The Sleepers Page 4

  "No!" Shane’s voice sounded sharp.

  "I must have Celia’s address," Kennof insisted.

  Kennof was afraid that Shane might hang up on him but after a long pause he resumed the conversation

  again. "Celia has quit the profession. We should let it go at that. You can find somebody else."

  "Nobody but Celia will do. She’s sore at me because of the Fainer affair; she believes I informed on her. Nobody regrets more than I that she was fired, Shane."

  "She was never dismissed," Shane said with emphasis.

  "You don’t say!" Kennof called out.

  "She was completely rehabilitated and then quit voluntarily."

  "What’s her address?" Kennof repeated.

  "I don’t want you to bother her with your snooping, so I better give it to you," Shane relented and looked up Celia’s present whereabouts.

  "Thank you," Kennof said with a sigh of relief. "I promise you I’ll use the utmost tact. Please tell this to your leader."

  An interference in the line made Shane’s voice sound weak. "What else do you want of me?"

  "Not much," the detective said modestly. "However, I could use, most of all, a micro-deflector so that I can move around the caves without being seen. Furthermore you could get me a miniature detector camouflaged as a ring or something that is equally inconspicuous."

  "Is that all?" Shane exclaimed flabbergasted. "How do you think I could do that?"

  "Perhaps you can send it over to me together with a little radio-transceiver," Kennof suggested without inhibitions.

  "Why do you need a transceiver? Do you expect to get into trouble?"

  "I’m afraid I will. In that case I’d like to notify you of my difficulties so that you can perhaps persuade your noble leader to intervene on my behalf." Kennof was silent for a few seconds. "Of course we need a code word."

  "What shall it be?" Shane asked curiously.

  "Pellucidar," Kennof suggested off the top of his head. "It was my favorite movie when I was a kid..."

  • • •

  During the next four days Kennof was busy with preparations. After his meeting with Gaston Hartz the financial expert spread the word that Kennof had ruined himself by ill-advised purchases of stocks. Hartz insisted on buying the worthless papers in order to make the deception look more real. The owners of the securities which had lost their value were glad to get rid of them and agreed to hush up the deal. Thus Kennof became a big stockholder although the value of his stock was virtually nil. Hartz manipulated his arrangements so well he very nearly convinced Kennof himself that he had bought these securities for horrendous prices and now was unable to find buyers for them. After a personal ‘audit’ of Kennof’s books he also determined that the detective had squandered enormous sums on antiques. Hartz produced bills, receipts and other documents that almost brought tears to the eyes of Kennof when he read the figures.

  "Hartz," he said to the accountant, "you’re a very likable man but I wouldn’t like to trade horses with you. You’re shrewder than I am."

  Hartz chuckled and ‘proved’ to Kennof that his debt amounted to 26,000 Solars.

  • • •

  The spring sun began to warm the roofs of the city. Kennof walked from the shadow of the tall building to the other side of the street where Tommy’s Tavern was squeezed in between the high-rise buildings.

  Although it was still early in the morning the owner had already turned on his illuminated sign which competed in vain with the bright sunlight.

  Kennof glanced back at his car parked at the curb. He would have liked to look into the tavern before he entered but the curtains were drawn.

  He passed through the swinging doors. At one of the five tables a man had cradled his head in his arms. A woman was busy making sandwiches. She had obviously failed to notice that Kennof came in.

  Kennof sat down on a stool and took off his hat. "Hi, Celia!" he said.

  The girl put down her knife. She was still young, perhaps a little over 25, but her face already reflected a certain tiredness. She looked at Kennof and said in an impassive tone that betrayed no anger: "What can I do for you?" Her hair was pinned up. Although she was not especially beautiful she looked very attractive. "Shane told me you’d come to see me but he refused to tell me why."

  Kennof peered at the customer at the table. "How about him?"

  "He’s asleep," Celia replied.

  The detective looked at her in silence and said after awhile in a casual tone: "I’d like you to work for me."

  Celia’s dark eyes studied him for a moment. "As you can see, I’ve already got a job."

  "This isn’t your line of work, Celia," Kennof stated with emphasis. "You might talk yourself into believing for a time that you like this sort of thing but it’ll get you down sooner or later."

  The girl answered sarcastically: "And you want to save me from this fate, Dick?"

  Kennof raised both hands. "Celia, I don’t want to hurt your pride. I don’t offer you charity, I’m asking your assistance."

  She seemed to wait for further explanations before she answered. Kennof said with a twinkle in his eyes: "How would it strike your fancy to become my fiancée, Celia?"

  "Like an invitation to suicide!" Celia retorted.

  Kennof chortled. "Very flattering, I must say, but you ought to like the idea much better when I tell you a little more about it. You’ll be a very naughty girlfriend. Besides being unfaithful you’ll splurge my money and ruin my good reputation. Then I’ll try to kill you but I’ll bungle the job despite my frantic efforts."

  "What’s this all about?" Celia inquired without professing particular interest.

  "I want to demonstrate to the Intertime Sleeping Corporation in Wyoming that my mental equilibrium is jeopardized unless they grant me permission to sleep in their arms," Kennof said dryly. "Not only do I have a sullied bride but I’m drowning in debts to boot. This should suffice for my purpose."

  Celia was noticeably intrigued. "If you have all those debts they’re likely to reject you," she warned.

  "You underestimate good old Hartz, Celia. He’ll swear that I directed him to sell all my earthly possessions as soon as I’ve gone to sleep. This is sure to cover my debts and the ISC won’t have to assume any risks. But before Hartz has to go through with all this, I’ll have dug up all the information I need about the company. I’ll return dolefully and cancel my instructions to Hartz. He’ll act indignant but the ISC will be fooled. If, on the other hand, my suspicion that there’s something unkosh about that company turns out to be correct, they’ll confer medals on Hartz and me. Hartz is going to pawn his and I..."

  Celia shut him up with a gesture. "Dick, do you have any legal authority for your action?"

  Kennof looked at her with mournful eyes.

  "You never learn, do you?" she questioned him.

  "That’s right," he admitted.

  "And your mind is made up to go ahead whether I’ll help you or not?"

  "Definitely." he assured her.

  Celia said simply with a smile: "OK, Svengali, I guess you’ve hypnotized me."

  Kennof leaned forward and said with ardor: "It’ll be like old times when we both..."

  "Forget it," she said acidly.

  Kennof realized that she would never get over the loss of her former interesting job. He had found satisfaction in the work at his detective agency but sometimes he felt the desire to experience the thrill of a great adventure again. It probably was due to the incomparable training he had received. The knowledge he had acquired lay fallow most of the time. But it was much more difficult for Celia to become reconciled to her new life.

  Kennof was a staunch individualist and had never been able to adjust to the rigorous discipline expected of him. He was not a man who could take orders very readily. Consequently he quit the government service, though with reluctance, and applied for a license as a private detective.

  Now Richard Kennof, the veteran agent of the Special Solar Defense Corps, ha
d joined hands again with his erstwhile colleague.

  • • •

  Three weeks later he thought the time was opportune to approach the ISC. He applied for a preservation to last 150 years. As reasons he stated the misfortunes of his business and the uncontrollable urge to kill his cheating girlfriend.

  Gaston Hartz assured him that he had made all the necessary arrangements without mistake and that the most thorough investigation by the ISC would raise no suspicions. Celia played her role brilliantly.

  Kennof sent a preliminary report to Jeanne Dunbee in Dubose. Buster was put in Celia’s care despite his violent resistance as Kennof waited daily for the invitation from the ISC to come to Cheyenne and take the examination.

  When he paid a last visit to the Department of Interior he was already a marked man—except to a few in whom he confided—who had nothing but creditors and a slut as a fiancée.

  • • •

  Snyder regarded Kennof with some admiration. "The fact that you’ve succeeded in getting as far as my office deserves a certain respect," he said in his convoluted manner. "Notwithstanding the opprobrium which your memory stirs in me, I’m ready to lend you my ear for a few minutes."

  Kennof restrained from informing Snyder about the true facts of the battle he had fought together with Shane against the despicable dealers who had brought narcotic drugs from the Vega Sector to Terra. Instead he confined himself to inquiring "Sir, you’ve led the last inspection team on the premises of the ISC. May I ask you a few questions about it?"

  "I’m restricted to supplying official information," Snyder made his reservations. "You can’t expect me to pass on to you information of a confidential nature."

  Kennof suppressed a remark that he had certain rights as a taxpayer. Officials of the Interior Department exhibited little sense of humor and Snyder was a case in point. "I understand, sir," the detective replied politely. "However I’d like to know whether you’ve personally viewed some of the people who are sleeping in the cell-plasma."

  Snyder raised his eyebrows in a studied move to show concern. "We’ve thoroughly inspected the containers, Mr. Kennof. The people inside are clearly visible since the walls of the sleeping chambers are transparent," he said after coughing slightly. We’ve checked the inmates against a complete list of names which have been filed in our Department. The ISC is obligated to file a copy of each contract with us so that we’re in a position to determine if any criminal elements are trying to escape apprehension by the state and foil justice."

  "Did you notice anything at all which in your opinion was irregular or inexplicable?" Kennof continued his query.

  "The entire project of the ISC is, to say the least, unusual," Snyder countered gravely. "I don’t claim to be an expert in this area and it is therefore only natural that some of their procedures are quite puzzling to me. However I’ve been assured by our specialists that the SC is run in an exemplary fashion and that there exists no cause for us to intervene in their operations. Do you happen to be in possession of information to the contrary, Mr. Kennof?"

  "Not at all," the former agent stressed. "I’m interested in the ISC for private reasons."

  Snyder engaged in the official version of a snorting laugh. "Are you trying to tell me that you intend to make a reservation at the ISC for yourself?"

  "You need only examine your copies of the contracts to find this out without trouble," Kennof replied calmly.

  He left the Interior Department with a bad feeling in his guts. Maybe he had drawn a dud with this assignment. Everybody seemed to give the ISC a clean bill of health, including Snyder. Kennof had no inclination to waste his time. He had not yet received an answer from Cheyenne and he could still withdraw his application.

  If Edmond Cascane, one of Kennof’s assistants whom he had directed to investigate the past history of the ISC, failed to come up with something tangible, he would drop his plan.

  Kennof went back to his car and chased away a few boys who were fascinated by the abstract paint job of the vehicle. He started the engine and looked thoughtfully at the imposing government office building of glass and steel. When he drove off he didn’t know that Cascane already held a surprise in store for him.

  Edmond Cascane was an elderly, almost bald-headed man with darting eyes. He piled a mountain of papers on Kennof’s desk. Cascane breathed audibly and wiped some imaginary sweat from his forehead. Kennof looked at him solicitously and began to scan the stack of papers.

  "Most of this stuff is rather uninteresting," Cascane commented with the studied calm of a man about to drop a bombshell. He watched attentively as Kennof pushed the files away.

  "Don’t keep me on tenterhooks, Ed! Shoot!" the ex-agent said.

  Cascane fished out a single sheet from his coat pocket and waved it in front of his boss’ nose. Kennof managed to snatch the secret away from him.

  "All this says is that a certain Fedor Piotrowski has miserably failed his exam as a doctor of medicine," Kennof muttered disappointedly after he read it.

  "That very same man is now taking care of the ISC customers in the caves as Dr. Piotrowski," Cascane ominously announced. "How do you like that?"

  Kennof rubbed his jutting chin pensively. "He could have passed his exam later," he surmised.

  The assistant shook his homely head. "But he didn’t, Dick. I’ve checked everywhere. Piotrowski must have presented faked credentials to the ISC to get the position."

  "Or the ISC has finagled it for him," Kennof suggested.

  "Our phony doctor came from Canada," Cascane continued his report. "He burned all bridges behind him and nobody at home knows where he vanished."

  Kennof banged his fist on the table. "This decides it for me," he declared, "I’m going to Cheyenne."

  "Here are a bunch of newspaper clippings," Cascane said in a weak attempt to draw the attention of his boss to some more papers. "And these are my reports about interviews with people who’ve had some dealings with the ISC."

  But Kennof already tried to figure out how he could hide his essential instruments in the caves as soon as he arrived.

  The problem became acute two days later when the ISC advised him to come to Cheyenne for his appointment.

  4/ USELESS KNOWLEDGE

  M’Artois stood at the window, turning his back to Richard Kennof and giving the detective a creepy feeling. The psychologist knew all the tricks of his trade. His benign attitude concealed a penetrating faculty of perception combined with an unusually sharp mind. M’Artois tried to trap him with seemingly innocent questions whose significance Kennof sometimes realized only at the last moment. Only the fact that he had been trained in such psychological tactics in the Solar Defense Corps saved him from getting caught with his answers.

  Kennof became more and more convinced that the Sleeping Corporation made no attempt to rekindle his interest in life but conducted a regular interrogation. M’Artois bored his way through all aspects of his imaginary life and didn’t shy away from questions about his most intimate relations. Kennof broke out in a sweat and several times feared that he had been unmasked. However so far all had gone well.

  M’Artois gave Kennof another one of his probing looks. "You’ve mentioned Mr. Hartz. How was it possible that such a highly skilled financial adviser permitted you to invest your money in such speculative stocks?"

  "It was simply a matter of being fed up with the tutelage of Mr. Hartz," Kennof explained. "I wanted to show that smartzy that I can get along without him. Unfortunately everything went down the drain."

  "Such behavior is commensurate with your individualistic character," M’Artois agreed and Kennof breathed a little easier. "However, you could remedy your situation by taking the advice of Mr. Hartz to improve your financial predicament."

  Kennof saw his hopes punctured again. "It’s not only a matter of money. You know the trouble I have with my girlfriend. Once I came close to killing her. I seem to lose my mind when I think about her frivolous escapades."

  "But you lov
e her in spite of everything?"

  Kennof hung his head in shame. I should have become an actor , he thought.

  The psychologist gave him a beautiful lecture which was apparently aimed at persuading him that it was worthwhile to continue his life but it was clear to Kennof that his words were designed to arouse the defiance of those people whom the ISC considered harmless. As M’Artois praised the world, he created an unconscious rejection in the mind of his depressed listeners. However there was nothing illegal in his treatment and Kennof could not draw any incriminating conclusions about the total operations of the corporation.

  "Are you still willing to sign a contract with the Sleeping Corporation?" M’Artois finally asked.

  "But certainly," the new candidate confirmed.

  "You’ll have to pass a medical examination by which we must determine whether you meet our physical standards. By the way, are you amputated?"

  Kennof denied his question. By now he was firmly convinced that the ISC was involved in some kind of a fraud but he didn’t have the faintest idea what it could be. Was it a scheme which was pursued by some greedy and corrupt employees of the corporation or did it include the whole outfit and Cavanaugh himself? What was the real purpose of the enterprise? Were they only in business to make money?

  The man who could have enlightened Richard Kennof about some of the sinister designs of the ISC was now in the grip of a power which Kennof would never have suspected as being behind the Intertime Sleeping Corporation.

  Maurice Dunbee had learned the lesson but his knowledge was useless because he was neither on Terra nor any other planet in this Galaxy.

  5/ CAUGHT!

  Small beads of sweat had formed on Kennof’s forehead. Clinkskate couldn’t suspect that his visitor had begun to perspire for fear of being detected, he took it as a sign of Kennof’s jitters, which attacked everyone who entered the eaves of the ISC to be embalmed in the liquid of the large containers.