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much in advance of us overall.'
'But it must still be based on a completely new principle/ Naylor said,
intensely excited. 'Don't you see, Corngold? This might give us what
everybody's been looking for a reliable homing device! It might even/ he ended
shyly, 'mean a reduction of sentence for you.'
He blushed at the emerald malevolence that brimmed for a moment from
Corngold's eyes. If he were honest, he was beginning to find the man
frightening. There was something solid, immovable and dangerous about him. His
knowledge of an alien technology, and his obvious intelligence which came
through despite his outrageous behaviour, had dispelled the earlier impression
of him as an amusing crank. All Watson-Smythe's trained smoothness had failed
to make the slightest dent in his self-confidence; Betty remained his slave,
and Naylor privately doubted if the charge of abduction could be made to
stick. There was something ritualistic in Corngold's bru-
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Barrington Bayley
J.
189
tal treatment of her, and in her corresponding misery. It looked to Naylor as
though they were matched souls.
'I thought I had dropped plenty of hints/ Corngold said, 'that I don't really
want to come back to Earth. Betty and I
want nothing more than to remain here, thank you/
Watson-Smythe seemed amused. Tm afraid the law isn't subject to your whims,
Corngold/
'No?' Corngold's expression was bland, his eyebrows raised. 'I thought I might
be able to bribe you. How would you both like to screw Betty? She's all right
in her way just lies there like a piece of putty and lets you do which and
whatever to her/
Watson-Smythe snorted.
Corngold became annoyed. 'What is it you want, then? The fucking bracelet?
Here have it!' He went to the mattress on the floor, lifted it and brought out
a gold ornament, flinging it at Watson-Smythe. It's a piece of sodding crap
anyway I only took it because Betty had a fancy for it/
Watson-Smythe picked up the bracelet, examined it briefly, wrapped it in a
handkerchief and tucked it away in an inside pocket. 'Thanks for the evidence/
Corngold sighed. He reached for the flagon of wine and drained the dregs,
ending with a belch.
'Well, it's not the end of the world. I expect Betty will be glad to see
London again. Before you retire for the night, gentlemen, let me answer your
earlier question how I make the transition between here and Zordem. It's quite
simple, really done by zom rays again, but a different brand this time/
He went to the cupboard and brought out something that looked like a large
hologram plate camera with a square, hooded shutter about a foot on the side.
'This is really a most astonishing gadget,' he said. 'It accomplishes
long-distance travel without the use of a vehicle. I believe essentially the
forces it employs may not be dissimilar to those of the velocitator but
instead of the generator moving, it moves whatever the zom rays are trained
on. All you do is align it with wherever you want to go and step into the
beam provided you have a device at the other end to detranslate your velocity.
Neat, isn't it? The speed is fast enough to push you right through walls as
though they weren't there/
'Why, it's a matter transmitterf Naylor exclaimed admiringly.
190
The Cabinet of Oliver Naylor
'As good as/
Watson-Smythe had already guessed his danger and reached for his gun. But
Comgold was too quick for him. He trained the camera-device on the agent and
pressed a lever. The black frontal plate flickered, exactly as if a shutter
had operated as indeed one probably had. Watson-Smythe vanished. Aghast,
Naylor staggered back.
'Christ!
You've murdered him!' 'Yes! For trying to disturb our domestic harmony!'
Flustered and scared, Naylor stuttered: 'You've gone too far this time,
Corngold. You won't get away with this . . . too far.'
He scrambled for the exit. He scampered through the tunnel, slamming shut the
outer doors and disengaging the clutches so that the two habitats drifted
apart, then slamming the inner door and rushing to the control board.
In the egg-shaped room, Corngold had quickly set up the Zordem projector on a
tripod. Focusing it on the intruding habitat a few yards away through the
wall, he sighted the instrument carefully and opened the shutter for an
instant.
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Naylor and his habitat were away, projected out into the matterless lake.
Through the communicator on the control board came a faint voice. 'I'm
falling, Corngold! Help me!'
'I'll help you,' Corngold crowed, grinning his peculiar open-mouthed grin.
'I'll help you fall some more!'
He opened the shutter again. Naylor accelerated further trillions of light
years per second, carried by the irresistible force of zom rays, 'That's him
out of the way,' Corngold exclaimed with satisfaction, turning to Betty.
'Bring on the booze!'
Pale and obedient, Betty withdrew a flagon of cerise fluid and two glasses
from the matter-bank. She poured a full measure for Corn-gold, a smaller one
for herself, and sat crouching on the couch, sipping it.
'We'll move on from here pretty soon,' Corngold murmured. 'If they could find
us others can.'
He turned the opal-glowing viewscreen into the lake and surveyed the
unrelieved emptiness, drinking his wine with gusto.
Corngold's mocking farewell was the last message Naylor's habitat received [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]