Stranger in a Strange Land

Having found himself coerced into action by expectation of action against him it annoyed Harshaw that nothing happened. Damn it, were Federation cops so stupid that they couldn't track an unsophisticated girl dragging an unconscious man across the countryside? Or had they been on her heels? — and now were keeping a stake-out on his place? The thought was infuriating; the notion that the government might be spying on his home, his castle, was as repulsive as having his mail opened.

They might be doing that, too! Government! Three-fourths parasitic and the rest stupid fumbling — oh, Harshaw conceded that man, a social animal, could not avoid government, any more than an individual could escape bondage to his bowels. But simply because an evil was inescapable was no reason to term it «good.» He wished that government would wander off and get lost!

It was possible, even probable, that the administration knew where the Man from Mars was and chose to leave it that way.

If so, how long would it go on? And how long could he keep his «bomb» armed and ready?

And where the devil was that young idiot Ben Caxton?

Jill Boardman forced him out of his spiritual thumb-twiddling. «Jubal?»

«Eh? Oh, it's you, bright eyes. Sorry, I was preoccupied. Sit down. Have a drink?»

«Uh, no, thank you. Jubal, I'm worried.»

«Normal. That was a pretty swan dive. Let's see another like it.»

Jill bit her lip and looked about twelve years old. «Jubal! Please listen! I'm terribly worried.»

He sighed. «In that case, dry yourself off. The breeze is chilly.»

«I'm warm enough. Uh, Jubal? Would it be all right if I left Mike here?»

Harshaw blinked. «Certainly. The girls will look out for him, he's no trouble. You're leaving?»

She didn't meet his eye. «Yes.»

«Mmm … you're welcome here. But you're welcome to leave, if you wish.»

«Huh? But, Jubal — I don't want to!»

«Then don't.»

«But I must!»

«Play that back. I didn't scan it.»

«Don't you see, Jubal? I like it here — you've been wonderful to us! But I can't stay. Not with Ben missing. I've got to look for him.»

Harshaw said one earthy word, then added, «How do you plan to look for him?»

She frowned. «I don't know. But I can't lie around, loafing and swimming — with Ben missing.»

«Gillian, Ben is a big boy. You're not his mother — nor his wife. You haven't any call to go looking for him. Have you?»

Jill twisted one toe in the grass. «No,» she admitted. «I haven't any claim on Ben. I just know … that if I were missing … Ben would look — until he found me. So I've got to look for him!»

Jubal breathed malediction against all gods involved in the follies of the human race, then said, «All right, let's get some logic into it. Do you plan to hire detectives?»

She looked unhappy. «I suppose that's the way to do it. Uh, I've never hired a detective. Are they expensive?»

«Quite.»

Jill gulped. «Would they let me pay, uh, in monthly in stallments?»

«Cash at the stairs is their policy. Quit looking grim, child; I brought that up to dispose of it. I've already hired the best in the business to try to find Ben — there is no need to hock your future to hire second best.»

«You didn't tell me!»

«No need to.»

«But — Jubal, what did they find out?»

«Nothing,» he admitted, «so there was no need to put you in the dumps by telling you.» Jubal scowled. «I had thought you were unnecessarily nervy about Ben — I figured the same as his assistant, that fellow Kilgallen, that Ben had gone yiping off on some trail and would check in when he had the story.» He sighed. «Now I don't think so. That knothead Kilgallen — he does have a message on file telling him that Ben would be away; my man saw it and sneaked a photograph and checked. The message was sent.»

Jill looked puzzled. «Why didn't Ben send me one, too? It isn't like him — Ben's very thoughtful.»

Jubal repressed a groan. «Use your head, Gillian. Just because a package says “Cigarettes” does not prove it contains cigarettes. You got here Friday; the code groups on that statprint show it was filed from Philadelphia — Paoli Station Landing Flat — at ten thirty the morning before — 10:30 A.M. Thursday. It was transmitted and received at once; Ben's office has its own statprinter. All right,you tell me why Ben sent a printed message to his own office — during working hours — instead of telephoning?»

«Why, I don't think he would. At least I wouldn't. The telephone is the normal — »

«You aren't Ben. I can think of a dozen reasons for a man in Ben's business. To avoid garbles. To insure a record in the files of I.T.&T. for legal purposes. To send a delayed message. Lot of reasons. Kilgallen saw nothing odd — and the fact that Ben goes to the expense of a statprinter in his office shows that Ben uses it.

«However,» Jubal went on, «that message placed Ben at Paoli Flat at ten thirty-four on Thursday. Jill, it was not sent from there.»

«But — »