One-Shot | Page 5

gambler as
you could have taken it by design: a black double-breasted suit with a
thin vertical stripe, a gray silk tie with a pearl stickpin just barely large

enough to be visible at all, a black Homburg; all perfectly fitted, all
worn with proper casualness--one might almost say a formal casualness.
It was only when he opened his mouth that One-Shot Braun was in the
suit with him.
"I come over as soon as your runner got to me," he said. "What's the
pitch, Andy?"
"Mr. Braun, this is Joan Hadamard, Clark Cheyney, Colonel Anderton.
I'll be quick because we need speed now. A Polish ship has dropped
something out in the harbor. We don't know what it is. It may be a
hell-bomb, or it may be just somebody's old laundry. Obviously we've
got to find out which--and we want you to tell us."
Braun's aristocratic eyebrows went up. "Me? Hell, Andy, I don't know
nothing about things like that. I'm surprised with you. I thought CIA
had all the brains it needed--ain't you got machines to tell you answers
like that?"
I pointed silently to Joan, who had gone back to work the moment the
introductions were over. She was still on the mike to the divers. She
was saying: "What does it look like?"
"It's just a lump of something, Dr. Hadamard. Can't even tell its
shape--it's buried too deeply in the mud." Cloonk ... Oing, oing ...
"Try the Geiger."
"We did. Nothing but background."
"Scintillation counter?"
"Nothing, Dr. Hadamard. Could be it's shielded."
"Let us do the guessing, Monig. All right, maybe it's got a clockwork
fuse that didn't break with the impact. Or a gyroscopic fuse. Stick a
stethoscope on it and see if you pick up a ticking or anything that
sounds like a motor running."

* * * * *
There was a lag and I turned back to Braun. "As you can see, we're
stymied. This is a long shot, Mr. Braun. One throw of the dice--one
show-down hand. We've got to have an expert call it for us--somebody
with a record of hits on long shots. That's why I called you."
"It's no good," he said. He took off the Homburg, took his handkerchief
from his breast pocket, and wiped the hatband. "I can't do it."
"Why not?"
"It ain't my kind of thing," he said. "Look, I never in my life run odds
on anything that made any difference. But this makes a difference. If I
guess wrong--"
"Then we're all dead ducks. But why should you guess wrong? Your
hunches have been working for sixty years now."
Braun wiped his face. "No. You don't get it. I wish you'd listen to me.
Look, my wife and my kids are in the city. It ain't only my life, it's
theirs, too. That's what I care about. That's why it's no good. On things
that matter to me, my hunches don't work."
I was stunned, and so, I could see, were Joan and Cheyney. I suppose I
should have guessed it, but it had never occurred to me.
"Ten minutes," Cheyney said.
I looked up at Braun. He was frightened, and again I was surprised
without having any right to be. I tried to keep at least my voice calm.
"Please try it anyhow, Mr. Braun--as a favor. It's already too late to do
it any other way. And if you guess wrong, the outcome won't be any
worse than if you don't try at all."
"My kids," he whispered. I don't think he knew that he was speaking
aloud. I waited.

Then his eyes seemed to come back to the present. "All right," he said.
"I told you the truth, Andy. Remember that. So--is it a bomb or ain't it?
That's what's up for grabs, right?"
I nodded. He closed his eyes. An unexpected stab of pure fright went
down my back. Without the eyes, Braun's face was a death mask.
The water sounds and the irregular ticking of a Geiger counter seemed
to spring out from the audio speaker, four times as loud as before. I
could even hear the pen of the seismograph scribbling away, until I
looked at the instrument and saw that Clark had stopped it, probably
long ago.
Droplets of sweat began to form along Braun's forehead and his upper
lip. The handkerchief remained crushed in his hand.
Anderton said, "Of all the fool--"
"Hush!" Joan said quietly.
* * * * *
Slowly, Braun opened his eyes. "All right," he said. "You guys wanted
it this way. I say it's a bomb." He stared at us for a moment more--and
then, all at once, the Timkin bearing burst. Words poured out of it.
"Now you guys do something, do your job like I did mine--get