He got busy opening another box. It was a screen like a Homeviewer, but much tinier. "The result is that whatever the subject is looking at appears on this screen."
"Three-dimensional?" I said.
"Oh, no, I'm sorry. It has not advanced that far. But the picture is absolutely brilliant!"
"Range?" I said.
"The activator-receiver can be within two hundred miles of the subject." Ow! How do you run somebody in the United States when you are in Turkey? Too many miles! "Too short a distance," I said.
"Ah, then you would need the 831 Relayer," he said. And he tapped another box. "It boosts it to ten thousand miles. The respondo-mitter signal is picked up by the receiver and it in turn, when connected to the 831 Relayer, resends the signal." He had me breathing again. I had thought all this was for nothing.
For the colonel's benefit I pretended to inspect the parts numbers of the receiver, relayer and the view-screen. Then I said, "But this doesn't take care of sound."
"Ah," said Spurk, proudly. He opened another box. He took the tweezers and held up a tiny object not unlike the first. "This is the simple one. Sound operates on bone resonance. This audio-respondo-mitter can be placed a millimeter or two from the optical one. The samereceiver, relayer and screen have audio channels. Our scientists have thought of everything." Except what an Apparatus officer is liable to do, I thought.
"So," I said, "these two devices, inserted in the vicinity of the temple or eye will carry everything the subject sees and hears to a point within two hundred miles which then can be relayed to a point ten thousand miles. The wave is new?"
"Undetectable! Nonobstructable. No known meters will register it. Actually, it is a very long wave acting as a carrier and conduit for a side band."
"Emotions?" I said.
"Oh, I am sorry. The scientists didn't think of that. I will make a note. Emotions. Good idea. Just sight and sound, I am afraid."
"How about hypnopulsars," I said. "You know, when you strike a button, the subject goes into a trance."
"Oh, I am sorry. We make those but we are all out of stock. Not one in the place." (Bleep). "How about electric jolts to get the subject under control?"
"Oh, those. We did have some. We made up an order for the Apparatus but there is not one left here." (Bleep), (Bleep)!
But I winked at the colonel covertly. "How many of these cranial devices here do you have? How many complete sets?"
"Just two," he said. "They are not production line yet. But we can make them up."
"Let's see the two sets, with all parts and spares and power packs," I said.
He started to lay them out. "Power packs are no problem. It's a two-year, nonfail, all-weather. We had the Army in mind. A spy in enemy territory does not have to report, you see. His superiors just pick up everything he sees and hears. It is reporting by other means that gets spies caught. One can practically be on the other side of a planet and obtain everything wanted from a spy." I was pretending to look at the numbers on the items. Really I was looking to make very sure that everything was here.
He had two sets of boxes stacked up. They were not very massive. I inspected carefully to make certain. "You sure this is all?"
"Absolutely. Spares, power packs, everything. Here's even the installation instructions. It is. I'm afraid, in technical language as it's intended for a professional cellologist, but I am sure the Army has lots of those." He laughed.
That was the last laugh he had this life.
I stepped back, drew my bladegun and shot him in the throat.
The colonel, startled with the fly of blood, was not the steady old campaigner I had thought he would be. I would have supposed he could add it up. I had found a parts duplicate, I was executing the offender. He didn't add it up. He grabbed for his gun! He was turning toward me!
What can you expect of Supply?
"What the Hells are you doing?" he roared at me.
But my concern was not to have a blastgun going off near that sensitive equipment. The resulting magnetic shock waves might disarrange it or something!
The colonel did not get his gun further than pointing at my shoes.
I shot him in the throat! He staggered back. He dropped the gun as he clutched at his throat.
My plans had gone awry. I had thought the colonel would understand. I was a bit off-balance.
Boots were hammering in through the back door!
I had forgotten the driver!
He stopped twenty feet from me. He saw his colonel writhing and dying on the floor in a spatter of blood.
The driver drew his gun. He pointed and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. And then he did something silly. He dropped the gun and grabbed a bayonet out of his boot and started a lunge for me.
I fired and missed! (Bleep) the inaccuracy of a bladegun! It only contained one more blade!
The bayonet was up and coming down. I fired! I rolled to the side.
The driver drove the bayonet two inches into the floor. He fell on it, dead.
Ow, what a slaughterhouse! Blood all over the place! But I reached for the boxes.
"Stiffen, Gris!" It came from the door to the next room! A blastgun pointing.
Chapter 6
My own gun was empty. And that blastgun over there was very steady.
I was caught!
With the act witnessed and the bodies in full view!
A sinister, dark figure edged into the room.
"I told you, you made mistakes, Gris." It was Raza Torr! Provocation Section Chief!
He lifted an object he was holding in his left hand. "I've got full pictures of the entire action here, Gris. Throw down that gun." No point in not doing so. It was empty.
"You're so inept, Gris."
"Call in your men," I said.
"Oh, there are no men. I can handle you. In this camera I have just put everything you just did. It also holds your meeting with the woman outside the hypnotist's office – and that, by the way, was pretty clever, she's been executed by now. I also have your approach to that cellologist in Slum City and I have no doubt he'll be dead shortly. I have your meeting with this dumb (bleepard) of a colonel in the Dirt Club. And I have this very messy mess you just made, totally complete." Talking isn't shooting. Keep him talking. "Then you were the one that blew up my airbus in the Blike Mountains!"
"Andgot back that counterfeit money before you, you dumb idiot, could spread it all around and start an investigation that would lead back to us. You don't mess up by halves, Gris."
"You tried to kill me out there," I said offendedly. "What a thing for a brother Apparatus officer to do!"
"I didn't know that you had a magic-mail setup to send those pictures of me to the Commander of the Death Battalion. That's all you owe your life to right this minute. I WANT THOSE ORIGINALS AND ALL COPIES!" I shrugged. "I don't have them on me. They're at my office. Let me get this straight. If I turn those over to you, you will turn over that camera and its originals to me. Right?"
"You have it exactly! My Gods, I'm worn out worrying about it. Supposing somebody else killed you? And you're prime meat, Gris. So get moving. We'll go to your office."
"How'd you trail me? You're not that good."
"That reminds me you better take the bugs out of those clothes you're wearing. I put them in when you got them. You're inept, Gris." No problem about bugs in this place. They were all over the shelves. He was missing things, too.
"I'll make a bargain with you," I said. "You help me clean this up and then we'll go to my office and swap. You don't want this on the trail."