Part 25 (1/2)
”That's why I'm calling you.”
”How?”
”Right now I am in the transfer control room. There is another version of Gorfmann here, too, but he is unconscious. He has gone through two transfers in too short a time, and I think the stress has deranged him completely-exactly what we have been worried about. There's no one else here at the moment, but I'm going to move him into the motor room in case anyone comes back. As soon as the one that's with you leaves the office, get over here as fast as you can and give me a hand to move him somewhere safer.
Then we can talk about what to do.”
”I shall be most interested to meet you.”
The two Osternaks used a dolly from the materials store to cart the still lifeless Gorfmann across the compound and into the Keep, where they took him to Professor Prandtl's office, since Prandtl was away for a week, and laid him out on the sofa by the window. They loosened his tie and made him comfortable with blankets and a pillow borrowed from the medical room on the floor below. As an afterthought, Osternak Two removed the car keys from Gorfmann's pocket. ”I think as a precaution we'll hang on to these,” he said. ”It wouldn't do to let him go driving if he got out.” Then they closed the door and went across the corridor to their own office to discuss what to do next.
The second Osternak-the one who had come back through the machine with Gorfmann-had a better idea of what was going on and a.s.sumed the initiative, taking the chair behind the desk. The other sat down opposite. ”Fortunately, since we already share most of our thoughts, we don't have to waste a lot of time talking,” Osternak Two said. In other words, Osternak One was already aware of the logical uncertainties surrounding this kind of situation. He didn't know if the events already established on a timeline could be altered; whether the situation involved parallel universes, branching universes, or heavens alone knew what; or what the complexities would be of skipping from one line to another. On the other hand, everything might be predetermined. That was precisely what the experiments currently in progress were designed to find out. Also, double pa.s.ses through the process within too short a span of time caused disorientation of the central nervous system, and what the effects might be on somebody in Gorfmann's already unbalanced condition was anybody's guess.
”Agreed,” Osternak One said. Which took care of the hours they could have spent debating things like that.
”I suggest that we play it safe until we're out of this wretched loop that Gorfmann has initiated,”
Osternak Two said. ”Having two maniacs around is more than I know how to handle. So I say, let's play everything as it happened until the time that Gorfmann transferred back the first time to commit the murder. After that version of him goes back, there will only be one of him left, which will be a much simpler situation. We can worry about what to do next at that point.”
”What time was that-when he went back?” Osternak One asked.
”I don't know. I'm not even sure when he arrived. But since there have been people working in the transfer dome all day, I suspect he's already here somewhere. My guess is that he arrived last night or early this morning, and is holed up somewhere until the time he has picked.”
Osternak One nodded slowly. ”Ah, I see . . . which will no doubt coincide with the time his other self is publicly visible at the banquet in Innsbruck.”
”Exactly,” Osternak Two said.
”Hmm.” Osternak rubbed his chin. ”Which one of us is going to get murdered?” he asked uncomfortably.
”Well, I've already been who you are right now, so it will have to be you.”
”Oh.” Osternak One didn't sound overthrilled. Then his expression changed as the implication struck him. ”Wait a minute, Osbert. If you were me, and you're not dead, then you can't have been killed.”
”Yes, I know you feel slightly stupid for having taken so long to see it, for I felt the same thing myself at this moment. So don't worry about it. The next question is, how are you going to stop him doing it?”
”You could tell me, of course.”
”Which is what I said, too, when I was you, of course. But I also know that you realized while you were saying it that it wouldn't do. It has to be your idea, to keep things the way they happened. We can experiment later with what happens when you deliberately change things-but let's get out of this situation first. Which I remember is what you are thinking yourself at this moment, anyway.”
”Well, if he is hiding in the building somewhere, we could search the place and . . . No, that wouldn't work, would it? That can't have happened with you.”
”You're catching on.”
”Why? Did you start to say the same thing?”
”Yes.”
”But I a.s.sume I must come up with something, since you evidently did.”
”I hope so. If not, G.o.d alone knows what happens.”
Osternak One ran his fingers through his halo of white hair. ”Well, the only think I can think of is that we-I, that is, must fake it. Where do I get shot? Nothing gruesome, I hope.”
”Twice, in the chest.”
”Whose gun does he use?”
”Yours, from the desk. He makes it look as if an intruder was disturbed.”
Osternak One thought for a moment, and then his expression lightened. ”Ah, yes, well, in that case I could reload it with blanks. The sticky red solvent they use in the plating shop should make a pa.s.sable blood subst.i.tute. . . . Er, does this happen in good light?”
Osternak Two beamed and nodded approvingly. ”No, right here in the office. He lures you up to Hoetzer's lab for a few minutes with a bogus phone call, and when you get back he has fixed the lights.
Complete darkness, apart from the light from the corridor.”
”So a handful of the stuff carried in and smacked to the chest when he fires? . . .”
”Splendid, splendid!” Osternak Two said. He had a painful bruise on his hip from where he had fallen over the chair, but saw no need to say anything about that. ”Now, you have to stay here to take the phone call, which will come at about eight-thirty. Before then, I will have left a jar of red solvent from the plating shop on the table by the graphics printer in Hoetzer's office-you'll find out why when Gorfmann phones you. Also, I intend to install a hidden camera in the transfer-chamber room, running off a timer, to record when Gorfmann makes his first transfer back. Once that has occurred, we shall be out of the loop.”
”He could have come back from several days ahead,” Osternak One pointed out. ”But of course, you are already aware of that.”
”Yes. And that's why I'm going to set up a camera and not risk dying of cramp and cold trying to maintain a vigil there in person.”
They stood up and regarded each other curiously. Finally Osternak One said, ”Well, time is getting on. I have my preparations to make, and so do you. Is there anything useful I can do when I've cleaned up after being shot?”
”I'd just keep an eye on our sleeping friend across there,” Osternak Two said, nodding his head in the direction of the door.
”Yes, well, I don't know if we're supposed to meet again, but in case not . . .” Osternak One held out a hand. The other shook it. ”It's been . . . an interesting encounter.” Osternak Two came around the desk, and walked toward the door. ”One thing,” Osternak One said. Osternak Two turned. ”I don't know when I'm supposed to go back to become you.”
”Oh, I think that will take care of itself,” Osternak Two a.s.sured him. He turned away again and left through the door.
Outside in the corridor, Osternak Two looked briefly into Professor Prandtl's office to check on Gorfmann. The body was still out cold, but breathing more regularly now. Satisfied that there was no immediate call for medical help, he left the Keep through the rear entrance and went into the instrumentation lab to collect the things he needed to set up the camera. He carried the bits and pieces to the control room and found a suitable hiding place that commanded a good view of the transfer room and the door into the chamber. The camera and film were designed for extended-duration scientific work and would silently capture a frame every five seconds for twenty-four hours. There would be no trouble in coming back to change the magazine once a day if need be. He worked slowly and meticulously, his mind wandering over the peculiarities and apparent contradictions of the situation. How could the same object be physically present twice at the same time? What happened when somebody deliberately undid what had been done? Were memory patterns somehow altered to correlate with the changed circ.u.mstances? There were questions that he didn't have the beginnings of answers to yet. Time drifted on, and he became completely preoccupied with his thoughts. . . . And then his attention focused with the sudden realization that it was approaching eight-thirty . . . and his heart missed a beat. Oh G.o.d, the solvent!
He dropped what he was doing and hastened out into the compound and over to the plating shop.
There, he scooped a glob of the red goo from its container into an empty can, stuffed the can in a plastic bag, and hurried over to the Keep and in through the rear door. Just as he was about to ascend the rear stairs, he heard a voice coming from the pa.s.sage leading through to the front lobby. Fearful that it was the other Osternak looking for him after failing to find the solvent-which would have meant that he'd missed his cue and ruined everything-he changed course and charged into the pa.s.sage. But as he came closer to the lobby he recognized the voice as Gorfmann's and ducked hastily into a darkened doorway.
Gorfmann was speaking under the canopy of the pay phone in the alcove at the end of the pa.s.sage.
Gorfmann must have heard him come in, Osternak was certain. Yes, he could see Gorfmann's shadow form leaning out of the alcove to peer along the pa.s.sageway toward the back door. Osternak froze in the doorway, not daring to move a muscle. And then, to his relief, Gorfmann moved back into the alcove again, and his voice resumed, ”I'm sorry, but it is important. . . . I wish to speak to somebody there called Gorfmann. A Dr. Rudi Gorfmann.” Osternak frowned to himself in the darkness. He had guessed that Gorfmann must have made his call from somewhere nearby. The time was right, but the call wasn't.
Why was Gorfmann calling himself? Was there a conspiracy being enacted between the two Gorfmanns, which he had never suspected? A sinking feeling of impending disaster came over him. From the alcove, Gorfmann's voice continued, ”Just put me through, please . . . Thank you . . . Just checking.” Gorfmann sounded as if he was trying not to laugh. Then, ”It doesn't matter. Let's just say that, as I know you'll be pleased to learn, you're even cleverer than you think.” There was a click as Gorfmann hung up.