Ability Quotient

by Mack Reynolds

  Bert’s mind was working rapidly. The implication of her coming out of what was obviously a bedroom was clear.

  He said, “Darling, this is Frank Harmon, of Security. He has a few questions to ask. For instance, where was I at two o’clock last Thursday? Remember, that was the day those three students were shot in that mysterious affair out in the suburbs.”

  She said, “Why, darling, you were right here with me, all afternoon.”

  Frank Harmon was obviously set back.

  Bert said to him, “Well, aren’t you going to call the general?”

  Harmon said, “Bugs Paul is the one who gave the orders to ship me off to Hawaii. I’m taking you in, Caine. A little truth serum down at headquarters and we’ll get to the bottom of this before the general even hears about it.”

  From the doorway behind him a new voice said, “So they still call him Bugs. I’ll have to let him know about that.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Frank Harmon shot a startled look over his shoulder. Jim Hawkins stood there, a benign look on his face, a laser pistol in hand, nonchalantly trained on Harmon.

  He said, “I’ve been out here in the hall, taking most of this in. You sure are an eager beaver, Harmon. Uh, Jim Hawkins is the handle.”

  Harmon said inanely, “You wouldn’t dare shoot. I’m taking you both in.”

  Jim chuckled softly. “Old buddy, you’ve been accusing Bert and me of bumping off three men, kind of putting the snatch on an assistant professor and all sorts of fun and games. Now if we’d really swing all that, do you think we’d hesitate knocking off one more?”

  Harmon’s face registered indecision.

  Jim said to Bert Alshuler in mock complaint, “See how it is? Everybody thinks I’m just an easygoing slob. Now if you’d give him his marching orders, Killer, he’d be out of here in a hurry.”

  Harmon said wanly, “Your own reputation is as notorious as the major’s, Captain Hawkins.” He tossed Bert’s gun to the couch. “This isn’t the end, you know.” I le returned his own gun to a hip holster.

  Jim said, his voice friendly, “When you contact the general, remember me to him. Used to make dates for him, locate decent booze for him, get him home when it got a little drunk out; shucks, I was the most valuable member of his staff there in Siam.”

  Frank Harmon growled something inarticulately and brushed by the lanky Hawkins on his way out.

  When he was gone, Bert snapped, “How much of that did you hear?”

  “Practically all of it. I came in the front door, just as you two were entering this room. I stood out in the hall and listened.” He leered at Jill. “I even heard the little bit that suggested you two were shacked up here.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly, Jim,” she said. “It obviously made a perfect alibi.”

  Bert went over to the bar for drinks. “How about a cognac, all around?” he said. “We could use one. Where’ve you been, Jim?”

  “Make mine a double,” Jim said, returning his gun to its holster. “Running errands for my old buddy.”

  Jill sank into a chair. “Make mine a double too,” she said wearily. “This is beginning to pile up on me. I don’t have the background you two do. I get frightened.”

  Jim chuckled, “Nobody has the background we two do, Sweetie Pie. This would have been considered a restful weekend in the old days.”

  Bert said, “Easy, Jim. The poor kid’s about had it” He brought the three drinks and handed the others theirs.

  He said to Jim, “You’d better get the general on the phone and let him know what happened. Tell him to get this man off our backs soonest. Harmon’s not stupid, and he’s sore. If he’s on this another twenty-four hours he’ll crack something and even generals can’t cover over three killings, particularly when the three are students, rather than mugs.”

  Jim started for the phone screen, saying over his shoulder, “What the devil happened to Kneedler? He walked out of here all right.”

  Bert knocked back half of his brandy. “He’s probably gone to ground. Hiding out with some of his group. He’s got his wind up. Too much shooting going on. He’s probably okay.”

  While Jim Hawkins got through to General Paul, Bert and Jill sat silently nursing their drinks.

  Bert said finally, “Come up with anything today?”

  “Not too much, but I’m beginning to get an idea of the magnitude of some of these breakthroughs. They must absolutely scare the men who are making them. You?”

  “I’m getting the same feeling. Did you come up against that bit by Arthur C. Clarke about the education machine?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll tell you about it later.”

  Jim came back, grinning. “Old Bugs is hopping. He says he’ll clobber poor Harmon.”

  Bert said, “Did you find out anything about Katz and the general?”

  “Some. Not much. With phone screens people don’t write much in the way of letters any more, and with the data banks always available they don’t even take much in the way of notes. However…”

  “You mean you actually got into Katz’ penthouse?”

  Jim grinned at him. “That wasn’t much of a problem.”

  “Possibly not for you, but it sure as hell would have been for me. How did you get up that restricted elevator and past the door identity screens?”

  “I didn’t,” Jim Hawkins grinned. “Remember Fred Durkin who was with the helio-jets? Well, he’s got a job crop dusting not far from here. Has a personal mini-helio of his own, a two-seater. At any rate, he sat me down, real quiet-like, right on the fancy landscaping job Katz did on his roof.”

  Bert appropriated a term out of his friend’s vocabulary. “Holy smokes,” he said. “And nobody spotted you?”

  “It was about two in the morning. But that wasn’t it. You know something, Bert? Katz doesn’t live there. Or, at least, not much. The place is deserted.”

  Both Jill and Bert Alshuler frowned at him, not understanding.

  Jim said, “So I took my time prowling the joint. You know all those books he had there in his study? They were in at least twenty languages. Not just the usual European ones, but such off-beats as Tagalog, Chinese and Arabic, and those books were well used. You know something, Bert? I’ve got a suspicion that Professor Katz already has all this education that you’re still working on.”

  Bert Alshuler grunted surprise at that. “What else did you find?”

  “Only one thing that makes any difference to us—if it does. A list of names with Ability Quotient ratings.” There was a smirk on his face. “You were pretty well down the list, Bert. Even Jill, here, had a higher rating than yours.” He brought a paper from an inner pocket. “There were several copies. I brought the top sheet of one of them. The full list was pretty long.”

  Bert took the list and scowled down at it His name was about sixteenth from the top.

  He said, “Did you get anything about the general at all?”

  “Not much. I got into his house. He has a place in Lincoln Heights, Greater Washington. I thought he’d be in bed, but he came in with some broad just as I was beginning to look around. I had to hide in a closet and stayed there for something like four hours. Believe me, it was a chore.”

  “Save the gory details,” Jill murmured.

  Bert said, “Well?”

  “They talked some, of course. He was a few sheets in the wind. But you can’t expect him to go over his complete plans, just because I’m so handily located in the closet that I can hear what he said. However, I got the impression that old Bugs and Katz aren’t as buddy-buddy as you and I are, old buddy.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I got the feeling that they hang out together because they need each other. Paul has the in with the government and Katz needs it, and Katz has these techniques he’s using on you two, and Paul wants them. But anyway, I got the feeling that old Bugs is about to act, about to lower the boom on the professor.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t kn
ow. Just some of the things he said to the chick. She must be one of his secretaries, or something. Maybe his mistress. It sure as the devil wasn’t his wife.”

  Jill looked at Bert, “What in the name of heavens is going on?”

  “I don’t know,” Bert said grimly. “Let’s see if we can find out anything.”

  He got up and went over to the phone screen. He dialed University Information and said, “What is the position of Professor Leonard Katz on the faculty? What does he teach?”

  The robot-like voice said, “Professor Katz is not a member of the faculty of Mid-West University City. He is sometimes a visitor and has been given a permanent office. When the Professor is in residence, it is considered a honor to have him in our midst.”

  It took a long moment for Bert to think up the next question. He said, “Where is the Professor permanently based? Where does he teach?”

  “That information is not available.”

  “What the devil,” Jim said.

  Bert Alshuler had the list of names and Ability Quotient ratings in his hand. He traced a finger down the list until he came to Temple Alonzo Woolley.

  “Well, there wouldn’t be many of those,” he muttered, dialing Information. He said into the screen, ” I wish to speak to Temple Alonzo Woolley. I do not have his identity number. All I know about him is that he is probably between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five.”

  Shortly, a face faded it. It was a young man’s face, intelligent, clean-cut, handsome. He was frowning at this long distance call.

  Bert said, “Mr. Wooley, if you don’t mind, could you tell me from where you are speaking?”

  “Why, from my study. Who are you?”

  “I mean from what town?”

  “Why, here in Berkeley University City.”

  “I see. You’re participating in Professor Katz’ new teaching project, aren’t you?”

  “How did you know? It is supposed to be very restricted.”

  “I know,” Bert said sourly. “I’m on it too. It’s evidently not as restricted as we were led to believe. One other question. Are there any other students in Berkeley on it?”

  “I don’t know why I should tell you but as a matter of fact, there is. One other. Dorothy Wheeler. Now, just who are you to be asking questions?”

  Bert said, “Listen. You look too young to have been in the war.”

  “What’s that got to do with it? I wasn’t.”

  “Where did you take your Ability Quotient tests?”

  “Why, when I applied for university entrance I was informed that my I.Q. was exceptionally high and was offered the chance to compete for special tuition and a scholarship. I made the highest Ability Quotient rating and Professor Katz gave me this opportunity.”

  “Oh, you did. And this Dorothy Wheeler was second.”

  “Why, yes. But who are you and—”

  Bert flicked him off. “You aren’t very good at keeping secrets, friend,” he muttered.

  Jill began to say something, but he interrupted her. “Just a minute. Something else occurs to me.”

  He traced his finger down the list of names and finally came to Manfred Von Kauzchen.

  He said over his shoulder, “What’s the biggest university in that part of Common Europe that used to be Germany?”

  “Heidelberg, I suppose,” Jill said.

  He dialed International and said, “The University of Heidelberg, Heidelberg, Common Europe.”

  A woman’s face faded in and Bert said in atrocious German, “Do you have a student named Manfred Von k’auzchen?”

  She did something to one side and in less than a minute was back, full face. “Da. Would you rather speak in English?”

  “Yes,” he said thankfully. “May I talk to him, please?”

  Moments later, a new face faded in; one of the most Germanic faces Bert Alshuler could ever remember seeing: blonde, blue eyed, square and with that certain aggressiveness that is unmistakably Teutonic.

  Bert said in English, “You are acquainted with Professor Leonard Katz?”

  The other’s English was almost as poor as Bert’s German, but he said, “Yes, I am acquainted with the Herr Professor.”

  Bert said carefully, “Herr Kauzchen, are you a participant in his new educational methods project?”

  The other glared at him. “That is a secret!” he snapped. “I will not talk with you.” He clicked off.

  Bert came to his feet and returned to the others.

  He said, “That’s what I thought. Our big authority on the human brain has his project going in universities all over the world.” He checked down the list again. Dorothy Wheeler’s name was twentieth.

  Jim finished off his drink and went to replenish it “Nope, you made a mistake there, old buddy.”

  Bert said, “How do you mean?”

  “Katz isn’t a particularly big authority on the brain. It isn’t his field at all.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Bert said, “What in the hell are you talking about?”

  “I told you I prowled his study up there in the penthouse. Went through some of the books he’s done and all. I sure as the devil was out of my depth but I can tell you one thing, his specialty has nothing to do with the brain.”

  Jill said, “But he won a Nobel Prize once.”

  “So I’ve heard, Sweetie Pie, but not in any field even remotely involving the brain, or education, or speeding up I.Q.” Bert and Jill stared at him for a moment “Well, what was it in?” Bert said.

  “Search me. Some field of medicine, I guess, but it’s all so specialized now I didn’t even recognize the name. Shucks, all I am is a sophomore in this overgrown school.”

  Bert looked at Jill. “What did he win his Nobel Prize for?”

  “Why, I don’t know. I’ve heard that he won one, some years ago. When he first contacted me, I assumed that this project of his was in conjunction with the field in which he made his reputation. It was one of the reasons I had confidence in him, in spite of all the mysterious goings-on.”

  Bert Alshuler ran his palm over his mouth in supreme irritation. He got up and paced the room twice, his hinds jammed into his jacket pockets. Then he looked at Jill and said, “I asked you about that bit from Arthur C. Clarke. You haven’t run into it, eh?”

  “No. Not as yet.”

  “I think I can remember it, word for word. It comes from an old time book of his called Profiles of the Future: ‘…the mechanical educator—or some technique which performs similar functions—is such an urgent need that civilization can not continue for many more decades without it. The knowledge of the world is doubling every ten years and the rate itself is increasing. Already, twenty years of schooling are insufficient; soon we will have died of old age before we have learned to live, and our entire culture will have collapsed owing to its incomprehensible complexity.’ ”

  Jim gave him a surprised look. “Holy smokes, old buddy, have all these shots and all gotten you to the point where you can recite whole paragraphs of stuff you’ve read just once?”

  “Yes.”

  Jill said, “What do you conclude from that, Bert?”

  “I don’t know.” He stopped pacing and headed for the phone screen again. “Possibly that it’s time for a showdown.”

  He flicked the screen alive and said, “Professor Leonard Katz.”

  In a moment the screen said, “Professor Katz does not respond. He has restricted his phone to top priority.”

  Bert said, “Then Professor Ralph Marsh.”

  Marsh’s face faded in. “Confound it, Alshuler, what is it now? I seem to be free from your harassment only for a few hours a day.”

  Bert Alshuler ignored that. “I want to get in touch with Katz.”

  “He is out of town.”

  “He is practically always out of town for the very good reason that this isn’t his town. And I begin to suspect that no other town is either. He keeps on the move. He has to, to cover all his territory. Kay, Marsh. This is an ultimatu
m. Get both Kate and General Paul up to that penthouse the professor uses when he’s here in Mid-West. You come along too, Marsh, and anybody else in this vicinity that might be a big-wig in your whole conspiracy.”

  “Conspiracy, conspiracy! Are you jesting! Why, why, who do you think you are to order us about, Alshuler?”

  “I’ll tell you who I am, friend,” Bert said, his voice ice. “I’m the guy on whom they hung the name Killer Caine. And I have the reputation of being able to cause more trouble than any man who survived the Asian War. Get them here soonest, Marsh. Within two hours—two hours is enough by vacuum tube transport—or I begin to blow the whistle and start one of the biggest stinks this planet has ever seen.”

  He snapped the screen off.

  “Holy smokes, old buddy,” Jim said. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  “No.”

  Jim worked his lanky form to his feet and headed for the bar. “Then we’d better have another drink, old buddy.”

  “Stay away from that liquor, you rummy. I need you clear-headed.”

  Jim ignored him.

  Bert flicked on the phone screen again and said into it, “Captain Frank Harmon, of Security.”

  Harmon’s face came on and when he saw who it was he glowered.

  Bert bit out, “Can you get hold of Kenneth Kneedler?”

  “Why?”

  “Never mind. Answer.”

  The other’s face worked, but he said, “As a matter of fact, I can. That is, I just found out where he is. But I’ve been discharged, Caine. I suspect through your efforts.”

  “The hell with that. You know where Kneedler is, eh?”

  “Yes. The fool is no conspirator. He left his apartment without taking anything with him. In a hurry, evidently. But just a couple of hours ago, he used his Identity Card to order a few things from an ultra-market. Pajamas and such, for Christ sake. We zeroed in on him. He’s holed up in the apartment of a friend.”

  “Kay. Get him. Have him in the penthouse on top of the Acropolis Building two hours from now.”

  “Why?”

  “Because there’s going to be a showdown and he ought to be there. A showdown involving those four students who were finished off.”