Astounding Science Fiction (British Edition), April 1944 — page 59: what you’re looking at

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

GALLEGHER PLUS modestly. The whiskey revived him. But his mind still felt foggy. “Your ...uh... associates, by which I mean lousy thugs, tried to kidnap me earlier, didn’t they?” “Uh-huh. You weren’t in. That robot of yours—”’ “He’s a beaut.” “Yeah. Look, Blazer told me about the machine you had set up. I’d hate to have Smith get his hands on it.” Smith—Fatty. Hm-m-m. The jigsaw was dislocated again. Gallegher sighed. - If he played the cards close to his chest— “Smith hasn’t seen it yet.” “I know that,” Cuff said. “We’ve been tapping his visor beam. One of our spies found out he’d told DU he had a man work- ing on the job—you know? Only he didn’t mention the man’s name. All we could do was shadow Smith and tap his visor till he got in touch with you. After that—well, we caught the conversation. You told Smith you’d got the gadget.” “Well?” ’We cut in on the beam, fast, and Blazer and the boys went down to see you. I told you I didn’t want Smith to keep that contract.” “You never mentioned a contract,” Gal- legher said. “Don’t play dumb. Smith told ’em, up at DU, that he’d laid the whole case before you.” Maybe Smith had. Only Gallegher had been drunk at the time, and it was Gal- legher Plus who had listened, storing the information securely in the subconscious. “So?” Cuff burped. He pushed his glass away suddenly. “Ill see you later. I’m tight, blast it. Can’t think straight. But—I don’t want Smith to get that machine. Your robot won’t let us get near it. You'll get in touch with him by visor and send him off somewhere, so the boys can pick up your gadget. Say yes or no. If it’s no, I'll be back.” “No,” Gallegher said. “On account of you’d kill me anyway, to stop me from building another machine for Smith.” Cuffs lids drew down slowly over his eyes. He sat motionless, seemingly asleep, for a time. Then he looked at Gallegher blankly and stood up. “Tll see you later, then.” He rubbed a hand across his forehead; his voice was a little thick. “Blazer, keep the lug here.” The man with a gold tooth came forward. “You O.K.?” “Yeah. I can’t think—’ Cuff grimaced. “Turkish bath. That’s what I need.” He went 37 toward the door, pulling Blazer with him. Gallegher saw the alderman’s lips move. He read a few words. “drunk enough . try it—” | Then Cuff went out. Blazer came back, sat opposite Gallegher, and shoved the bottle toward him. “Might as well take it easy,” he suggested. “Have another; you need it.” Gallegher thought: Smart guys. They figure if I get stinko, I'll do what they want. Well— There was another angle. When Gallegher was thoroughly under the influence of alcohol, his subconscious took over. And Gallegher Plus was a scientific genius—mad, but good. Gallegher Plus might be able to figure a way out of this. “That’s it,’ Blazer said, watching the liquor vanish. “Have another. Max is a good egg. He wouldn’t put the bee on you. He just can’t stand people helixing up his plans.” - “What plans?” “Like with Smith,” Blazer explained. “T see.” Gallegher’s limbs were tingling. Pretty soon he should be = sufficiently saturated with alcohol to unleash his sub- conscious. He kept drinking. Perhaps he tried too hard. Usually «Gal- legher mixed his liquor judiciously. This time, the factors of the equation added up to a depressing zero. He saw the surface of the table moving slowly toward his nose, felt a mild, rather pleasant bump, and began to snore. Blazer got up and shook him. “One half so precious as the stuff they sell,’ Gallegher said thickly. “High-piping Pehlevi, with wine, wine, wine, wine. Red wine.” “Wine he wants,” Blazer said. “The guy’s a human blotter.’ He shook Gallegher again, but there was no response. Blazer grunted, and his footsteps sounded, growing fainter. : Gallegher heard the door close. He tried to sit up, slid off the chair, and banged his head agonizingly against the table leg. It was more effective than cold water. Wavering, Gallegher crawled to his feet. The attic room was empty except for him- self and other jetsam. He walked with ab- normal carefulness to the door. and tried it. Locked. Reinforced with steel, at that. “Fine stuff,’ Gallegher murmured. “The one time I need my subconscious, it stays buried. How the devil can I get out of here?” .. vise that robot... conmicbooo S (©