Double Take

  Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  _The barn turned out to be a spaceship in disguise, and that was only the beginning. Before his strange adventure ended, young Paul Asher found himself going around in circles--very peculiar circles indeed!_

  DOUBLE TAKE

  By Richard Wilson

  Illustrated by Paul Orban

  _Paul Asher, 27, men's furnishings buyer, leaned back and let the clothband be fastened across his chest, just under his armpits. He adjustedhis heavy spectacles, closed his eyes for a moment, breathed deeply, andwas off._

  The semi-darkness was dispelled as he shot out of a tunnel into dazzlingsunlight. The high-powered vehicle he was driving purred smoothly as ittook the long, rising curve. The road climbed steadily toward themountaintop city ahead. He looked around to satisfy himself that he wasalone in the car.

  He wasn't.

  The girl was a pretty one. He'd seen her somewhere before, he thought.She was looking insolently at him, her wide red mouth in a half smile.Her dark hair stirred in the breeze coming through the window, next toher, which was open just a slit.

  She said: "Just keep going, Sweetheart, as fast as you can." And shepatted the oversized pocketbook that lay in her lap.

  He pressed down on the accelerator and the car responded with a flow ofpower. The countryside fell away from the road on either side. Far belowhe could see a river, winding broadly to the far-off sea. The summer daysent its heat-shimmers across the miniature landscape.

  The road curved again. Theirs was the only car he had seen since he'dcome out of the tunnel. But now, far ahead, he saw another. It wasstanding at the side of the road, next to a gate that came down in themanner of one at a railroad crossing. But he knew by its black and whitediagonals and by the little sentry hut half hidden behind the other carthat it marked the frontier. A man with a rifle on his shoulder stoodthere. They drew up to it fast, but his foot automatically eased up onthe floorboard pedal until the girl spoke sharply.

  "Right through it, Sweetheart."

  In the rear-view mirror he saw her leaning forward, her face tense.

  In a moment it would be time to stop, if he were going to.

  _Paul Asher hesitated a moment. Then he too leaned forward, the bandpressing into his chest. He was breathing heavily. There was an almostinaudible click._

  He trod on the accelerator. He had a glimpse of the guard unslinging hisrifle from his shoulder and of another man running toward the parked caras his vehicle smashed into the flimsy gate and sent it, cracked andsplintered, to the side of the road. He fought the slight wrench of thewheel and sped on. He thought he heard a shot.

  "Nice work," the girl said. She seemed to be appraising him as shelooked at him. "My name, incidentally, is Naomi."

  "Hello," he heard himself saying as he whipped the car around a curvethat hid the frontier behind a hill. "You seem to know who I am."

  "That I do," she said.

  "Then why don't you call me by my name, instead of 'Sweetheart'?"

  "That's because I like you, Sweetheart." She was looking out the rearwindow. "Now just step on the gas, because we've got company."

  The car that had been parked near the sentry hut was whipping into viewaround the curve. It was lighter than his, but it was fast, too. Hestepped on it.

  * * * * *

  Now the road had become narrow and twisting. The grade was steep but thesurface was good. Abruptly, it entered a forest.

  The girl said: "Two more curves. Then you'll see a field and a barn. Offthe road and into the barn, fast."

  He took the curves with rubber screaming and almost without braking sentthe car bumping across the field and into the barn. It was bigger thanit had seemed from the outside. As he brought the car to a lurching haltthe barn door closed.

  Where he had expected to see stalls and milking machines and hay he sawan expanse of metal floor and monstrous machinery. The barn door whichhad been a rickety wooden slab from the outside was a gleaming sheet ofmetal from the inside. It glided silently shut and left no joint or seamto show where there had been an opening.

  "Out," said Naomi.

  As they left the car, a flexible metal arm snaked from one of the smoothwalls, attached itself to the front bumper of the vehicle, and whiskedit into a cubicle which opened to receive it and closed behind it.

  A power-driven wheelchair sped up to them. Sitting in it was a fat manof middle age, with pendulous jowls and a totally bald head. Hisexpression was a sardonic scowl.

  "You have the plans?" he asked the girl.

  "Sweetheart here has them."

  "I don't know what you're talking about," the young man said.

  "He knows, all right," the girl said. "He pretends to be innocent, butthat is merely his training. He has them under a sticking plaster onthe small of his back."

  "Remove your coat and shirt," commanded the man in the wheelchair.

  At that moment the floor shuddered under their feet, a gong began toclang insistently, and the giant machinery, which had been silent,throbbed into life.

  The man in the wheelchair whirled and was off, shouting commands to menwho materialized high on the walls in cylindrical turrets which thevisitor could only think of as battle stations.

  "What _is_ this place?" he asked.

  He got no answer. Instead the girl grabbed his arm and pulled him off tothe edge of the gigantic metal room. An opening appeared in the wall andshe pushed him through it into a room beyond. The entranceway snappedshut behind them and when he looked he could see no door. The room alsowas windowless.

  Naomi went to a metal table and as she looked down into its surface itbecame a screen. Mirrored in it was the mountainous countryside they haddriven through to get to the barn--or what had seemed to be a barn fromthe outside. He looked over her shoulder.

  They saw as from a height. There was the light car that had chased themfrom the frontier. Standing near it was a man in an officer's uniformand another in civilian clothes. They were talking and gesturing. Besidethe car was a tank. As they watched, its gun fired and the structurethey were in shuddered, but they heard no sound.

  Lumbering up the mountain road were more tanks and a self-propelled gun.One of the tanks became enveloped in smoke and flames as they watched.After a moment the smoke cleared. The tank was gone; where it had beenthere was a deep crater.

  Gradually, the figures in the drama below grew smaller. At the same timethe vista widened, so that they saw more and more countryside. Ittwisted beneath them and the horizon came giddily into view. A fewmoments later the curvature of the earth could be plainly seen.

  Everything fitted together at once. Some of the things, anyway.

  "We're in a ship," he said. "Some kind of rocket-ship."

  "It's a planet plane," the girl said. "We're safe now."

  "Safe from what?" he asked. "What's this all about?"

  She smiled enigmatically. "Hafitz could tell you, if he chose. He's theboss."

  "The man in the wheelchair?"

  She nodded and took out a compact. As she added lipstick to her mouth,she looked him over, between glances in her mirror.

  "You don't look like the spy type. If there is a type."

  "I'm not a spy. I don't know what you're talking about."

  "The innocent! Go on, take off your coat and shirt. We'll save Hafitzsome time."

  "I'll be glad to, just to prove this is all ridiculous. A case ofmistaken identity. You've made a mistake, that's what you've done."

  He stood there, hesitating.

  The girl gave a burst of laughter. Then she said: "All right,Sweetheart. I'll turn my back."

  She did, and he pulled his shirt out of h
is trousers. Then he froze.Taped to the skin of his back was a flat package.

  _Paul Asher made the decision. He bent forward, feeling perspiration inthe palms of his hands. There was a faint click._

  * * * * *

  Quickly he ripped the adhesive from his back. There was an instant ofpain as the plaster came free. He wadded up the sticky package, droppedit to the floor and kicked it under the desk.

  Then he took off his coat, tie and shirt.

  "You can turn around now," he said.

  "A more modest spy I've never seen. Okay," she said, "now _you_ turnaround."

  "As you see," he said, "there are no plans--no papers."

  "No--not now. But there is a red mark on your back. What is it?"

  "Oh," he said. "Oh--that's a birthmark."

  She spun him around to face her. Her face was harsh. She slapped hischeek. "Where is the sticking plaster? Don't trifle with me."

  Her eyes bored into his. He returned the gaze, then shrugged.

  "Under the desk," he said. "I tore it off and kicked it under the desk."

  "You are sensible to confess," she said.

  She bent down, unwisely.

  _Paul Asher felt the familiar tightening in his chest as he leanedforward. The click was barely heard._

  He raised his hand and brought the edge of it down hard on the back ofher neck.

  She crumpled and fell to the metal floor. He noticed that a smear of herfreshly-applied lipstick came off on it.

  He pushed the unconscious body aside and fished the packet out fromunder the desk. He searched the room for another hiding place.

  But it was too late. A section of wall opened and Hafitz, the fat man inthe wheelchair, sped in.

  He wheeled past the young man, looked briefly at the unconscious girl,then whisked himself around.

  "You will pay for this, my friend," he said. "But first we will have theplans for the way-station. Where are they?"

  "I don't know anything about any plans and I don't know anything about away-station. I tried to tell the girl: it's all a crazy mistake."

  "We will see," said Hafitz. He pressed a button on the arm of hiswheelchair and two bruisers appeared through the walls, in the abruptway people had of materializing here. Bruisers was the only way theycould be described. They were human brutes, all muscle and malevolence.

  "Take them," said Hafitz, indicating the unconscious girl and the youngman. "Take them and search them for a small packet. If you do not findit, search this room. If you do not find it still, hurt the male animal.They persuade well with pain here, I understand. But do not kill him. Iwill be in the communications room."

  He sped off, through a wall opening.

  One of the bruisers picked up the girl, roughly, and disappeared withher. The other grabbed the young man and hauled him off in a thirddirection. The young man hastily snatched up his coat, shirt and tie enroute.

  They ended up in a cell of a room, about seven feet in all directions,in which the bruiser stripped him, methodically went through each pieceof clothing, and then satisfied himself that he didn't have the packetanywhere on his body.

  The muscle-man then raised a fist.

  "Wait," his prospective victim said. He thought back quickly. "Hafitzdidn't say you could bat me around till you searched the room, too."

  The other spoke for the first time. "You say the truth." He put his armdown.

  The young man watched intently as the bruiser went through the wall ofthe cell-like room.

  He dressed fast. By placing his fingers in exactly the same position asthe other had done, was able to make the wall open for him.

  The silver-metal corridor had two directions. He went to the right.After many turnings, at each of which he reconnoitered carefully, hecame to a passageway that was damp. Why it was damp he couldn't tell,but there in the wetness were tracks which could have been made by awheelchair.

  He followed them, feeling the throb of giant engines underfoot.

  * * * * *

  The wheelchair tracks abruptly made a ninety-degree turn and ended at ablank wall. Somewhere beyond it must be the communications room.

  He retreated and waited.

  In time the wall snapped open and Hafitz sped out. The young manretreated into the maze of corridors and hoped chance would be on hisside. It was. Hafitz went another way.

  The young man ran back to the wall and used his fingers on it in thecombination he had learned. It opened for him.

  He closed it behind him and blinked at the huge instrument panel whichfilled almost the entire room.

  One of the instruments was a color vision screen, tuned in to a room inwhich there was a mahogany desk, at which was seated a man in uniform.Behind him was a map of the United States.

  The man in uniform was a major general in the Air Force. An aide, alieutenant colonel, was leaning over the desk. He had a sheaf of papersin his hand. The men's conversation was audible.

  "Messages have been coming in from all over Europe," the colonel wassaying. "Here's the way it reconstructs:

  "Our agent was en route to the rendezvous when he was intercepted byNaomi. That's the only name we have for her. She's a spy. She's workedfor half a dozen countries and her present employer could be any one ofthem. They were spotted as they crossed the frontier between Italy andFrance. Their car went into a barn and we thought we had them. But thebarn turned out to be a spaceship in disguise. It took off."

  _So I'm their agent, Paul Asher thought. So that's what it's all about.I'm a secret agent for the United States, but they didn't tell meanything about it. This is real George, this is ... He expected to heara faint click and leaned forward experimentally, but nothing happened.He leaned backward. Still nothing._

  The colonel was answering a question from the general. "We don't knowwho they are, Sir. They're not from Earth, obviously. And the bestscientific minds go still further--they're not even from our solarsystem. Whoever they are, it's clear that they don't want us to build away-station in space."

  "Those spaceships started buzzing around right after our first Moontrip," the general said. "This is the first time they've become reallytroublesome--now that we've got the Moon under control and are ready tobuild the way-station so we can get to Mars."

  "That's right, Sir," said the colonel.

  "Progress is a wonderful thing," said the general. "Things certainlyhave changed since those early days of strategic atomic bombing andguided missile experiments."

  "Yes, Sir," said the colonel.

  The young man in the communications room of the spaceship let hisattention wander away from the scene back on Earth and experimented withsome of the switches and controls. Trial and error led him to one whichlit up a signal on the desk of the general.

  The general flicked it on.

  "Yes?" he said. He looked puzzled when he got no picture, just a voicesaying, "Hello, hello."

  "Yes?" he said. "Hello. Speak up, man."

  "This is your agent aboard the enemy spaceship," said the young man. "Doyou read me?"

  "Yes," said the general. "We read you. Go ahead."

  "I may not have much time. Get a fix on me if you can. And send help."

  "What's your position?" the general was reacting well. He was alert andall business.

  "I don't know. I've been taken prisoner, but I'm temporarily free. Thereisn't much time. Hafitz is bound to be back soon. He seems to be thebrains of this outfit--this part of the outfit, anyway. Naomi is here,too, but I don't know whether she's with them or against them."

  "Where are the plans, son?" asked the general.

  "They're safe, for the moment. I can't guarantee for how long."

  "I'm getting the fix," the colonel said. He was beyond the range of theyoung man's vision screen. "I've got him. He's still within range, butaccelerating fast. We can intercept if we get up a rocket soon enough."

  "Get it up," ordered the general. "Get up a squadron. Scramble the Moonpatrol
and send out reserves from Earth at once."

  "Right!" said the colonel.

  The young man was so engrossed in the makings of his rescue party thathe didn't see the wall open up behind him.

  There was a squeak of rubber tires and he whirled to see Hafitz, in hiswheelchair, slamming toward him. The fat man's hand held a weird-lookinggun.

  The young man recoiled. His back pushed against a row of controlbuttons.

  _Then everything went white._

  * * * * *

  Paul Asher blinked his eyes, like a man awakening from a vivid dream.

  The house lights went on and the manager of the theater came on thestage. He stood in front of the blank master screen with itscheckerboard pattern of smaller screens, on which the several lines ofaction had taken place simultaneously. Paul took off his selectorscopespectacles with the earphone attachments.

  "Ladies and gentlemen," the manager said. "I regret very much having toannounce that this vicarion of the production _Spies from Space_ wasdefective. The multifilm has broken and, because of the complexity ofthe vikie process, it will be impossible to splice it without returningit to the laboratory.

  "Ushers are at the exits with passes good for any future performance.Those of you who prefer can exchange them at the box office for a fullrefund of your admission price."

  Paul Asher unstrapped the wired canvas band from across his chest.