Many men would have killed to possess the
painting—for Tom Calhoun knew it held a key to
knowledge that would rock the scientific world!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
April 1957
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
"Hold it, buddy," this fellow said, coming along the bar toward me. "Iwant to talk to you."
The way he spoke set my teeth on edge. There was a whining, placatingtone in his voice, but under this was a growl which indicated that ifhe had the chance, he would be glad to order me to stop and talk tohim, instead of asking me. His clothes were expensive, but unpressed,and he was wearing them in a way that I didn't like. There was anotherthing about him that I liked even less—the slight bulge under his leftarmpit.
All in all there was only one thing that I liked about him—the way hislower jaw stuck out ahead of the rest of his face. It was a perfecttarget for a left jab.
"You're Luke Shaw, ain't you?" he asked.
"I am. And so what?" He looked me over carefully after I spoke. A faintflicker of grudging respect appeared on his face as his gaze crossedmy shoulders. He measured me for a hidden gun, which he didn't findbecause I wasn't wearing it. He liked this. It made his job safer, ifnot easier.
"Look, Luke, I'm not trying to stir up any trouble." The whiningtone was back in his voice. "I just wanted to know—you work for TomCalhoun, eh?"
I felt my back hair begin to raise as he mentioned Tom's name. Sofar as I knew—and it was my business to know—Tom Calhoun didn'thave an enemy on Earth. He had me on his payroll for two reasons, thefirst being that I was the best friend he ever had, with the possibleexception of Ann Briscoe, his laboratory assistant, the second reasonbeing that he knew he could trust me right down to his last chip.Sometimes it gets important to have one guy you can really trust. Myjob was to shoo away all curiosity seekers, who would invade his labby the scores just to get a glimpse of the great scientist, thusmaking certain that Tom got all the privacy he wanted, which was aboutall there was of this article. Also if the commies should come pryingaround, I was supposed to meet them and roll out the carpet edged inblack. They had and I had.
Long Jaw didn't look like a commie, though in my experiences thesebirds never look like what they are but always like something else. Thething that makes them commies is inside, where it can't be seen, neveroutside.
"Whatever you've got on your mind, get it off," I said. As I spoke acouple of new customers came into the little saloon and lined up at theback bar. Ned Kenro, owner of the place and my good friend, went backto serve them.
"How would you like to make a couple of thousand bucks for yourself?"
His question staggered me. Two thousand dollars was a lot of money."What do I have to do for it?" I asked.
"Give me the key to the back door of Calhoun's laboratory," Long Jawsaid. As he spoke he watched my face. What he saw there, made himrealize he had said too much. He reached for the gun inside his coat.
He was fast, I'll give him credit for that. But not fast enough.
Smack! My left jab caught him on the end of his protruding jaw, righton the button. He got his feet tangled up with the bar rail and wentover backward. The gun, a nasty looking little .38, flew out of hishand. I reached to pick it up. This movement probably saved my life.
A beer bottle came down across the left side of my head and struckmy shoulder a numbi