The town thinned out. Farms, fields. Miles of green country. In the sky above a few transport rockets lumbered, carrying farm supplies and equipment back and forth. A small, unimportant town. Just right for Rethrick Construction. The Plant would be lost here, away from the city, away from the SP.
Jennings walked back. He entered a lunchroom, BOB’S PLACE. A young man with glasses came over as he sat down at the counter, wiping his hands on his white apron.
“Coffee,” Jennings said.
“Coffee.” The man brought the cup. There were only a few people in the lunchroom. A couple of flies buzzed, against the window.
Outside in the street shoppers and farmers moved leisurely by.
“Say,” Jennings said, stirring his coffee. “Where can a man get work around here? Do you know?”
“What kind of work?” The young man came back, leaning against the counter.
“Electrical wiring. I’m an electrician. Television, rockets, computers. That sort of stuff.”
“Why don’t you try the big industrial areas? Detroit. Chicago. New York.”
Jennings shook his head. “Can’t stand the big cities. I never liked cities.”
The young man laughed. “A lot of people here would be glad to work in Detroit. You’re an electrician?”
“Are there any plants around here? Any repair shops or plants?”
“None that I know of.” The young man went off to wait on some men that had come in. Jennings sipped his coffee. Had he made a mistake? Maybe he should go back and forget about Stuartsville, Iowa. Maybe he had made the wrong inference from the ticket stub. But the ticket meant something, unless he was completely wrong about everything. It was a little late to decide that, though.
The young man came back. “Is there any kind of work I can get here?” Jennings said. “Just to tide me over.”
“There’s always farm work.”
“How about the retail repair shops? Garages. TV.”
“There’s a TV repair shop down the street. Maybe you might get something there. You could try. Farm work pays good. They can’t get many men, anymore. Most men in the military. You want to pitch hay?”
Jennings laughed. He paid for his coffee. “Not very much. Thanks.”
“Once in a while some of the men go up the road and work. There’s some sort of Government station.”
Jennings nodded. He pushed the screen door open, stepping outside onto the hot sidewalk. He walked aimlessly for a time, deep in thought, turning his nebulous plan over and over. It was a good plan; it would solve everything, all his problems at once. But right now it hinged on one thing: finding Rethrick Construction. And he had only one clue, if it really was a clue. The ticket stub, folded and creased, in his pocket. And a faith that he had known what he was doing.
A Government station. Jennings paused, looking around him. Across the street was a taxi stand, a couple of cabbies sitting in their cabs, smoking and reading the newspaper. It was worth a try, at least. There wasn’t much else to do. Rethrick would be something else, on the surface. If it posed as a Government project no one would ask any questions. They were all too accustomed to Government projects working without explanation, in secrecy.
He went over to the first cab. “Mister,” he said, “can you tell me something?”
The cabbie looked up. “What do you want?”
“They tell me there’s work to be had, out at the Government station. Is that right?”
The cabbie studied him. He nodded.
“What kind of work is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where do they do the hiring?”
“I don’t know.” The cabbie lifted his paper.
“Thanks.” Jennings turned away.
“They don’t do any hiring. Maybe once in a long while. They don’t take many on. You better go someplace else if you’re looking for work.”
“All right.”
The other cabbie leaned out of his cab. “They use only a few day laborers, buddy. That’s all. And they’re very choosy. They don’t hardly let anybody in. Some kind of war work.”
Jennings pricked up his ears. “Secret?”
“They come into town and pick up a load of construction workers. Maybe a truck full. That’s all. They’re real careful who they pick.”
Jennings walked back toward the cabbie. “That right?”
“It’s a big place. Steel wall. Charged. Guards. Work going on day and night. But nobody gets in. Set up on top of a hill, out the old Henderson Road. About two miles and a half.” The cabbie poked at his shoulder. “You can’t get in unless you’re identified. They identify their laborers, after they pick them out. You know.”
Jennings stared at him. The cabbie was tracing a line on his shoulder. Suddenly Jennings understood. A flood of relief rushed over him.
“Sure,” he said. “I understand what you mean. At least, I think so.” He reached into his pocket, bringing out the four trinkets. Carefully, he unfolded the strip of green cloth, holding it up. “Like this?”
The cabbies stared at the cloth. “That’s right,” one of them said slowly, staring at the cloth. “Where did you get it?”
Jennings laughed. “A friend.” He put the cloth back in his pocket. “A friend gave it to me.”
He went off, toward the Intercity field. He had plenty to do, now that the first step was over. Rethrick was here, all right. And apparently the trinkets were going to see him through. One for every crisis. A pocketful of miracles, from someone who knew the future!
But the next step couldn’t be done alone. He needed help. Somebody else was needed for this part. But who? He pondered, entering the Intercity waiting room. There was only one person he could possibly go to. It was a long chance, but he had to take it. He couldn’t work alone, here on out. If the Rethrick plant was here then Kelly would be too. . .
The street was dark. At the corner a lamppost cast a fitful beam. A few cruisers moved by.
From the apartment building entrance a slim shape came, a young woman in a coat, a purse in her hand. Jennings watched as she passed under the streetlamp. Kelly McVane was going someplace, probably to a party. Smartly dressed, high heels tap-tapping on the pavement, a little coat and hat.
He stepped out behind her. “Kelly.”
She turned quickly, her mouth open. “Oh!”
Jennings took her arm. “Don’t worry. It’s just me. Where are you going, all dressed up?”
“No place.” She blinked. “My golly, you scared me. What is it? What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Can you spare a few minutes? I want to talk to you.”
Kelly nodded. “I guess so.” She looked around. “Where’ll we go?”
“Where’s a place we can talk? I don’t want anyone to overhear us.”
“Can’t we just walk along?”
“No. The Police.”
“The Police?”
“They’re looking for me.”
“For you? But why?”
“Let’s not stand here,” Jennings said grimly. “Where can we go?”
Kelly hesitated. “We can go up to my apartment. No one’s there.”
They went up to the elevator. Kelly unlocked the door, pressing the code key against it. The door swung open and they went inside, the heater and lights coming on automatically at her step. She closed the door and took off her coat.
“I won’t stay long.” Jennings said.
“That’s all right. I’ll fix you a drink.” She went into the kitchen. Jennings sat down on the couch, looking around at the neat little apartment. Presently the girl came back. She sat down beside him and Jennings took his drink. Scotch and water, cold.
“Thanks.”
Kelly smiled. “Not at all.” The two of them sat silently for a time. “Well?” she said at last. “What’s this all about? Why are the Police looking for you?”
“They want to find out about Rethrick Construction. I’m only a pawn in this. They think I know something because I worked two years at Rethrick’s Plant.”
“But you don’t!”
“I can’t prove that.”
Kelly reached out, touching Jennings’ head, just above the ear. “Feel there. That spot.”
Jennings reached up. Above his ear, under the hair, was a tiny hard spot. “What is it?”
“They burned through the skull there. Cut a tiny wedge from the brain. All your memories of the two years. They located them and burned them out. The SP couldn’t possibly make you remember. It’s gone. You don’t have it.”
“By the time they realize that there won’t be much left of me.”
Kelly said nothing.
“You can see the spot I’m in. It would be better for me if I did remember. Then I could tell them and they’d –”
“And destroy Rethrick!”
Jennings shrugged. “Why not? Rethrick means nothing to me. I don’t even know what they’re doing. And why are the Police so interested? From the very start, all the secrecy, cleaning my mind –”
“There’s reason. Good reason.”
“Do you know why?”
“No.” Kelly shook her head. “But I’m sure there’s a reason. If the SP are interested, there’s reason.” She set down her drink, turning toward him. “I hate the Police. We all do, every one of us. They’re after us all the time. I don’t know anything about Rethrick. If I did my life wouldn’t be safe. There’s not much standing between Rethrick and them. A few laws, a handful of laws. Nothing more.”