Three to Conquer (31 page)

             
The enemy mentality was searching with swiftly mounting alarm. Telepathy was completely outside its experience, nothing like it having been encountered in its native habitat. But when an astute mind fails to solve a problem on the basis of recorded data, and steps right outside of experience to seek a solution within the imagination, anything is possible.

             
At any moment, Riley was going to conceive the formerly inconceivable.

             
Then would
come
the eruption.

-

             
Casually scratching under one arm in order to have fingers near the gun, Harper said, "I don't know why I asked you. I'm not in the least interested. If you feel touchy on the subject, you can attribute my question to mere yap. I've been doing too much of that, considering the jobs waiting to be done. Go away and let me tend to my business."

             
He failed in his attempt to divert the thought-stream into another direction.

             
"He has a weapon there,"
it flowed on.
"I have seen him carrying it many a time. He has his hand on it, and cannot conceal his tenseness. He would not be like that if he knew nothing.
Therefore he knows something, in spite of all my attempts to hide it."
A puzzled pause, then,
"I came in the role of an old friend. Yet he makes ready to deal with me for what
I am."

             
Grinning at him, Harper withdrew the hand, used it to scratch his head instead. It was a mistake.

             
"By the Great Black Rock of Karsim, he can hear my thoughts!"

             
The desk went over with a crash that shook the floor as Harper dived headlong across it and grabbed the hand which Riley was digging into a pocket. Something small, oval and metallic lay in the pocket but did not come out.

             
Voicing a loud oath in no known language, Riley used his free hand to try to haul Harper from the pinioned one. He was a powerful man with a huge grip that had clamped itself unbreakably on many a struggling felon. Hauling with irresistible strength, he was caught unaware when Harper went willingly with the pull and helped it further. The unexpected co-operation sent him teetering on his heels, at which point Harper shoved with all his might.

             
Together they fell to the floor, with Harper partly on top. Riley's eyes were aflame, his features crimson as he fought to beat off his opponent long enough to get at the object in his pocket. Pinning him down was like trying to fasten an enraged tiger to the earth.

             
A thick-knuckled fist landed squarely on Harper's mouth and brought a spurt of blood from split lips. The sight of it created a horrible eagerness in Riley's features. He redoubled his efforts to throw the other off, heaving tremendously and keeping his gaze on the blood.

             
Panting as he strove to maintain his position of vantage, Harper caught a knee-thrust in the stomach, whooshed expelled breath, spat crimson drops and hoarsed, "No you don't, you
!
"
He released his hold on Riley's wrist, got a two-handed grip on his neck and dug thumbs into his windpipe.

             
At that point Norris jumped through the doorway, gun in hand, and bawled, "Break it up I Break it up, I tell you
!"

             
Riley heaved with maniac force, tossed Harper off his middle, kicked at his head as he rolled aside and missed. He shot upright, glaring at Norris and showing complete disregard of the gun. He made a motion toward his pocket, came down flat before he could touch it as Harper twisted on the floor and snatched the feet from under him.

             
Clutching each other afresh, the two threshed around with bodies squirming and legs flailing right and left. A tall filing cabinet shuddered under their impact, rocked forward, toppled and flung a shower of business papers across the office. The telephone leaped from its rack; two bottles of ink and one of paste added themselves to the mess. The combatants continued to fight fiercely amid the litter.

             
Rausch and two more agents appeared just as Norris firmed his lips and stepped forward, determined to end the battle. The four made a concerted rush that swept Harper aside and got Riley good and tight. They dragged him upright.

             
Sweating profusely, Riley stood in their grip, forced righteous indignation into his face and declaimed with plausible resentfulness, "The man's gone completely mad. He attacked me without warning, and for no reason at all; there must be something wrong with him."

             
It was said with such a natural air that Norris had a moment of wondering whether Harper had gone bad right under his nose and despite all their precautions.

             
"Feel in his pocket and see what he's got," suggested Harper. Sitting on the edge of the upended desk, he dabbed his bleeding lips with a handkerchief.

             
Norris did that, produced a grenade,
examined
it. "Army model, same as Baum used." He gazed hard-eyed at Riley. "Funny sort of thing for a police officer to ca
rr
y around, isn't it?"

             
"He's not a police officer any more," Harper put in. "And he isn't Riley either. Rush him down to the Biological Research Laboratory; they need him there at once."

             
These words created a sudden frenzy in the prisoner. His arms were held but his legs were not. He kicked Norris in the middle, tore loose,
tried
to snatch the grenade. Norris bent forward, doubled with agony, but held onto it. Riley pulled at him, gobbling and foaming, making strange whining noises and working his features almost out of recognition.

             
An agent sapped him. Riley rocked dazedly, let his hand hang. The agent slogged him again, a vicious crack devoid of mercy. Riley collapsed like an empty sack; he lay with eyes closed, his
li
ps shut and breathed with eerie bubbling sounds.

             
"I've no time for belly-kickers," said the agent.

             
Norris straightened himself painfully, his face white and strained. He held out the grenade. "Take it away someplace where it can do no harm."

             
"Same applies to the owner," Harper reminded. "Tie him up so he can't choke himself with his own fingers, and get him to the Bio Lab."

             
"Is he
—
?"

             
"Yes, he is; and it's my fault. He had entry to this office and it cost him his soul."

             
"I thought you were supposed to be able to smell them coming," Norris complained. "What's the use of us guarding you for half a mile around if they can walk in like this and—"

             
"I knew he was coming."

             
"Then why didn't you tell us? I was listening in to your conversation and thought it decidedly fishy. You were needling him for some reason or other. But seeing that you had sounded no alarm, we—"

             
"Look," said Harper firmly, "this is no time for explanations or post-mortems. Rush him to Doctor Leeming at the Bio Lab as fast as you can make it. And don't give him the slightest opportunity to finish himself on the way there. I'm giving you fair warning that if he can't escape he'll kill himself by any means at hand. He
must
be delivered alive and in one piece."

             
"All right."

             
Norris signed to the others. They lifted Riley, who now had Steel cuffs on wrists and ankles and was still unconscious. They carried him out.

             
Mopping his lips again, Harper stared moodily at the wreckage of his office. He was not really seeing it, though. He was physically and spiritually shaken, and striving to overcome it.

             
Moira came in saying, "I left all my money behind, so I couldn't—" She halted, went wide-eyed, let go a gasp. "Why, Mr. Harper, what on earth has happened?"

             
"I had a fit of sneezing."

             
Dragging his desk upright and restoring his chair to its legs, he sat and continued to ruminate while Moira scrabbled for loose papers. Then suddenly he smacked a hand to his forehead and ejaculated, "I go dafter as I get older!"

             
He dashed out while Moira knelt in the middle of the floor and gaped after him.

             
On the sidewalk, Norris and Rausch were standing with hands in pockets while watching two cruisers speed along the street.

             
Norris greeted him with, "He's gone. They'll hand him over to Leeming in no time." Then a mite doubtfully, "And I hope you know what you're doing. There'll be plenty of trouble if we've blundered in this case."

             
"You haven't dealt with the half of it yet," said Harper hurriedly. "There's a gang of them hiding in his home. What's more, I've reason to think they knew of his capture the moment he was slapped to sleep. Ten to one, it got them on the run forthwith; you'll have to move fast to nab them."

             
"We can do no more than, our best," said Norris, unimpressed and making no move.

             
"McDonald's there, and several others," Harper urged.
He scowled impatiently at the other. "Well, are you going to take action or do I have to go myself?"

             
"Easy now," Norris advised. He gave a slow smile. "We know exactly where Riley lives; he's been followed time and again."

             
"What of it?"

             
"When we carted him out, a raid on his house became the next logical step. Five cars with twenty men have gone there. They'll grab everyone they can lay hands on. Afterwards, and if necessary, we'll use you to tell us who is which."

             
"So you've been thinking ahead of me, eh?"

             
"It happens sometimes." Norris was smiling again. "You can't lead the field all the way; nobody can do that, no matter what his mental speed."

             
"Thanks for the reminder. Send a man round the garbage cans to get a few ashes, will you? I wish to put them upon my head while work proceeds."

             
He returned to the office. Moira had already succeeded in restoring some semblance of order. She filed the last of the scattered papers in the cabinet, closed it with an emphatic slam,
surveyed
him much as a long-suffering mother would regard an irresponsible child. That did nothing for his ego, either.

             
"Thank you, Angel. Now go get your lunch."

             
He waited until she had departed, picked up the phone, made a long-distance call to Leeming.

             
"A live one is on the way to you right now and, with luck, there'll be several more to come. Don't tell me what you propose to do to the first arrival. I don't want to know."

             
"Why not?"
Leeming asked, exhibiting curiosity through the visicreen. "It is somebody close to you?"

             
"Yes. A big, lumbering, good-natured cop I've known for years. I hate to think of you carving him up."