At the Narrow Passage Page 10

  Von Heinen was sleeping or unconscious -- I couldn't tell which -- when I heaved him out of the car, carried him to within a few feet of Sally and tied and gagged him. I didn't particularly like the idea of trussing up a man as badly wounded as he was, but I wasn't in any position to take chances with his waking up and somehow freeing Sally.

  "I'll be back in a few minutes," I told Sally, "and I won't be far away, so don't get any silly ideas about making noise. I'd hate to have to get rough with you."

  Sally, of course, didn't answer, but she didn't have to. The way she felt about me was clear enough from her eyes. She'd have cut my throat laughing if she got the chance.

  I looked one last time at Von Heinen, wondered how much longer he could live in his condition and then followed the path on toward the stand of young woods that lay a few yards from the grove of trees where Sally and her husband lay.

  The woods, which probably had been farmland not too many years before, lay a half mile or so from the road, what there was of the road. And there was very little likelihood of any traffic along it. It didn't look as if there had been another motorcar on it for days.

  When I was satisfied that I was well out of the range of Sally's hearing unless I yelled very loudly, I stopped and doglike relieved myself against the trunk of a tree. I felt better when I walked a few feet away and began doing what I had come back there to do.

  First I took off my coat and carefully spread it out on a fairly level spot of earth and then sat down on the coat. Taking what appeared to be a windproof cigarette lighter from my pocket, I pulled it apart. It wasn't a lighter. It was a block of gray plastic with three tiny jacks in one end.

  Next I removed what looked like a British-issue knife from its sheath on my left hip, held the blade in my right hand, the handle in my left and gave the blade a counterclockwise twist. The handle popped free. Up inside the handle nestled several feet of exceedingly thin wire, a fingernail-size microphone, and an equally small earphone.

  I unrolled the wire, plugged one end of it into one of the jacks on the block, and then looped it over a tree branch above my head. Finally I plugged the microphone and the earphone into the two remaining jacks and I was "on the air."

  In this Timeline, operating radio was still in its earliest infancy, though the grapevine had it that the Kriths were about to help the British "invent" the vacuum tube. As it was, a few spark-gap transmitters and cat's-hair and crystal receivers were being used by experimenters who predicted the day when radio -- or wireless telegraphy -- would be used for communications all over the world. None of those wild-eyed visionaries had any idea that on Earths other than their own radio had reached and far exceeded their most fantastic dreams.

  This tiny unit was far from being the most sophisticated radio I had used, but it was the best Kar-hinter had seen fit to give me. It would do the job. Its transmissions would be received at the main Krithian-Timeliner base on this Line which was near the Butt of Lewis on the Isle of Lewis in the Outer Hebrides -- most of it underground. And that is where Kar-hinter would probably be right about now.

  Why code names were necessary, I had no idea. There was no one on this Earth using this frequency. But Kar-hinter had required them should radio communications be necessary.

  "Red mobile to red leader. Red leader, this is red mobile. Come in, red leader."

  I felt like an ass sitting there on the soggy ground in the middle of nowhere, speaking code names into a little gray box, but that's the way the game is played.

  "Red leader, this is red mobile. Red leader . . ."

  There was a crackle from the phone within my ear.

  "Red mobile," said a voice that I didn't recognize, but thought was human, "this is red leader station. Stand by."

  "Red mobile standing by."

  There was silence for a long while. I assumed that the human operator had gone to get Kar-hinter.

  I was right.

  "Eric?" asked the Krith's voice.

  "Yes, Kar-hinter. Late, but reporting."

  "Are you safe?"

  "As of the moment."

  "Count von Heinen?"

  "Alive, the last time I looked. I don't know how long he'll last, though. What about Tracy and Kearns?"

  "Safe. They managed to get through the Imperial lines just after dawn. Hillary is in a field hospital now. He will be fine, the doctors say."

  "Good. Did they tell you what happened?"

  "Yes, but they could give no explanations. Can you?"

  I had the uneasy feeling that someone else was listening to me. I looked around, saw no one, felt foolish, and chalked it up to my imagination. I was just tired and getting jumpy. That's all.

  "No. It doesn't make any sense. I've never seen a skudder like the one they were in."

  "Nor I, from the descriptions." The Krith paused for a moment. "Can you tell me where you are?"

  "Somewhere in France."

  "I expected no more. We will be able to get a fix on you soon, Eric, but I do not know how soon we will be able to come after you."

  "You can get a fix and then skud in from an adjacent Line, can't you?"

  "We will, just as soon as a skudder is available to us. The one you used was the only one in this part of France on any nearby Line."

  "The one at the station?"

  "Damaged beyond repair."

  "How?"

  "A heat weapon of some sort, perhaps a thermal grenade."

  "How long will I have to wait?"

  "I cannot tell you as yet. Is your position exposed?"

  "Not really, but I don't feel too safe."

  "Do you think you can find shelter nearby?"

  "I may. We passed some abandoned farmhouses a few miles back."

  "That may do if there are no used roads nearby. Do you have a motorcar?"

  "Yes."

  "Use it if you must go get to a place of shelter and then hide it so that no one is likely to see it. Then transmit to us again so that we can get an exact fix on your new location. Perhaps then I can tell you how soon we can come in to pick you up."

  "Okay. Anything else?"

  "No, Eric. Except, do what you can for Von Heinen. We need him alive."

  "I know. I will."

  "Very good, Eric. That is all then. Out."

  "Red mobile, out."

  I disconnected the radio, carefully stowed the component parts back in their hiding places and shook out my damp coat.

  The trail I had followed from the place where I had left Sally and the count continued on through the woods, fainter, apparently unused in years, but it offered the slight possibility that it might lead to something, a house, a farm. I decided to follow it a little way.

  A dozen times I very nearly lost the trail as it wound through the woods, obscured by the growth of trees and brush, but at last I passed through the wood and out into a meadow. On the far side of the meadow, on a slight rise that was topped by a grove of very old poplars, stood the ruins of what once might have been a nobleman's secret retreat.

  The house had not been large when it had been whole, and now less than a third of it was intact. It did not appear to have been damaged by the war, only by time, for it had stood there alone for many years, perhaps unknown by any living person. The west end of the house -- or rather, cabin -- was still covered by a roof, and as I crossed the meadow, I thought that perhaps a room or two might still be habitable, for a short time at least.

  I approached the house cautiously, the energy pistol in my left hand, the Harling still in its holster, and heard nothing save the sudden movement of some tiny animal as it made its way out of the back, darting into the brush. I peered in through an open door hanging on rusty hinges, looking as if it were ready to fall at the slightest breeze.

  The single surviving room was filled with the litter of years: leaves, twigs, the droppings of animals who had passed through it. There was no furniture, save an old pallet in one corner that someone, perhaps a passing hobo or a teen-age couple looking for a place to
make love, had made from old blankets and straw. The pallet too was covered with twigs and leaves and obviously had not been used for years. The fireplace, which must have been grand at one time, was cracked, falling apart, and its hearth was covered with ashes that had been cold for half a decade or more.

  But it was a shelter, and it appeared safe enough. It would be as good a place as any to wait for Kar-hinter.

  I went back for Sally and the count, not looking forward to carrying the injured man that far.

  When I returned, Sally appeared to be asleep. I stood over her for just a moment, looking down at her lush body which was not really covered by the torn gown, and for an instant I thought about doing exactly what I had told her I wasn't going to do to her. She did look inviting. But, hell, I told myself, this certainly wasn't the time or the place -- and certainly not with Sally von Heinen, who hated my guts.

  And, as I said, she did remind me a little of Kristin, and I remembered how she had been raped when she was seventeen by a gang of savage thugs, and I didn't think I could bring myself to act the way those bastards had.

  I shook her gently,

  "Wake up."

  Her eyes opened with a start.

  "I'm going to hide the car," I said. "Then we're going to take a little walk."

  She just sat there and looked at me and hated me.

  And I can't say that I blamed her too much.

  11

  The Cabin

  Count von Heinen was still breathing, if weakly, and his pulse was a faint, though steady, thump under my finger when we finally arrived at the ruins of the cabin. Once or twice as we made the short trip that seemed to me to be miles long, he had stirred, jerked fitfully as if attempting to awaken from his unconscious slumber. He hadn't quite made it, and I wondered if he would ever awaken again unless he received medical attention soon. The bullet had been in his stomach for something like nine hours now, and no aid had been given him other than Kearns' compress and bandages. If Kar-hinter expected to get him alive, he'd damned well better hurry.

  Inside the cabin's single surviving room, Sally brushed the accumulation of debris from the old, moldy, rotten pallet, and I carefully laid the count on it. Surprisingly enough the wound had not begun to bleed again during the time I had carried him to the cabin, and I was grateful for that.

  As for myself, well, I didn't feel that I was in much better condition than he was. I ached in every muscle and joint, and the graze wound in my side was a burning flame, and I wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep for a week or two. But that would have to wait until after Kar-hinter came.

  "Sit down," I briskly told the count's wife and took a piece of rope from my pocket to retie her hands.

  "Do you mind . . ." She started to ask, then stopped short.

  "Mind what?"

  "Well, I have to go to the bathroom."

  "There's no indoor plumbing here," I told her, "but there's a big world outside. I doubt that anyone would mind your using it."

  "You'd trust me to go outside alone?"

  "No."

  She sat there glaring at me for a moment, then asked, "You wouldn't take my word?"

  "I'll wait."

  "For what?" I asked her. "If you've got to go, you've got to go."

  "With you watching?"

  I shrugged.

  After a while she said, "Okay," very bitterly, and I followed her outside the cabin where she squatted on the ground, filled with shame, and relieved herself.

  "I hope you enjoyed that, you degenerate voyeur," she said as she rose.

  "No, not particularly," I said. "It's just a biological function."

  She spat on the ground in front of me.

  Hell, even beautiful women are human beings. I learned that a long time ago. And at about the same time I learned that it's nothing to be ashamed of, being a human being.

  When we got back into the cabin, I asked her if she'd like to put her robe back on. Maybe she'd be less self-conscious.

  "What haven't you seen by now?" she asked.

  "Not much."

  "I'll leave the robe off for a while."

  "Okay," I said, "I won't tie your hands, but you'd better just sit quietly on the floor. I have something that I have to do myself."

  Clearing a space on the floor I removed my coat and quickly reassembled the radio. Before, I had still been wary of letting her see it, but now I felt safe enough. Barring a catastrophe I couldn't foresee, Sally would never tell anyone about this device that was alien to her world. Kar-hinter would come -- soon, I hoped -- she would be taken to an interrogation station, and during the painless mind probe her memories of this event, in fact, of everything that had happened since the predawn hours when we burst into the villa, would be removed. She would have no memories of strange men with stranger machines to spread to the rest of her world. Though by this time I already had the suspicion that Sally knew a lot more about Timeliners than she was willing to admit, maybe a lot that even I didn't know.

  She didn't speak as I assembled the transceiver, nor did she speak as I began to broadcast in Shangalis.

  "Red leader, this is red mobile. Come in, red leader."

  "This is Kar-hinter, Eric," said a tinny voice from the earphone. "Have you found a place of shelter?"

  "Yes," I acknowledged. "I believe we're safe enough here."

  "How is the count?"

  "Still unconscious," I told him. "He's in pretty bad shape. You'd better hurry."

  "I am doing the best I can," the Krith said. "But I must wait my turn. Skudders seem to be much in demand across the Lines today."

  "Don't you have priority?"

  "A high priority, yes, but not the highest. There are more important Lines than this one, you know."

  I halfway wondered whether he might be wrong about that.

  "How soon?" I asked.

  "As yet I do not know." He paused. "Keep broadcasting. We are taking a fix on you now."

  Two, three, or more direction finders were now beaming in on my transmitter, determining the exact location of it in relationship to the base stations. With no other radio signals to confuse them and with the kind of gear they had, it shouldn't be difficult for them to locate my position quite closely.

  "You are sure of your safety?" Kar-hinter asked.

  "Fairly sure. No one seems to have visited this place in years."

  "Very well. Leave your unit on. As soon as I know when we will be able to come in for you, I will let you know. That is all for now. Red leader out."

  I sighed with frustration, but there wasn't anything more I could do. It would have to be up to Kar-hinter now.

  "Very well. Red mobile out."

  I removed the earphone and laid it and the microphone beside the tiny block of the transceiver. I would leave it on for a while, then check back with Kar-hinter. The power cell inside the plastic block was good for hours of continuous operation.

  Then I looked at Sally.

  During the whole operation she had watched me with interest, but without astonishment, as if this were something she had rather expected.

  "Who are you?" she asked as I found a fairly comfortable place to sit, pulled one of my few remaining cigarettes from my pocket, and lit it with a real lighter. I laid the energy pistol on the floor beside me; it was uncomfortable stuck in my belt when I was sitting down.

  "Captain Eric Mathers, Royal British Army, Colonial Corps," I said flatly. I did not really expect her to believe it.

  "No," she said, shaking her head. "You're no Englishman."

  "I'm an American."

  "American!" She almost laughed. "That wasn't English you were speaking just now."

  "It was code."

  "It didn't sound like code to me. It sounded like a formalized language."

  "Have it your own way," I said, somewhat annoyed at her cross-examination, but also glad that she had finally begun to speak. Perhaps if she continued to talk, I would be able to learn a little of what she knew. I was damned curious.
Maybe she was, too. Maybe that's why she was talking.

  "Where are you from?" she asked,

  "Virginia."

  "Where in Virginia?"

  "Victoria."

  She smiled. "Do you know George Carter?"

  The name meant nothing to me. It had been mentioned in none of the training tapes that the Kriths had fed into me when building my phony background, but still I thought I'd play it safe, though I had little hope of fooling her or little reason to, now. It was a game.