He put the phone down turned and opened a drawer in the desk behind him and I was numb enough to let him do it. When the coin finally dropped it was too late. As I jumped forward he spun about with a large weapon in his hand, aimed and steady.
“I wouldn’t, if I were you. I hunt, you know, and I am a first-class shot. I would also have no slightest compunction in shooting you. In the back if needs be,” he added as I turned away. I turned around again and smiled.
“Wfll dnnp ffirnfiral. Intfilipenff was fnnff•rnfd about the quality of your orientation talks and I was sent here to,
you know, try to irritate you. And I promise not to repeat your remarks about the industrial-military complex. I come from a poor family so I do not enjoy any of your advantages.”
“Is that true?” Morton gasped.
“It is—and you are under arrest. There, one traitor caught, Gow, so some good has come of our conversation.” His eyes narrowed but the gun never moved. “Do you expect me to believe that?”
“No. But I can show you my identification.” I smiled and reached into the empty back pocket of my new uniform.
He might have been a good shot when it came to blasting helpless animals or paper targets, but he had no combat experience. For a single instant his eyes looked down toward my moving hand. Which was all the time I needed. My other hand was already chopping the inside of his wrist, moving the gun aside. It hissed once and something slammed into the wall behind me. Morton screeched with fright and jumped aside. Before Gow could fire again my knee came up into his stomach.
The gun dropped to the floor and he dropped beside it. I took a deep and shuddering breath and let it out with a sigh.
“Well done, Jim,” I said, and reached over my shoulder and patted myself on the back. “All the reflexes working fine.”
Morton bulged his eyes at me, then down at the silent form of the corporal. “What’s happening… ?” he gurgled in confusion.
“Exactly what you see. I’ve rendered the corporal unconscious before he did us bodily harm. And you are not under arrest since that was just a ruse. So now, quickly before someone comes, push that desk up against the entrance since you can see that the door has no lock.” I bent and retrieved the weapon in case the scion of millions came to earlier than planned. And what was I going to do with the poor little rich boy? I looked down at his recumbent form and inspiration struck.
“You are a genius,” I bragged aloud. “You deserve
TUB CT&MII MC CTkCI BAT nBT” nBABTHn another pat which you will get later because now speed is of the essence.” I bent and began to unbutton his uniform. “The uniform, that is the key, the uniform. They will be looking for a ragged recruit in baggy fatigues. Not a spifiy corporal in tailormades. You have earned this promotion, Jim. Go to the head of the class.”
I tore off his shoes and pulled his trousers free—and whistled. His underpants were woven of gold thread. Rich is as rich does. It was chance, pure chance, that he was a little overweight from a lifetime of good living. My muscles took the place of his fat and the uniform could have been made for me. Except the shoes; he had.
very tiny feet. My boots would have to do. I emptied his pockets and found, in addition to a great deal of money and a container of sinister-looking black cigarettes, a small pocketknife. This worked admirably in cutting my discarded clothing into strips with which I bound the corporal securely, wadded more of ‘the cloth into a gag. He was breathing easily through his nose so my conscience was clear that he would not die of suffocation.
“Are you going to kill him?” Morton asked.
“No, but I want him quiet until I put the next part of the plan into operation.” I’m glad that Morton didn’t ask what that was since I didn’t know yet. There were no closets in the room so the corporal could not be stuffed out of sight. The desk—-that was it!
“Morton,” I ordered. “Stand with your back to the door and think like a lock. If anyone tries to open it lean hard against it.”
While he leaned and thought lockish I dragged the desk back into position and wedged the bound corporal under it. By reflex I went through the desk drawers, which were all empty except the top one which had a folder of papers. I tucked these under my arm. Then I stepped back and examined my handiwork. Admirable. The corporal was well out of sight. Anyone who glanced into the room wmild think it emntv.
“Now—-what next?” I said cheerily. Then felt the smile slip from my face.
“Yes!” Morton agreed eagerly. “What happens next?” I shook myself, took a brace and tried to think positively. “For one thing—-there is no going back. So let us seek out a way forward. When they find the corporal they will find out our names quickly enough. By which time we must have new names. Which means we go to the personnel section and make a few changes.”
Morton was blinking very rapidly now. “Jak, old friend, don’t you feel well? I don’t understand a word that you are saying.”
“Doesn’t matter—as long as I do.” I unloaded the gun, put the power charge in my pocket and the empty weapon back in the drawer. “March ahead of me, do as I command. Go! As soon as you have opened the door a crack to see if the coast is clear.”
It was. We marched out, stamping and striding in a very military fashion, me clutching my sheaf of papers, Morton hopefully clutching to his few remaining shards of sanity. One, two, one, two. Around the corner and almost into the arms of a red-capped military policeman.
“Squad halt! Stand at ease!” I screamed. Morton halted with a decided sway and shudder, showing the whites of his eyes as he rolled them toward the MP. “Eyes front!” I shrieked. “I gave no orders for you to move your eyes.” The MP, wise in military ways, paid us absolutely no attention until I called out to him. “Just hold it, there, private.”
“Me, corporal?” he asked, stopping and turning.
“You are the only thing moving that I can see. Your pocket is unbuttoned. But this is my generous day. Just point us toward the Personnel Building and keep moving. “
“Straight ahead, right on the company street, past the bandstand, left at the torture chamber and there you are.” He scurried away, groping at his shirt pockets to find the open one. Morton was shivering and sweating and I– patted him on the back.
“Relax, my friend. As long as you have the rank you can do what you want in the army. Ready to go on?”
He nodded and stumbled forward. I marched after him, shouting commands at the corners, marking time, being noisy, obnoxious and abusive so I would not be noticed. A sad commentary indeed on the reality of military life.
The Personnel Building was large and industrious with plenty ofto-ing and fro-ing from the front entrance. As we started toward it Morton came to a halt and stood at attention, swaying. “W-what are you going to do?” He whispered huskily and I saw that he was shaking with fear.
“Relax old buddy, all is under control,” I said, leafing through the handful of papers to cover this unmilitary pause. “Just follow me, do as I say, and in a few minutes w~ will have vanished without trace.”
“Well really vanish without trace if we go in there! We’ll be caught, tortured, killed…”
“Silence!” I shouted into his ear and he leaped as though lie had been shot. “You will not talk. You will not think! You will only obey or you will be in the cagal so deep you will never see the light of day again!”
A passing sergeant smiled and nodded approval so I knew I was on the right track. I hated to do this to Morton but it was the only way. “Left face—forward march!” His skin was pale, his eyes rolled up, his mind empty of conscious thought. He could only obey. Up the steps we went and through the entrance toward the armed military policemen stationed there.