The Turing Option

The black plastic case inside was about the size of a large wallet. Ben touched the latch and the screen flipped open and glowed whitely, illuminating the keyboard below it.

“A computer,” Brian said admiringly. “And I suppose you are going to tell me this little thing will handle all my notes, spreadsheets, maths and graphics?”

“I am. Holographics too. Fifteen years ago you wouldn’t have imagined how much could be put in a gadget like this. It also contains a phone-net transceiver and a satellite-based location system, so that you can always tell where it is. The entire surface of this black case is an extremely efficient photovoltaic coating for recharging itself — and…watch this!”

Benicoff pulled firmly on the latch-button, which came out with a whining sound on a length of cord.

“You can also charge it by hand with this built-in generator. It will do anything you want. And before we left I made sure to turn on its phone-net cutoff so that no one, not even General Schorcht, could track where you are, or take a look at what you are doing. Why don’t you plug in one of the GRAMs and see what you have there?”

Brian had no problem at all in getting access to the records. Pretty soon he looked up at Ben. “No doubt about it. The earliest stuff there I can recognize, remember it well. It is the LAMA development I worked on with my father. Then, look here, we can jump ahead to some later developmental work. It seems sort of familiar, but I certainly don’t remember it clearly. And all this later stuff, I feel sure that I’ve never seen it before. This last entry, made some months ago. It is only a few days before the raid on the lab!”

“That’s fantastic. Better than we could have hoped for. Now let’s go. Snaresbrook wants you right back in a hospital bed after this day’s excursion. She didn’t think that you would mind. I agreed — particularly if you had this computer in the room with you. And I also want you under guard where I won’t have to worry about you while I turn over everyone in security.”

“This has been the kind of day I could have lived without. I’m actually looking forward to getting back inside the hospital now. Peace and quiet and the chance to read my way through these files.”

“That’s fine by me. After I get the security investigation started I’ll confer with Megalobe, then get back to you. Then we’ll decide what happens next.”

The armored truck slowed and left Freeway 5 at the Imperial Beach exit. Once they had passed through the city they saw that Shore Patrol vehicles were waiting for them at the causeway. They picked up speed then as they were escorted right through the center of Coronado — with all the red lights turning to green at their approach — and through a waiting open gate onto the base once more. Only when he was back in his room did Brian realize how very tired he was. He dropped onto the bed as Dr. Snaresbrook came in.

“Overdid it, I am sure — but there was no way of preventing it.” She slapped a telemeter onto Brian’s wrist and nodded at the readout. “Nothing life-threatening. Get some food and rest. No,” she added when Brian reached for the computer. “Get into bed first. Eat something. Then we’ll think about work.”

Brian must have dozed off over the chocolate pudding. He awoke with a start and saw that it was almost dark. The bedside table was empty and he had a quick burst of fear before he felt the bumps under his pillow and pulled out the computer and the GRAMs. He may have fallen asleep — but not before stowing everything away. The door opened and the nurse looked in.

“You just had to be awake,” she said. “You don’t get a pulse jump like that in your sleep. Can I get you anything?”

“I’m doing fine, thanks. Wait, you can lift the head of the bed, if you don’t mind.”

He read through the files until they brought in his dinner. Ate without noticing what he ate, was barely aware that the tray was removed. Was startled when the night nurse came and pointed to the time.

“Firm orders from Dr. Snaresbrook. Lights out at eleven at the latest — no excuses accepted.”

He didn’t protest, realizing how tired he had become. It was probably foolish to put the computer under his pillow — but it drained away the tension.

Benicoff was there when he woke up in the morning, his face grim and set.

“What’s the news about the shooting?” Brian asked.

“Bad. Both detectives are dead. No sign of the killers. This is one that got away from us.”

“I’m sorry about this, Ben. I know the one detective was a friend of yours.”

“He did his job. Now — back to work. Got any news for me?” he asked. Pretending to be relaxed; tight as a wound-up spring.

“Some good — some troublesome. But don’t get so pale, Ben! I suppose that being in the hospital is a good place to have a coronary, but you’re still better off without one. I’ve been through the files, skipping a lot, but not missing anything important.”

“For my heart’s sake, then — the good news first.”