Part 25 (1/2)
”You're sure?” Taber said sarcastically. ”It looks just like the picture.
”Not quite. Anyhow, it ain't Jack.”
The mystified Dr. Entman eyed Taber quizzically. ”What's this all about?”
Taber jerked a thumb in the direction of Blackwell. ”The eleventh android,” he said tersely, and strode out of the laboratory.
Dr. Entman shook his head sadly, certain that Taber had slipped a cog.
Charles Blackwell, a trifle ill from the smell of formaldehyde, stood on the corner, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes a man in a blue suit was standing beside him.
”I would like you to answer some questions for me,” the man said.
Blackwell gulped and blinked. ”Sorry, mister, I'm kind of a stranger here myself.”
”That man you entered this building with--what business did you have with him?”
It should have occurred to Charles Blackwell that this was none of the stranger's business, but it didn't. That thought came later but, at the moment, as he looked into the man's oddly empty eyes, his question seemed entirely justified.
”Well, you see, my brother Jack bothers us, kind of. He gets manic-depressive spells.”
”What did that have to do with Brent Taber?”
”We thought maybe my brother broke his leg and then dropped dead or--or something. Anyhow, I got this here court order--they gave it to me--and I showed it to Taber--”
”Who are _they_?”
Blackwell felt strangely excited. He felt as though this man were a friend, although he didn't know quite why.
”Well, you see I've been around a long time. I run errands and things for Senator Crane. I'm confidential to him, you understand, because I never talk. I always keep my mouth shut. So he trusts me and he gave me this here court order--”
”Who is Senator Crane?”
”You don't know Senator Crane? You new in this country maybe?”
”He is a government official?”
”He's elected to office. He's a United States Senator. Anyhow, Brent Taber showed me this here guy all cut up and I said it wasn't Jack and--well, that was that.”
”What room did Brent Taber take you to?”
”The d.a.m.n place smelled like a skunk factory.”
”What room number?”
”Ten twenty-six--I think. Yeah, ten twenty-six it was, and I'm telling you, if you go in there, for Christ sake wear a gas mask. I d.a.m.n near--”