American Science Fiction #41 — page 25: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ay Heeyed th: turret of the mini- ature, noted how the automatic range- fine’ devices," that’ were “causing “trouble at Aberdeen, were incorporat- ed into the turret itself, in a neat armoured sheath. _.. He thought, Lord! I wonder if that’s Up the answer... Then he thought that, af it were, the whole world would soon - *A honey, isn’t it?” said the curly- headed lad. He added, wistfully, “It €osts twelve dollars and eighty-six cents, with tax.” . “It’s a honey, all right,” said the General automatically. Actually, he was appalled—a _ possibly decisive “weapon on sale to all and sundry for twelve dollars and eighty-six cents! Of Soe the intricate inner workings Ne The General took direct action. He } Fwrcnt to the clerk and said, “How many have you?” pointing to the sub- ject of his question. _ “Neat—perfect workmanship,” said ‘the clerk, donning his selling clothes. “Flow many?” the General repeated, “Only the one in the case left,” the clerk replied. “I just sold the last one in stock a moment ago. We’ ve only } had four delivered so far.” _-. “Stl take it,” said the General in a i fever of impatience. He had to get it out of public view at once—although he had a sick sensation of already _being too late.\He recalled the Slavic ' appearance, the accent of the man © ie who had made the last purchase. When the clerk had wrapped it up, and he had paic for it, the General “te asked to see the manager, who proved '. to be a pleasantly tweedy individual. Rd te He produced his card and said, “Tm Gated this man Mee has ViO- a, “The manager’s eapresden was not ‘friendly. He ‘said, “Mr. MacReedy’s a liniatures are marketed nowhere else; e has an exclusive contract with us.” He evidently resented the General’s gruff approach as much as the General resented not being addressed by title. _ * Civilians! the General thought. The ) ‘THE FINAL FIGURE "8s damned fools don't understaad— they t pny Pe pe aah id Stony 1 Hila jou he ai vay teaid: ae acid : "Have to talk to hi “Uncle Angus? He lives next door. I’m going home now—I can show ou.’ ' The General had forgotten the male moppet. He looked down in surprise, then up at the manager, who’ Said, “It’s quite true. This is Toby. He helps Mr. MacReedy; he’s a collector himself in a small way.’ The General took Toby back with him to the hotel. He knew he ‘should be burning up the wires to Washington with news of his: horrendous discovery, but somehow he wanted to see it through himself—as far as he was able. Besides, there were certain puz- zling facets that would: scarcely. look plausible in the dehydrated prose: of an official report to Security. ‘It smacked almost of the super— natural. Eyeing his small guest; who was happily and rather messily deé- vouring a piece of French pastry, accompanied by a bottle of ginger-ale —sent up by room service—the Gene- ral suppressed a chill that rose from his coccyx to his cervical vertebrae.’ Like most veteran men of action, | the General did not decry the super- natural—such decrying was the pro- perty of armchair logicians. In the course of his long career he had seen too many things that defied logic or logical explanation. | He said, “Ready to take off, Toby?” PY €s, sir,” ‘said the lad, He was properly impressed with the General’s rank—revealed to him by the assistant manager in the lobby. Then, with a sudden shadow of anxiety, * ‘You aren’t going to arrest Uncle Angus, are you, sir?” The General managed a chuckle.’ No sense in getting the lad ‘scared: “No, I just want to talk to fitm.” — “Pil go with you,” the lad offered. “Most grownups have a’ hard’ time talking to Uncle Angus. Even dad °.." Whatever was his father’s © ‘problem with the prophetic model-maker re- mained unstated, as Toby managed to wrap lips and teeth around ‘a large final Sain of pastry. He then went to CcommicloOolks.cOnhn