. "Yes. I believe it is."

"Of course, I'm quite happy where I am, you understand. I'm not looking for a change. However, the challenge does intrigue me."

"I'll give you a ring, Porter. Just sit tight until you hear from me."

After hanging up, Porter sat back and wondered. He tried to analyze the tone in which Crane had made the promise to call. It had been falsely cordial, beyond a doubt. Maybe Crane figured Taber's scalp was too small a price to pay for the hydroelectric plum. Well, in that case, Porter philosophized, he hadn't lost a great deal. It was all in the game.

Frank Corson was confused and troubled by the changes that continued to come over Rhoda Kane. He could not quite put his finger on the start of it, but as he saw her now, a scant two weeks after the incident of the man with two hearts, he could clearly see the changes. Where she had been a beautiful, poised, self-controlled woman, she was now more nervous and quick of movement, brighter of eye, full of a new restless energy he could not account for.

Also, the dominance in their affair had shifted. He had always, it seemed, been the dominant factor, in that Rhoda had continually catered to his moods and bent to the winds of his own unrest and dissatisfaction.

But one evening when he was free of duty at Park Hill, Rhoda came home and entered the apartment without glancing toward the double-width sofa by the window. Frank, stretched out with a drink in his hand,[Pg 79] watched her as she took her key out of the lock and put it back in her purse. He was struck by the fact that with this new "personality" that had become a part of her, she was even more attractive than before. A glow had been added. The quiet, dignified, statuesque beauty of before had been mysteriously vitalized by a new kind of inner life.

She turned from the door and, looking into the bright glare of the eight-foot windows, she saw him on the sofa and took a quick step forward.

"Oh," she cried. "It's you!"

"Of course, it's me."

Rhoda stopped dead and Frank was sure that the look of eagerness died as suddenly as it had been born.

"Well, good lord! Whom were you expecting?"

Rhoda laughed. "You just surprised me, that's all."

"Well, you gave me the keys to your apartment. Wasn't I supposed to use them?"

"Of course, silly." She came across the room and sat down on the sofa beside him. She bent down and kissed him.

"Golly," he said, sarcastically enthusiastic, "that was about as stimulating as a meeting between two dead fish."

"Frank! For heaven's sake! What's got into you lately?"

"I think that question should be reversed. 'What's got into you?"

"I think you're being unreasonable."

"Am I? Is it unreasonable to wonder why you did a complete about-face?"

"I don't understand."

"You understand. I've brought it up before. You spent weeks convincing me I ought to carry through with my internship and establish a practice. You said the time element didn't make any difference to you. You talked me out of the silly idea I had about cashing in on the man with two hearts. I admitted it was a silly idea. I turned away from it completely. Then you did the world's fastest about-face and began asking questions. You began pushing me in the direction you'd been arguing against."[Pg 80]

Rhoda refused to match his serious mood. She ran a playful hand through his hair. "A woman has a right to change her mind, hasn't she?"

"Oh, stop it, Rhoda. You're avoiding the issue."

"All right. I still maintain I have a right to change my mind, but in making it all seem completely unnatural you neglected to mention why you changed yours. Because a man named Brent Taber slapped your wrist like a little boy and scared you. It wasn't my influence that turned you around and started you walking the other way. It was a big man from Washington who said naughty, naughty and suddenly you were a nice little intern again, afraid to ask questions."

"It was more dangerous than you know, Rhoda."

"Oh, I'm sure it was. Do you want another drink?"

"No." Frank looked out the window and scowled. "Rhoda, there was something I didn't tell you about that affair."

"Was there? I'll bet you told Brent Taber, though."

"It was what brought Brent Taber into it. There was a murder in my room."

"And when Brent Taber came on the scene—" Rhoda stopped and stared down at him. "What did you say?"

"A man was killed in my room. The man with the broken leg. He didn't just go on his way, as I told you; he got his throat cut in my room."

Rhoda continued to stare. "And you didn't tell me about it."

"Brent Taber told me to keep my mouth shut."

"I suppose if Brent Taber had said, 'I don't want you to see that woman again,' you wouldn't even have dropped around to say good-bye."

"Rhoda—you're being unreasonable."

"Unreasonable to expect the man who says he loves me to confide in me?"

"All right. I was wrong. What happened is this: When William Matson was ready to leave Park Hill, he had no place to go, so I took him down to my room. I went back to the hospital and Les King contacted me. He said William Matson was really a man named Sam Baker who'd disappeared from his home in upstate New York[Pg 81] ten years ago. We went down to see him and found him sitting in a chair with his throat cut."

"You've been involved in a murder and you didn't say a single, solitary word—"

"Rhoda! I said I was sorry."

"I didn't see anything about it in the papers. I'm sure it wasn't on any of the newscasts."

"Of course, it wasn't. The police didn't even question me. I called the police and they came—two prowl-car men. Then they told Les and me to wait. We waited, and after a while this Brent Taber came in. He told us to go home and keep our mouths shut. Later, we were called downtown and Taber talked to us."

"He told you to go home," Rhoda said sarcastically. "You also said the man was killed in your room. Just where is your home, Mr. Corson?"

"I came here, Rhoda. I spent that night here."

"With a possible murder charge hanging over your head, you came here and didn't say a word!"

Frank sprang up from the couch and turned, scowling. "Goddamn it! Don't you believe me? Do you think I'm lying?"

"I don't know what to believe. I just feel—betrayed. But something else is more important."

"What?"

"You acted like a child. Just because some man appeared out of nowhere, you said Yes, sir and No, sir and Sorry, sir and walked away. Frank! I'm ashamed of you!"

In quick anger, his hand came back as though to slap her. But he dropped it to his side and strode across the room and picked up his jacket.

"And so now you're walking out again. You just can't face up to anything, can you, Doctor Corson."

He turned on her, his eyes blazing. "All right. Maybe everything you say is true. Maybe I've seesawed and acted like a kid. If I have, it's because of you. The thing in the Village had nothing to do with me changing my mind about going into research. I did it because I thought you wanted me to."

Now Rhoda was on her feet, too, her patrician nostrils flaring. "Well, don't do me any favors."[Pg 82]

"From now on, I wouldn't dream of it."

As he pulled on his jacket, Rhoda sat down on the sofa and lit a cigarette. "I'm convinced that if you'd gone along with Les King you would have been on the right road. King wasn't frightened off by a man who said he represented the government. He saw a chance to make some money and is probably going ahead with it right now."

"I don't give a damn what Les King is doing!"

"Of course not. But there's another little thing you overlooked. Don't you suppose this Brent Taber will toss that murder right back into your lap if it suits his purpose? The body was in your room. You're probably the chief suspect. So you sit back and let Brent Taber play whatever game he's got in mind. And if it goes wrong, Frank Corson gets picked up for murder."

"It can't possibly happen that way."

"Why not? Who is Brent Taber, really?"

"I told you—a government man."

"What government? Where can you get in touch with him?"

"I don't know. He gave me a phone number in case I ever saw a certain man again."

"What man?"

"Rhoda! They aren't men at all. They're androids!"

Rhoda froze and stared at him in consternation. "You actually believe that fairy tale? Frank, I just don't understand you."

"I told you about it before."

"But for the life of me I didn't think you took it seriously."

"I just didn't care. I'd had it. I wanted out."

"But you're involved in it, up to your neck, and if you had any guts you'd face Taber and make him tell you all the facts—and what's behind them."

"I have no intention of calling him."

"I guess that's the rock we split on then," Rhoda said coldly. She couldn't understand herself, even while she knew, deep down, that she wanted more information for him—John Dennis. Any other reason or excuse she used was a sham, a self-delusion.[Pg 83]

If she expected a protest, she didn't get it. Rhoda took a long, calm drag on her cigarette. She ground it into the ash tray. She raised her eyes and looked levelly at Frank.

"Very well," he said, finally, "It was nice knowing you."

"Shut the door quietly on the way out," she retorted.

He stared at her, his face revealing nothing. He turned, went to the door, and opened it. He looked back. She had not moved. He left without a word.

Rhoda Kane lit another cigarette. She stared out across the East River at the expensive view that went with her high-rent apartment. She got up and went to the liquor cabinet and made herself a drink.

She was back on the sofa when a key turned in the lock. The door opened. Frank Corson came in, walked to her and stood looking down at her. There was misery in his face, a beaten look in his eyes.

"You knew I couldn't do it."

"Couldn't do what, sweet?"

"Walk out on you. I'm in love with you, goddamn it. If I stayed away tonight, I'd be back tomorrow."

Rhoda set her glass down and held out her arms. "Darling," she whispered. "You wouldn't have had to. I'd have been down in the Village after you."

He kissed her hungrily and she pressed her hand against the back of his head, holding his mouth tight to hers. His hand slipped inside her blouse. She laid her own hand on it and held it firm.

"It's for your own good, darling, that I want you to contact this Taber and demand what you're entitled to. You have a right to know. If you don't find out, there might be a policeman at your door, any minute of the day or night."

"I'll call him."

"And if he tells you it's none of your business, stand up to him."

"I will."

She allowed his hand to go on with its exploring now. His finger touched her nipple, played with it. She closed