A Spaceship Named: 45 Sci-Fi Novels & Stories in One Volume. Randall Garrett

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СКАЧАТЬ to understand what happened, you've got to get the whole picture."

      "Sure," Malone said.

      "Only that isn't what I mean," Burris added suddenly.

      Malone blinked. "What isn't what you mean?" he said.

      "Understanding what happened," Burris said. "That's the trouble. You won't understand what happened. I don't understand it and neither does anybody else. So what do you think about it?"

      "Think about what?" Malone said.

      "About what I've been telling you," Burris snapped. "This car."

      Malone took a deep breath. "Well," he said, "this officer went over to check the license plate. It seems like the right thing to do. It's just what I'd have done myself."

      "Sure you would," Burris said. "Anybody would. But listen to me."

      "All right, chief," Malone said.

      "It was just after dawn—early in the morning." Malone wondered briefly if there were parts of the world where dawn came, say, late in the afternoon or during the evening some time, but he said nothing. "The street was deserted," Burris went on. "But it was pretty light out, and the witnesses are willing to swear that there was nobody on that street for a block in either direction. Except them, of course."

      "Except who?" Malone said.

      "Except the witnesses," Burris said patiently. "Four cops, police officers who were standing on the front steps of the precinct station, talking. They were waiting to go on duty, or anyhow that's what the report said. It's lucky they were there, for whatever reason; they're the only witnesses we've got."

      Burris stopped. Malone waited a few seconds and then said, as calmly as he could: "Witnesses to what?"

      "To this whole business with Sergeant Jukovsky," Burris said.

      The sudden introduction of a completely new name confused Malone for an instant, but he recovered gamely. "Sergeant Jukovsky was the man who investigated the car," he said.

      "That's right," Burris said. "Except that he didn't."

      Malone sighed.

      "Those four officers—the witnesses—they weren't paying much attention to what looked like the routine investigation of a parked car," Burris said. "But here's their testimony. They were standing around talking when this Sergeant Jukovsky came out of the station, spoke to them in passing, and went on across the street. He didn't seem very worried or alarmed about anything."

      "Good," Malone said involuntarily. "I mean, go on, chief," he added.

      "Ah," Burris said. "All right. Well. According to Jukovsky, he took a look at the plate and found the numbers checked the listing he had for a stolen Connecticut car. Then he walked around to take a look inside the car. It was empty. Get that, Malone. The car was empty."

      "Well," Malone said, "it was parked. I suppose parked cars are usually empty. What's special about this one?"

      "Wait and see," Burris said ominously. "Jukovsky swears the car was empty. He tried the doors, and they were all locked but one, the front door on the curb side, the driver's door. So he opened it, and leaned over to have a look at the odometer to check the mileage. And something clobbered him on the back of the head."

      "One of the other cops," Malone said.

      "One of the ... who?" Burris said. "No. Not the cops. Not at all."

      "Then something fell on him," Malone said. "O.K. Then whatever fell on him ought to be—"

      "Malone," Burris said.

      "Yes, chief?"

      "Jukovsky woke up on the sidewalk with the other cops all around him. There was nothing on that sidewalk but Jukovsky. Nothing could have fallen on him; it hadn't landed anywhere, if you see what I mean."

      "Sure," Malone said. "But—"

      "Whatever it was," Burris said, "they didn't find it. But that isn't the peculiar thing."

      "No?"

      "No," Burris said slowly. "Now—"

      "Wait a minute," Malone said. "They looked on the sidewalk and around there. But did they think to search the car?"

      "They didn't get a chance," Burris said. "Anyhow, not just then. Not until they got around to picking up the pieces of the car uptown, at 125th Street."

      Malone closed his eyes. "Where was this precinct?" he said.

      "Midtown," Burris said. "In the Forties."

      "And the pieces of the car were eighty blocks away when they searched it?" Malone said.

      Burris nodded.

      "All right," Malone said pleasantly. "I give up."

      "Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you," Burris said. "According to the witnesses—not Jukovsky, who didn't wake up for a couple of minutes and so didn't see what happened next—after he fell out of the car, the motor started and the car drove off uptown."

      "Oh," Malone said. He thought about that for a minute and decided at last to hazard one little question. It sounded silly—but then, what didn't? "The car just drove off all by itself?" he said.

      Burris seemed abashed. "Well, Malone," he said carefully, "that's where the conflicting stories of the eyewitnesses don't agree. You see, two of the cops say there was nobody in the car. Nobody at all. Of any kind. Small or large."

      "And the other two?" Malone said.

      "The other two swear they saw somebody at the wheel," Burris said, "but they won't say whether it was a man, a woman, a small child or an anthropoid ape—and they haven't the faintest idea where he, she or it came from."

      "Great," Malone said. He felt a little tired. This trip was beginning to sound less and less like a vacation.

      "Those two cops swear there was something—or somebody—driving the car," Burris said. "And that isn't all."

      "It isn't?" Malone said.

      Burris shook his head. "A couple of the cops jumped into a squad car and started following the red Cadillac. One of these cops saw somebody in the car when it left the curb. The other one didn't. Got that?"

      "I've got it," Malone said, "but I don't exactly know what to do with it."

      "Just hold on to it," Burris said, "and listen to this: the cops were about two blocks behind at the start, and they couldn't close the gap right away. The Cadillac headed west and climbed up the ramp of the West Side Highway, heading north, out toward Westchester. I'd give a lot to know where they were going, too."

      "But they crashed," Malone said, remembering that the pieces were at 125th Street. "So—"

      "They didn't crash right away," Burris said. "The prowl car started gaining on the Cadillac slowly. And—now, get this, Malone—both the cops swear there was somebody in the driver's seat now."

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