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Maya Cara Nome looked from her furnished room through cracked shuttersat the building across the street.
A barber college. The building at 49 Sage Avenue, Mars City, was abarber college.
That surprised her. She didn't know exactly what she had expected: ahospital, perhaps, or even a kindergarten. But a barber college!
But the source of the information she had received that 49 Sage Avenuewas the address she sought was unimpeachable. She had ferreted it out,after a long time and through devious ways, and she was sure she couldtrust it.
"The Childress Barber College" read the neatly lettered sign above thedoor. Maya's landlady, moon-faced Mrs. Chan, had pointed out OxvaneChildress to her as he left the building one day: a big man,comfortably stomached, with a heavy brown beard which, even at thatdistance, she could see was shot with gray.
As innocent as you please. Childress came out and went in, the studentswent in and came out. Still, it was the address she had been given.
Maya had to gain entrance to the building. She could learn nothingwatching it from outside. She was established here as a tourist fromEarth; besides, the position and activities of women were prescribedrigidly by Martian colonial convention, and women did not study tobecome barbers on Mars.
She would have to have help. She, thought at once of Nuwell, and asimmediately rejected him.
"Maya, I don't see why you insist on working alone," he had complained."I can set the whole machinery of government in motion to help you,whenever you need it."
"Primarily because you're well known and your activities are observed,"she had answered. "Your whole government machinery hasn't been effectivein tracking down the rebel headquarters yet, and it's reasonable toassume that the rebels have a fairly effective intelligence network. Myjob is to find that headquarters, and if I were seen very often with youor tried to utilize your government machinery, they'd have me pinpointedpretty soon."
She left the window, filled a tiny basin with precious water, shruggedout of her negligee and sponged her small, perfect body. She donnedform-fitting tunic, briefs and short skirt, pulled on knee-length socksand laced up Martian walking shoes. She spent some time preparing herhair and face.
Then she left the room and the house and walked uptown. The walk wasabout a kilometer, along sidewalks bordered by cubical, functionalhouses and trim lawns of terrestrial grass and small trees. Above thecity, its dome was opalescent in the morning sun.
The small houses gave way to larger business buildings, also cubical,and the lawns dwindled and vanished. Farther down, the buildings wereeven larger and the streets were wider and busier; but she was notgoing into the heart of Mars City.
She turned into an office building, and studied the directory in thelobby. The offices were those of doctors and lawyers. On the directoryshe found "Charlworth Scion, Attorney-at-Law, Room 207."
There was no elevator. Maya walked up the stairs and down a corridor,finding a door that had nothing on it but the number. She turned theknob and went in.
The small outer office was uninhabited. It was carpeted and desked, withtwo straight chairs against a wall, for clients. Through a door, shecould see part of the inner office, cluttered and stacked with papersand books.
She stood there, hesitating. The outer door clicked shut behind her. Atthe sound, a gray-haired, preoccupied man with spectacles and stoopedshoulders peered from the inner office.
"Oh!" he said. "I'm sorry, my secretary went to lunch a bit early today.Can I help you, Miss?"
"I'm looking for Mr. Scion," she said.
"I'm Charlworth Scion."
"Terra outshines the Sun," said Maya.
Scion's eyes were suddenly wary behind the spectacles.
"Well, well," he murmured. "Come in, please."
She went into the cluttered inner office, and Scion closed and lockedthe door.
"And you are ...?" said Scion behind his desk, his pale hands fumblingaimlessly with papers.
"Maya Cara Nome," she said.
Scion found a paper and scanned it. He apparently found her name there.
"I'm surprised to see you here," he admitted. "Our information was thatyou would be working entirely alone."
"I am," said Maya. "Or I was. I was told not to contact you unless I hadto, Mr. Scion, but it seems I'm going to need some help."
Scion inclined his head, but said nothing.
"As you may or may not know, my specific assignment is to locate thenerve center of rebellious activity," said Maya. "It seems that therebels have an intelligence network about as effective as thegovernment's, and it was felt that a woman tourist from Earth might besuccessful where any unusual probing by local agents might arousesuspicion."
"That's true," conceded Scion. "I doubt that they're really sure of theidentity of more than a few of our agents, but sometimes I think theyhave a card file on every person on Mars. We have to be very carefulthat movements of our agents are consistent with their pretendedoccupations."
"I have a reliable tip that their nerve center is the Childress BarberCollege here," she said. "I can't find out anything, though, unless Iget into the building over a period of time. As a woman, I can't verywell apply to study barbering."
"No," said Scion. "I see your problem."
He turned to a filing cabinet, unlocked it and searched through it,whistling tunelessly. He found a folder, pulled it out and studied it.
"If it is, they've certainly kept it well covered," he said. "There'snot a mark of suspicion entered against the Childress Barber College.But here's a possibility for getting you in. The barber college employsone secretary, female. Now, if you could take her place...."
Maya smiled.
"I might as well apply as a barber student," she said. "You propose toremove a trusted member of their own group from their midst and replaceher with a complete unknown?"
"We don't know that she's a rebel," answered Scion. "If she isn't, shecan be lured away to another job at a much better salary. If she is, andcan't be lured ... well, there are other methods. The Mars CityEmployment Agency is operated by one of our agents, and you'll be theonly secretary available when the barber college asks for a woman tofill her place.
"Believe me, Miss Cara Nome, as easy as it is for a woman to get marriedon Mars, it is difficult to find women to do any sort of business work.It won't seem at all strange that you're the only one available."
"The only trouble is that I'm known in the neighborhood as a touristfrom Earth," objected Maya.
"Well," said Scion, "things have been more expensive than you plannedfor on Mars. You've run short of money. You have to work for a while topay living expenses here until the next ship leaves for Earth."
"My account at the bank?"
"It will vanish quietly from the records," said Scion with a smile. "Thebank is a government institution."
"Very well," said Maya, taking her purse from his desk. "Let me knowwhen I'm to apply."
"You won't hear from me again," said Scion, shaking his head. "Theemployment agency will notify you to appear at the barber college for aninterview."
Maya knew of Scion only as her emergency contact on Mars. She did notknow what position he held in that underground network of terrestrialagents which was largely unknown even to Nuwell Eli, the governmentprosecutor. But, whatever his position, he got things done in a hurry.
Within two weeks, Maya was typing up applications, examination reportsand supply orders in the Childress Barber College, joking and flirtingwith barber students between classes, and naively declaiming to herostensible employer, phlegmatic Oxvane Childress, how lucky it was forher that she was able to get a job right across the street from herrooming house.
"The work's easy," rumbled Childress, explaining her tasks to her. "Anytime you want to take a coffee break with any of the young men, or gouptown shopping, go ahead, as long as the work gets done. Just onething: you have to stay up here in the front of the building, and don'tever go back in the classrooms. The ins
tructors are mighty strict aboutthat, and that's one rule I won't stand to be violated."
This significant restriction convinced Maya she was on the right track.But she needed to move cautiously, if she was not to arouse immediatesuspicion. So she adhered strictly to her role for nearly a month,keeping her eyes open.
If it was a rebel operation, it was almost perfectly disguised.Childress performed the duties of the administrative head of a barbercollege, and nothing more. The students, about fifty of them, went inand out at regular school hours, and she became casually acquainted witha good many of them. The half-dozen instructors, whom she also came toknow, were less regular in their movements, but she could detect nothingsuspicious about them.
"We cut the hair of Mars," was the college's motto, and she learned thatit was the larger of only two barber colleges on the planet. Apparently,it actually did supply graduate barbers to all the dome cities. It tookin customers for the students to practice on, and, although many of themwere strangers, some of them were prominent Mars City citizens whom sheknew by sight.
There was no question about it: partially, at least, it was a legitimatebarber college, whatever other activities it might mask. The only thingnoticeably unusual on the surface was that it was extremely selective inits approval of students who applied for courses in barbering. Shediscerned that through her processing of the applications.
If she was going to find out anything definite, she would have to getinto the forbidden rear portion of the building. But obviously therewere legitimate classrooms there, in addition to the activities shesuspected, and if she were caught nosing around the classrooms she wouldbe discharged at once for violation of the rules, without finding outwhat she sought. She would have to hit it right the first time.
Biding her time and watching, she was able to learn, almost intuitively,from the movements of students, customers and instructors, that theclassrooms in which barbering was actually taught were all concentratedon the western side of the building. If there were any more sinisteractivities, they occurred on the opposite side. Having determined this,she planned her course of action.
Near the end of her first month at work, she chose her time one daywhen Childress was downtown, leaving her alone in the business office.The afternoon classes were in full swing.
Taking along a filled-out order form as an excuse, Maya walked quicklydown the corridor that stretched across the front of the building.Carefully and quietly, she pushed open the door at the extreme end ofthe corridor--a little surprised, as a matter of fact, to find itunlocked.
She was in another corridor, that struck straight back to the rear ofthe building.
She hesitated. There were doors spaced all along both sides of thiscorridor. Did she dare attempt to open one, on the chance that the roombehind it was unoccupied?
Then she saw that one door, a little way down, stood half open. Quietlyshe walked down the hall, not quite to the door, but near enough to itto be able to see a large area of the room behind it.
There were people in there. In the part she was able to see, there werehalf a dozen students seated, and one of the instructors standing amongthem. Fortunately, their backs were to her.
Whatever they were studying, it was not barbering. There was anoccasional murmur of voices, but she could not make out the words.
Then she saw! On the table at the front of the room, which the studentsfaced, there was a big barber's basin.
As she watched, the basin slowly raised off the table and moved upward afew inches. No one was near it, but it floated there, quivering andtilting a little, in the air. And then, from it, slowly, the wateritself came up in a weird fountain, moved completely free of the basinand hung above it in the air, gradually assuming the form of a globe.
Telekinesis! This was a class in telekinesis! The students wereconcentrating on the basin and water, and lifting them into the air bythe power of their minds.
This was indeed the heart of the rebel movement. She had found what shesought.
"Aren't you where you shouldn't be, young lady?" asked a calm masculinevoice behind her.
Shocked, terrified, she whirled. A tall, handsome, dark-haired man shehad never seen before was standing there, observing her quizzically. Hispale eyes seemed to look through her and beyond her.
She forced herself to casual composure.
"I don't believe I've met you," she said. "Are you one of theinstructors?"
"I'm Dark Kensington, one of the supervisors," he replied. "And you'reMiss Cara Nome, the secretary, who shouldn't be back here."
Had he noticed that she saw the telekinetic action? She glanced back atthe classroom. The basin was now comfortably ensconced back on thetable, full of water.
"I had this order, which I thought was of an emergency nature," shesaid, offering it to him. "Mr. Childress wasn't in, and I thought I'dbetter find one of the instructors so it could be approved and go outright away."
Dark took it and glanced at it.
"I doubt that its emergency nature is as grave as you may have thought,"he said soberly. "However, Mr. Childress would be better qualified tojudge that. You understand that I shall have to report this infractionof the rules to him."
Suddenly, Maya was overwhelmed by an utterly terrifying sensation. Itseemed that these pale-blue eyes were looking into her mind, searching,seeking to determine her thoughts and her true intention.
Instinctively, not knowing how she did it, she veiled her thoughts witha psychic barrier. And, instinctively, she recognized that he detectedthe barrier and could not penetrate it.
Telepathy? Why not, if they were experimenting successfully withtelekinesis?
"I'm sorry," she murmured hurriedly, and brushed past him. He did nottry to detain her.
She hurried back to the office. She hurried, but as she hurried downfirst the one corridor and then the other, she discovered that her stepswere slowing involuntarily. A powerful force seemed to be detainingher, attempting to draw her back.
Frightened but curious, she attempted to analyze this force even as shestruggled against it. She could not be sure--it was disturbing, eitherway, but she could not be sure whether it was a telepathic thing ormerely the magnetic force of this man's powerful masculine personalitythat pulled at her.
In a state of mental turmoil, she reached the office. Childress was notyet back.
Should she wait for him?
Then, as suddenly as she had sensed Dark Kensington's telepathicprobing, she sensed something else. Somewhere in the back of thebuilding, he was talking to another man she had not seen before, andwithin ten minutes Dark Kensington would be in this office. And theprospect she faced was far more serious than mere discharge forinfringement of company rules.
She had to get in touch with Nuwell at once. She recognized that if shecould get out of this building and across the street to her roominghouse, she would be safe for a little while. She could telephone Nuwellfrom there.
Grabbing her purse, she hastened out of the office.
Rebels of the Red Planet Page 5