The Collection (58 page)
"
Here
'
s
a list of his friends, Perry." Caquer handed Peters a paper. "Look it
over, will you, and see if you can make any additions to it. Or any
suggestions."
The lanky inventor studied the
list, and then passed it back.
"That includes them all, I
guess," he told Caquer.
"
Couple on there I didn
'
t
know he knew well enough to rate listing. And you have his best customers down,
too; the ones that bought heavily from him."
Lieutenant Caquer put the list
back in his pocket.
"What are you working on
now?" he asked Peters.
"
Something I'm
stuck on, I
'
m afraid," the inventor said. "I needed Deem's
help-or at least the use of his lathe, to go ahead with this." He picked
up from the bench a pair of the most peculiar-looking goggles Rod Caquer had
ever seen. The lenses were shaped like arcs of circles instead of full circles,
and they fastened in a band of resilient plastic obviously designed to fit
close to the face above and below the lenses. At the top center, where it would
be against the forehead of the goggles' wearer, was a small cylindrical box an
inch and a half in dismeter.
"What on earth are they
for?" Caquer asked.
"
For use in
radite mines. The emanations from that stuff, while it
'
s in the raw
state, destroys immediately any transparent substance yet made or discovered.
Even quartz. And it isn
'
t good on naked eyes either. The miners have
to work blindfolded, as it were, and by their sense of touch.
"
Rod Caquer looked at the goggles
curiously.
"But how is the funny shape
of these lenses going to keep the emanations from hurting them, Perry?" he
asked.
"That part up on top is a
tiny motor. It operates a couple of specially-treated wipers across the lenses.
For all the world like an old-fashioned windshield wiper, and that's why the
lenses are shaped like the wiper-arm arcs."
"
Oh,
"
said Caquer.
"
You mean the wipers are absorbent and hold some
kind of liquid that protects the glass?"
"Yes, except that it
'
s
quartz instead of glass. And it
'
s protected only a minute fraction
of a second. Those wipers go like the devil-so fast you can't see them when
you're wearing the goggles. The arms are half as big as the arcs, and the
wearer can see out of only a fraction of the lens at a time. But he can see,
dimly, and that
'
s a thousand per cent improvement in radite mining.
"
"Fine, Perry," said
Caquer. "And they can get around the dimness by having ultra-brilliant
lighting. Have you tried these out?"
"
Yes, and they
work. Trouble's in the rods; friction heats them and they expand and jam after
it
'
s run a minute, or thereabouts. I have to turn them down on
Deem's lathe-or one like it. Think you could arrange for me to use it? Just for
a day or so?"
"
I don
'
t
sec why not,
"
Caquer told him.
"
I
'
ll
talk to whomever the Regent appoints executor, and fix it up. And later
you can probably buy the lathe from his heir. Or does the nephew go in for such
things?
"
Perry Peters shook his head.
"Hope, he wouldn
'
t know a lathe from a drill-press. Be swell of
you, Rod, if you can arrange for me to use it."
Caquer had turned to go, when
Perry Peters stopped him.
"
Wait a
minute," Peters said and then paused and looked uncomfortable.
"
I guess I was
holding out on you, Rod,
"
the inventor said at last.
"
I
do know one thing about Willem that might possibly have something to do with
his death, although I don't see how, myself. I wouldn
'
t tell it on
him, except that he
'
s dead, and so it won
'
t get him in
trouble.
"
"
What was it,
Perry?
"
"
Illicit
political books. He had a little business on the side selling them. Books on
the index-you know just what I mean.
"
Caquer whistled softly. "I
didn't know they were made any more. After the council put such a heavy penalty
on them-whew!
"
"People are still human,
Rod. They still want to know the things they shouldn't know-just to find out
why they shouldn't, if for no other reason."
"Graydex or Blackdex books,
Perry?"
Now the inventor looked puzzled.
"I don't get it. What's the
difference?"
"
Books on the
official index," Caquer explained, "are divided into two groups. The
really dangerous ones are in the Blackdex. There
'
s a severe penalty
for owning one, and a death penalty for writing or printing one. The mildly
dangerous ones are in the Graydex, as they call it."
"
I wouldn
'
t
know which Willem peddled. Well, off the record, I read a couple Willem lent me
once, and I thought they were pretty dull stuff. Unorthodox political
theories."
"
That would be
Graydex." Lieutenant Caquer looked relieved. "Theoretical stuff is
all Graydex. The Blackdex books are the ones with dangerous practical information.
"
"Such as?" The
inventor was staring intently at Caquer.
"
Instructions
how to make outlawed things,
"
explained Caquer.
"
Like
Lethite, for instance. Lethite is a poison gas that's tremendously dangerous. A
few pounds of it could wipe out a city, so the council outlawed its manufacture,
and any book telling people how to make it for themselves would go on the
Blackdex. Some nitwit might get hold of a book like that and wipe out his whole
home town."
"
But why would
anyone?"
"
He might he
warped mentally, and have a grudge," explained Caquer.
"
Or
he might want to use it on a lesser scale for criminal reasons. Or-by Earth, he
might be the head of a government with designs on neighboring states.
Knowledge of a thing like that might upset the peace of the Solar System."
Perry Peters nodded
thoughtfully. "I get your point," he said.
"
Well, I
still don't see what it could have to do with the murder, but I thought I'd
tell you about Willem
'
s sideline. You probably want to check over
his stock before whoever takes over the shop reopens."
"We shall,
"
said Caquer. "Thanks a lot, Perry. If you don
'
t mind, I
'
ll
use your phone to get that search started right away. If there are any Blackdex
books there, we'll take care of them all right.
'
When he got his secretary on the
screen, she looked both frightened and relieved at seeing him.
"Mr. Caquer," she
said, "I've been trying to reach you. Something awful
'
s
happened. Another death.
"
"Murder again?" gasped
Caquer.
"Nobody knows what it
was," said the secretary. "A dozen people saw him jump out of a
window only twenty feet up. And in this gravity that couldn
'
t have
killed him, but he was dead when they got there. And four of them that saw him
knew him. It was-"
"Well, for Earth's sake,
who?"
"I don't-Lieutenant Caquer,
they said, all four of them, that it was Willem Deem!"
*
* *
With a nightmarish feeling of
unreality Lieutenant Roc Caquer peered down over the shoulder of the Medico
.
in-Chief at the body that already lay on the stretcher of the utility men, who
stood by impatiently.
"You better hurry, Doc,
"
one of them said.
"
He won
'
last much longer and it
take us five minutes to get there.
'
Dr. Skidder nodded impatiently
without looking up and went on with his examination. "Not a mark, Rod,' he
said. "Not a sign of poison. Not a sign of anything He
'
s just
dead.
"
"The fall couldn't have
caused it?" said Caquer.
"There isn
'
t even
a bruise from the fall. Only verdict I can give is heart failure. Okay, boys,
you can take him away.
"
"You through too,
Lieutenant?
"
"I'm through,
"
said Caquer. "Go ahead. Skidder, which of them was Willem Deem?
"
The medico's eyes followed the
white-sheeted burden of the utility men as they carried it toward the truck,
and he shrugged helplessly.
"Lieutenant, I guess that's
your pigeon," he said. "All I can do is certify to cause of
death."
"It just doesn't make
sense," Caquer wailed. "Sector Three City isn't so big that he could
have had a double living here without people knowing about it. But one of them
had to be a double. Off the record, which looked to you like the
original?"
Dr. Skidder shook his head
grimly.
"Willem Deem had a
peculiarly shaped wart on his nose," he said. "So did both of
his
corpses,
Rod. And neither one was artificial, or make-up. I'll stake my professional
reputation on that. But come on back to the office with me, and I'll tell you
which one of them is the real Willem Deem."
"Huh? How?"
"His thumbprint's on file
at the tax department, like everybody's is. And it's part of routine to
fingerprint a corpse on Callisto, because it has to be destroyed so
quickly."
"You have thumbprints of
both corpses?" inquired Caquer.
"Of course. Took them
before you reached the scene, both times. I have the one for Willem-I mean the
other corpse-back in my office. Tell you what-you pick up the print on file at
the tax office and meet me there.
"
Caquer sighed with relief as he
agreed. At least one point in the case would be cleared up-which corpse was
which.
And in that comparatively
blissful state of mind he remained until half an hour later when he and Dr.
Skidder compared the time prints-the one Rod Caquer had secured from the tax
office, and one from each of the corpses.
They were identical, all three
of them.
"Urn," said Caquer.
"
You
'
re
sure you didn't get mixed up on those prints, Dr. Skidder.
"How could I? I took only
one copy from each body, Rod. If I had shuffled them just now while we were
looking at them, the result would be the same. All three prints are
alike."
"But they can't be."
Skidder shrugged.
"I think we should lay this
before the Regent, direct," he said.
"
I'll call him and
arrange an audience. Okay?
"
Half an hour later, he was
giving the whole story to Regent Barr Maxon, with Dr. Skidder corroborating the
main points. The expression on Regent Maxon
'
s face made Lieutenant
Rod Caquer glad, very glad, that he had that corroboration.
"You agree," Maxon
asked, "that this should be taken up with the Sector Coordinator, and that
a special investigator should be sent here to take over?
"
A bit reluctantly, Caquer
nodded. "I hate to admit that I'm incompetent, Regent, or that I seem to
be," Caquer said. "But this isn't an ordinary crime. Whatever goes
on, it's way over my head. And there may be something even more sinister than
murder behind it."
"You
'
re right,
Lieutenant. I'll see that a qualified man leaves headquarters today and he'll
get in touch with you in the morning."
"
Regent,"
Caquer asked, "has any machine or process ever been invented that
will-uh-duplicate a human body, with or without the mind being carried
over?"
Maxon seemed puzzled by the
question.
"You think Deem might have
been playing around with something that bit him. No, to my knowledge a
discovery like that has never been approached. Nobody has ever duplicated,
except by constructive imitation, even an inanimate object. You haven
'
t
heard of such a thing, have you, Skidder?
"
"No," said the Medical
Examiner. "I don't think even your friend Perry Peters could do that, Rod.
"
From the Regent Maxon
'
s
office, Caquer went on Deem's shop. Brager was in charge there, and Bragcr
helped him search the place thoroughly. It was a long and laborious task, because
each book and reel had to be examined minutely.
The printers of illicit books,
Caquer knew, were clever at disguising their product. Usually, forbidden books
bore the cover and title page, often even the opening chapters, of some popular
work of fiction, and the projection reels were similarly disguised.
Jupiter-lighted darkness was
falling outside when they finished, but Rod Caquer knew they had done a thorough
job. There wasn
'
t an indexed book anywhere in the shop, and every
reel had been run off on a projector.
Other men, at Rod Caquer's
orders, had been searching Deem's apartment with equal thoroughness. He phoned
there, and got a report, completely negative.
"Not so much as a Venusian
pamphlet," said the man in charge at the apartment, with what Caquer
thought was a touch of regret in his voice.
"Did you come across a
lathe, a small one for delicate work?
"
Rod asked.
"
Um-no, we
didn't see anything like that. One room's turned into a workshop, but there
'
s
no lathe in it. Is it important?
"