find out what theycan do and what they can't." Then he turned again and strode rapidlytoward the nearest of the buildings.
* * * * *
Seventy-two hours later, Terry Elshawe was in Silver City, talking tohis boss over a long-distance line.
"... And that's the way it lines up, Ole. The CAA won't clear his shipfor take-off, and the Space Force won't either. And if he tries itwithout the O.K. of both of them, he'll be right back in Alcatraz."
"He hasn't violated his parole yet, though?" Winstein's voice camedistantly.
"No." Elshawe cursed the fact that he couldn't get a vision connectionwith New York. "But, the way he's acting, he's likely to. He's furious."
"Why wouldn't he let the Space Force officers look over his ship?"Winstein asked. "I still don't see how that would have hurt him if he'sreally got something."
"It's on the recording I sent you," Elshawe said.
"I haven't played it yet," Winstein said. "Brief me."
"He wouldn't let the Space Force men look at his engine or whatever itis because he doesn't trust them," Elshawe said. "He claims to have thisnew drive, but he doesn't want anyone to go nosing around it. The SpaceForce colonel ... what's his name? ... Manetti, that's it. Manetti askedPorter why, if he had a new invention, he hadn't patented it. Portersaid that he wasn't going to patent it because that would make itavailable to every Tom, Dick, and Harry--his very words--who wanted tobuild it. Porter insists that, since it's impossible to patent thediscovery of a new natural law, he isn't going to give away his geniusfor nothing. He said that Enrico Fermi was the prime example of whathappened when the Government got hold of something like that when theindividual couldn't argue."
"Fermi?" Winstein asked puzzledly. "Wasn't he a physicist or something,back in the Forties?"
"Right. He's the boy who figured out how to make the atomic bombpractical. But the United States Government latched onto it, and it tookhim years to get any compensation. He never did get the money that hewas entitled to.
"Porter says he wants to make sure that the same thing doesn't happen tohim. He wants to prove that he's got something and then let theGovernment pay him what it's worth and give him the recognition hedeserves. He says he has discovered a new natural law and devised amachine that utilizes that law. He isn't going to let go of hisinvention until he gets credit for everything."
There was a long silence from the other end. After a minute, Elshawesaid: "Ole? You there?"
"Oh. Yeah ... sure. Just thinking. Terry, what do you think of thiswhole thing? Does Porter have something?"
"Damned if I know. If I were in New York, I'd say he was a complete nut,but when I talk to him, I'm halfway convinced that he knows what he'stalking about."
There was another long pause. This time, Elshawe waited. Finally, OlerWinstein said: "You think Porter's likely to do something drastic?"
"Looks like it. The CAA has already forbidden him to lift that ship. TheSpace Force flatly told him that he couldn't take off withoutpermission, and they said he wouldn't get permission unless he let themlook over his gizmo ... whatever it is."
"And he refused?"
"Well, he did let Colonel Manetti look it over, but the colonel saidthat, whatever the drive principle was, it wouldn't operate a ship. Hesaid the engines didn't make any sense. What it boils down to is thatthe CAA thinks Porter has rockets in the ship, and the Space Forcedoes, too. So they've both forbidden him to take off."
"_Are_ there any rocket motors in the ship?" Winstein asked.
"Not as far as I can see," Elshawe said. "He's got two bigatomic-powered DC generators aboard--says they have to be DC to avoidelectromagnetic effects. But the drive engines don't make any more senseto me than they do to Colonel Manetti."
Another pause. Then: "O.K., Terry; you stick with it. If Porter tries tobuck the Government, we've got a hell of a story if his gadget works theway he says it does. If it doesn't--which is more likely--then we canstill get a story when they haul him back to the Bastille."
"Check-check. I'll call you if anything happens."
* * * * *
He hung up and stepped out of the phone booth into the lobby of theMurray Hotel. Across the lobby, a glowing sign said _cocktail lounge_ inlower-case script.
He decided that a tall cool one wouldn't hurt him any on a day like thisand ambled over, fumbling in his pockets for pipe, tobacco pouch, andother paraphernalia as he went. He pushed open the door, spotted a stoolat the bar of the dimly-lit room, went over to it and sat down.
He ordered his drink and had no sooner finished than the man to his leftsaid, "Good afternoon, Mr. Elshawe."
The reporter turned his head toward his neighbor. "Oh, hello, Mr.Skinner. I didn't know you'd come to town."
"I came in somewhat earlier. Couple, three hours ago." His voice had thecareful, measured steadiness of a man who has had a little too much todrink and is determined not to show it. That surprised Elshawe a little;Skinner had struck him as a middle-aged accountant or maybe a highschool teacher--the mild kind of man who doesn't drink at all, much lesstake a few too many.
"I'm going to hire a 'copter and fly back," Elshawe said. "You'rewelcome if you want to come along."
Skinner shook his head solemnly. "No. Thank you. I'm going back to LosAngeles this afternoon. I'm just killing time, waiting for the localplane to El Paso."
"Oh? Well, I hope you have a good trip." Elshawe had been under theimpression that Skinner had come to New Mexico solely to see the test ofPorter's ship. He had wondered before how the man fitted into thepicture, and now he was wondering why Skinner was leaving. He decided hemight as well try to find out. "I guess you're disappointed because thetest has been called off," he said casually.
"Called off? Hah. No such thing," Skinner said. "Not by a long shot. NotPorter. He'll take the thing up, and if the Army doesn't shoot him down,the CAA will see to it that he's taken back to prison. But that won'tstop him. Malcom Porter is determined to go down in history as a greatscientist, and nothing is going to stop him if he can help it."
"You think his spaceship will work, then?"
"Work? Sure it'll work. It worked in '79; it'll work now. The way thatdrive is built, it can't help but work. I just don't want to stickaround and watch him get in trouble again, that's all."
Elshawe frowned. All the time that Porter had been in prison, histechnicians had been getting together the stuff to build the so-called"spaceship," but none of them knew how it was put together or how itworked. Only Porter knew that, and he'd put it together after he'd beenreleased on parole.
But if that was so, how come Skinner, who didn't even work for Porter,was so knowledgeable about the drive? Or was that liquor talking?
"Did you help him build it?" the reporter asked smoothly.
"_Help_ him build it? Why, I--" Then Skinner stopped abruptly. "Why,no," he said after a moment. "No. I don't know anything about it,really. I just know that it worked in '79, that's all." He finished hisdrink and got off his stool. "Well, I've got to be going. Nice talkingto you. Hope I see you again sometime."
"Sure. So long, Mr. Skinner." He watched the man leave the bar.
Then he finished his own drink and went back into the lobby and got aphone. Ten minutes later, a friend of his who was a detective on the LosAngeles police force had promised to check into Mr. Samuel Skinner.Elshawe particularly wanted to know what he had been doing in the pastthree years and very especially what he had been doing in the past year.The cop said he'd find out. There was probably nothing to it, Elshawereflected, but a reporter who doesn't follow up accidentally droppedhints isn't much of a reporter.
He came out of the phone booth, fired up his pipe again, and strolledback to the bar for one more drink before he went back to Porter'sranch.
* * * * *
Malcom Porter took one of the darts from the half dozen he held in hisleft hand and hurled it viciously at the target board hung on the farwall of
the room.
_Thunk!_
"Four ring at six o'clock," he said in a tight voice.
_Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!_
The other five darts followed in rapid succession. As he threw each one,Porter snapped out a word. "They ... can't ... stop ... Malcom ...Porter!" He glared at the board "Two bull's-eyes; three fours, and athree.
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