“I thought of that. I’d buy it, except for one fact. Apparently you didn’t time the interval between the shots and the arrival of the tanks.”
“Sorry, Chief.” Herkimer’s face was a study in chagrin. “I made a bad slip there.”
“I’ll say you did. One minute and fifty eight seconds.”
“What!”
Morgan remained silent.
“The patrol is fast, of course … and always ready … and they would yank the stuff in on tractor beams, not under their own power … but even so … five minutes, is my guess, Chief. Four and a half, absolute minimum.”
“Check. And where do you go from there?”
“I see your point. I don’t. That blows everything wide open. One set of facts says there was a leak, which occurred between two and a half and three minutes before the signal was given. I ask you, Chief, does that make sense?”
“No. That’s what is bothering me. As you say, the facts seem to be contradictory. Somebody must have learned something before anything happened; but if they did, why didn’t they do more? And Murgatroyd. If they didn’t know about him, why the ships—especially the big battlewagons? If they did think he might be out there somewhere, why didn’t they go and find out?”
“Now I’ll ask one. Why didn’t our Mr. Murgatroyd do something? Or wasn’t the pirate fleet supposed to be in on this? Probably not, though.”
“My guess would be the same as yours. Can’t see any reason for having a fleet cover a one-man operation, especially as well-planned a one as this was. But that’s none of our business. These Lensmen are. I was watching them every second. Neither Samms nor Kinnison did anything whatever during that two minutes.”
“Young Kinnison and Northrop each left the hall about that time.”
“I know it. So they did. Either one of them could have called the Patrol—but what has that to do with the price of beef C.I.F. Valeria?”
Herkimer refrained tactfully from answering the savage question. Morgan drummed and thought for minutes, then went on slowly:
“There are two, and only two, possibilities; neither of which seem even remotely possible. It was—must have been—either the Lens or the girl.”
“The girl? Act your age, Senator. I knew where she was, and what she was doing, every second.”
“That was evident.” Morgan stopped drumming and smiled cynically. “I’m getting a hell of a kick out of seeing you taking it, for a change, instead of dishing it out.”
“Yes?” Herkimer’s handsome face hardened. “That game isn’t over, my friend.”
“That’s what you think,” the Senator jibed. “Can’t believe that any woman can be Herkimer-proof, eh? You’ve been working on her for six weeks now, instead of the usual six hours, and you haven’t got anywhere yet.”
“I will, Senator.” Herkimer’s nostrils flared viciously. “I’ll get her, one way or another, if it’s the last thing I ever do.”
“I’ll give you eight to five you don’t; and a six-month time limit.”
“I’ll take five thousand of that. But what makes you think that she’s anything to be afraid of? She’s a trained psychologist, yes; but so am I; and I’m older and more experienced than she is. That leaves that yoga stuff—her learning how to sit cross-legged, how to contemplate her navel, and how to try to get in tune with the infinite. How do you figure that puts her in my class?”
“I told you, I don’t. Nothing makes sense. But she is Virgil Samms’ daughter.”
“What of it? You didn’t gag on George Olmstead—you picked him yourself for one of the toughest jobs we’ve got. By blood he’s just about as close to Virgil Samms as Virgilia is. They might as well have been hatched out of the same egg.”
“Physically, yes. Mentally and psychologically, no. Olmstead is a realist, a materialist. He wants his reward in this world, not the next, and is out to get it. Furthermore, the job will probably kill him, and even if it doesn’t, he will never be in a position of trust or where he can learn much of anything. On the other hand, Virgil Samms is—but I don’t need to tell you what he is like. But you don’t seem to realize that she’s just like him—she isn’t playing around with you because of your overpowering charm. …”
“Listen, Chief. She didn’t know anything and she didn’t do anything. I was dancing with her all the time, as close as that,” he clasped his hands tightly together, “so I know what I’m talking about. And if you think she could ever learn anything from me, skip it. You know that nobody on Earth, or anywhere else, can read my face; and besides, she was playing coy right then—wasn’t even looking at me. So count her out.”
“We’ll have to, I guess.” Morgan resumed his quiet drumming. “If there were any possibility that she pumped you I’d send you to the mines, but there’s no sign … that leaves the Lens. It has seemed, right along, more logical than the girl—but a lot more fantastic. Been able to find out anything more about it?”
“No. Just what they’ve been advertising. Combination radiophone, automatic language-converter, telepath, and so on. Badge of the top skimmings of the top-bracket cops. But I began to think, out there on the floor, that they aren’t advertising everything they know.”
“So did I. You tell me.”
“Take the time zero minus three minutes. Besides the five Lensmen—and Jill Samms—the place was full of top brass; scrambled eggs all over the floor. Commodores and lieutenant-Commodores from all continental
