Rebel in Time

While he was waiting, Troy went back downstairs and looked into the desk; a picklock opened it quickly. There was some correspondence, the usual collection of bills and receipts, cancelled cheques and cheque-book stubs. He made no attempt to examine the contents in detail, but photographed it instead. It was a quick job and he had put everything in order and locked the desk again when the well-worn truck pulled up less than forty-five minutes later. The sign on the side said ANDY THE PLUMBER—24 HOUR EMERGENCY SERVICE. Andy was dressed in work-clothes and carried a large and battered toolbox. He locked the truck and strolled, whistling, up the drive. Troy opened the door, just before he pressed the bell, and let him in.

'I'm Andy, just like the truck says. I hear you got a problem with some financial plumbing.' He took the toothpick from his mouth and carefully put it into his pocket. 'Where's it at?'

'Upstairs. I'll show you.'

Andy knew his job well. The battered toolbox was pristine inside, with tools and equipment set into shaped niches in the velvet-lined trays. He knelt and admired the safe.

'Nice,' he said, rubbing his hands together. 'Very secure. Fireproof, good for a couple of thousand degrees for a couple of hours. Impossible to crack.'

'Then you can't open it?'

'Did I say that?' He took a metal box with a wire antenna from its niche and switched it on. 'I mean your run-of-the-mill safecracker couldn't do a thing with it. He would just walk away. I can open anything. But let's first see if there are any electronics or alarms wired to it. No, it's clean. Now let's listen to it sing. No tumblers, so you can't hear them fall. But there are ways.'

Troy didn't ask what they were. It wasn't his business. Andy was using supersonics, something, to probe the guts of the safe. A number of small battery powered devices were attached to the knob and the front plate. The largest of the gadgets had solid state circuitry and a digital read-out. It took Andy less than fifteen minutes to work his electronic magic. Then he whistled as he detached all of his machines and put them away.

'Aren't you going to open it?' Troy asked. Andy shook his head no.

'Not my job. I'm a technician, not a lawbreaker.' One of his compact instruments looked like a printing calculator. Andy tapped out a series of instructions; and it buzzed and ejected a slip of paper. He handed it to Troy. The paper had a short list of letters and numbers printed on it.

'R means right,' Andy said. 'And as you might have guessed L is left. Turn the knob a couple of times counterclockwise to clear it before you start, then just set the numbers in the order the way it reads. The door is spring loaded, it'll just pop open at the last number. After you close it again give it a couple of more spins, then set it to fifty-six which is what it was at when I came in. Someone might remember that number. Have a good day now.'

Troy watched him drive away, then went back to the bedroom. Andy's electronics had done their job well. When Troy had set the last number he felt the safe door push up against his hand. It opened about an inch, leaving more than enough room for him to get his fingers under the edge to open it all the way. He looked inside and saw that the safe contained only one thing.

Neatly stacked ingots of gold, gold sheets and gold wire.

It was very attractive indeed. The more he worked with gold the more he admired it. There really was nothing else like it in the world. Reaching down into the safe he lifted off the top ingot and weighed it in the palm of his hand. It was solid gold all right. Nothing else, not even lead, had that massive feel to it, the dense weight-to-size ratio. He started to put it back in its resting place — then stopped, his eyes narrowed in thought. Something here was just not right.

Troy placed the gold ingot onto the carpet, then bent over the safe, making a rough count of the rest of the ingots. He could not see them all, but he could make an estimate. A moment's work on the calculator verified his suspicion. But he had to be sure.

He opened his notebook beside the safe, then lay flat on his stomach. He wasn't much of an artist, but a rough sketch would be good enough. With careful strokes he drew the pile of ingots, then outlined the positions of the wire and sheets of gold. When this was done to his satisfaction he laid aside the notebook and carefully, piece by piece, removed the gold from the safe, piling it onto his closed attaché case. When almost a third of the gold had been stacked on the case he stood and went into the bathroom to get the spring scale he had noticed there earlier. It would be accurate enough for a rough count.