“By a heat-needle, evidently. We’re having an autopsy performed, of course; we’ll have certain knowledge then.”
“What the hell is a ‘heat-needle’?” Jack Blau asked.
Hawthorne said, “A side-arm left over from the war; they were all called in, but a large number of servicemen kept theirs and we find them being used every now and then. It employs a laser beam and is accurate from quite a distance, assuming there is no intervening structure.”
Coffee was brought; Hawthorne accepted a cup and seated himself. His companion, the vug E. B. Black, declined.
On the vidscreen, the miniature image of their attorney Bert Barth said, “Mr. Hawthorne, whom do you intend to hold? All six persons with defective memories? I’d like to know now because I’m going to have to ring off this line, soon; I have other commitments.”
“It seems probable we’ll hold the six and release the others. Do you find that objectionable, Mr. Barth?” Hawthorne seemed amused.
Mrs. Angst broke in, “They’re not going to hold me, not without a charge.”
“They can hold you—anybody—seventy-two hours at least,” Barth said. “For observation. There are several blanket charges they can bring in. So don’t fight that, Mrs. Angst; after all, a man has been killed. This is a serious matter.”
“Thanks for the help,” Bill Calumine said to Barth, a little bit ironically, it seemed to Pete. “I’d like to ask you one more thing; can you begin work getting the stricture on our meeting for Game-playing removed?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Barth said. “Give me some time. There was a case last year in Chicago. A group there was dissolved under the same statute for several weeks and
naturally they took it to court. As I recall the group won its case; anyhow I’ll look into it.” Barth rang off.
“We’re lucky,” Jean Blau said, “that we’ve got legal representation.” She looked frightened; going over to her husband she stood close by him.
Silvanus Angst said, “I still say we’re better off; Luckman would have wiped us out.” He grinned at the two police. “Maybe I did it. Like you say, I don’t remember. Frankly, if I did it I’m glad.” He did not appear to have any fear of the police. Pete envied him.
“Mr. Garden,” Hawthorne said, “I catch a very interesting thought from you. Early this morning you were warned by someone—I can’t catch by whom—that you were about to commit an act of violence having to do with Luckman. Am I correct?” Rising, he walked over to Pete. “Would you mind thinking as clearly as possible about this?” His tone was informal.
Pete said, “This is a violation of my rights.” He wished that the attorney were still on the vidphone; as soon as Barth had rung off the attitude of the police had stiffened. The group was now at their mercy.
“Not precisely,” Hawthorne said. “We’re governed by many regulations; our pairing off bi-racially is to protect the rights of those we investigate. Actually we’re hampered by such an arrangement.”
Bill Calumine said, “Did both of you agree on shutting down our group? Or was that its idea?” He jerked his head in the direction of E. B. Black.
“I fully concur in the action of banning Pretty Blue Fox,” Hawthorne said. “Despite what your inborn prejudices may – tell you.”
Pete said, “You’re wasting your time baiting him for his association with the vugs.” It was obvious that Hawthorne was used to it by now. He probably encountered it everywhere the two detectives went.
Coming over beside Pete, Joe Schilling said softly, “I’m just not satisfied with the attitude of that Bert Barth. He’s giving in too easily; a good aggressive lawyer would stand up for us more.”
“Perhaps so,” Pete said. It had seemed that way to him, too.
“I have my own attorney back in New Mexico; his name is Laird Sharp. I’ve known him professionally and socially a long time; I’m familiar with his way of operating and it’s in great contrast to Barth’s. And since they’re evidently going to book you I’d like to see you get him instead of this attorney of Calumine’s. I know he could get you right out.”
“The problem,” Pete said, “is that military law still prevails in many situations.” The Concordat between Terrans and Titanians had been a military one. He felt pessimistic. “If the police want to take us in they probably can,” he said to Schilling. Something was terribly wrong. Something with enormous power was in operation; it had acted against six members of the group already, and who knew what its limits were? If it could deplete them of their recent memories—
The vug E. B. Black said, “I agree with you, Mr. Garden. It is unique and disconcerting. Up to now we have not run into anything exactly like it. Individuals, to avoid being scanned, have procured electroshock and managed to obliterate memory-cells. But that does not seem to be the case here.”
“How can you be sure of that?” Stuart Marks said. “Maybe these six people acted together to get electroshock equipment; they could have done it through almost any psychiatrist and psychiatric hospital. The machinery is readily available.” He glowered at Pete hostilely. “Look what you’ve done. Because of you our group has been banned!”
“Because of me?” Pete said.
“Because of the six of you.” Marks looked sullenly around at all of them. “Obviously, one or more of you killed Luck-man. You should have looked into the legal situation before you did it.”
Mrs. Angst said, “We did not kill Luckman.”
“You don’t know that,” Stuart Marks said. “You don’t remember. Right? So don’t try to have it both ways, remembering that you didn’t do it and not remembering that you did.”
Bill Calumine spoke up; his voice was icy. “Marks, damn
it, you have no moral right for acting this way. What do you mean by accusing your fellow group-members? I’m going to insist that we continue to act together and not let ourselves be split this way. If we start to fight among ourselves and begin accusing each other, the police will be able to—” He broke off.
“Be able to what?” Hawthorne said mildly. “Be able to locate the slayer? That’s all we intend to do and you know it.”
Calumine said to the group, “I still insist we should stick together, those with intact memories and those without; we’re still a group, and it’s up to the police to voice the accusations, not us.” To Stuart Marks he said, “If you do that again I’ll ask for a vote to have you dropped from the group.”
“That’s not legal,” Marks said. “And you know it. I still say what I said; one or more of these six people killed Luck-man and I don’t see why we should protect them. It means the obliteration of our group. It’s to our best interest to have the slayer discovered. Then we can resume playing.”
Walt Remington said, “Whoever killed Luckman didn’t do it for himself; he did it for all of us. It may have been the act of an individual, an individual decision, but we all benefited; that person saved our hides, and as far as I’m concerned it’s ethically loathsome for a member of the group to assist the police in apprehending him.” Shaking with anger, he faced Stuart Marks.
“We didn’t like Luckman,” Jean Blau said, “and we were terribly afraid of him but that didn’t create a mandate for someone to go out and kill him, supposedly in the name of the group. I agree with Stuart. We should cooperate with the police in determining who did it.”
“A vote,” Silvanus Angst said.
“Yes,” Carol agreed. “We should decide on policy. Are we to hang together or are we, as individuals, to betray one another? I’ll tell you my vote right now; it’s thoroughly wrong for any of us to—”
The policeman Wade Hawthorne interrupted her. “You have no choice, Mrs. Garden; you must cooperate with us. It’s the law. You can be compelled to,”
“I doubt that,” Bill Calumine said.
Joe Schilling said, “I’m going to contact my own attorney, in New Mexico.” He crossed the room to the vidphone, clicked it on and began to dial.
“Is there any way,” Freya was saying to Hawthorne, “that the lapsed memories can be restored?”
“Not if the brain cells in question have been destroyed,” Hawthorne answered. “And I assume that’s the case. It’s hardly likely that these six members of Pretty Blue Fox have simultaneously suffered hysterical loss of memory.” He smiled briefly.
Pete said to him, “My day was fairly well reconstructed by the Rushmore Effect of my car, and it didn’t put me at any time near a psychiatric hospital where I could have obtained electroshock.”
“You stopped at San Francisco State College,” Hawthorne said. “And their psych department possesses ETS equipment; you could have gotten it there.”