One-Shot | Page 5

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 my wife and kids out of there--empty the city--do something, do something!"
Anderton was already grabbing for the phone. "You're right, Mr. Braun. If it isn't already too late--"
Cheyney shot out a hand and caught Anderton's telephone arm by the wrist. "Wait a minute," he said.
"What d'you mean, 'wait a minute'? Haven't you already shot enough time?"
Cheyney did not let go; instead, he looked inquiringly at Joan and said, "One minute, Joan. You might as well go ahead."
She nodded and spoke into the mike. "Monig, unscrew the cap."
"Unscrew the cap?" the audio squawked. "But Dr. Hadamard, if that sets it off--"
"It won't go off. That's the one thing you can be sure it won't do."
"What is this?" Anderton demanded. "And what's