The Old Die Rich Page 5

1938,$10 was real money.

  We got a mile away from the bank and the driver looked at me in therear-view mirror.

  "How far you want to go, mister?"

  My teeth were together so hard that I had to unclench them before Icould answer, "As far away as we can get."

  "Cops after you?"

  "No, but somebody is. Don't be surprised at anything that happens, nomatter what it is."

  "You mean like getting shot at?" he asked worriedly, slowing down.

  "You're not in any danger, friend. I am. Relax and step on it again."

  I wondered if she could still reach me, this far from the bank, andhanded the guy the bill. No justice sticking him for the ride in caseshe should. He pushed the pedal down even harder than he had beendoing before.

  We must have been close to three miles away when I blinked and wasstanding outside the first bank I'd seen in 1931.

  I don't know what the cab driver thought when I vanished out of hishack. He probably figured I'd opened the door and jumped while hewasn't looking. Maybe he even went back and searched for a bodysplashed all over the street.

  Well, it would have been a hopeless hunt. I was a week ahead.

  I gave up and drearily made my deposit. The one from early Octoberthat I'd missed I put in with this one.

  There was no way to escape the babe with the beautiful hard face,gorgeous warm body and plans for me that all seemed to add up todeath. I didn't try any more. I went on making deposits, mailingorders to her stock brokers, and putting down bets that couldn't missbecause they were all past history.

  I don't even remember what the last one was, a fight or a race. I hungaround the bar that had long ago replaced the speakeasy, until theinevitable payoff, got myself a hamburger and headed out the door. Allthe envelopes I was supposed to use were gone and I felt shaky,knowing that the next place I'd see was the room with the wire meshcage and the hooded motors.

  It was.

  * * * * *

  She was on the other side of the cage, and I had five bankbooks andenvelopes filled with cash amounting to more than $15,000, but all Icould think of was that I was hungry and something had happened to thehamburger while I was traveling through time. I must have fallen anddropped it, because my hand was covered with dust or dirt. I brushedit off and quickly felt my face and pulled up my sleeves to look at myarms.

  "Very smart," I said, "but I'm nowhere near emaciation."

  "What made you think you would be?" she asked.

  "Because the others always were."

  She cut the motors to idling speed and the vibrating mesh slowed down.I glared at her through it. God, she was lovely--as lovely as an icesculpture! The kind of face you'd love to kiss and slap, kiss andslap....

  "You came here with a preconceived notion, Mr. Weldon. I'm abusinesswoman, not a monster. I like to think there's even a good dealof the altruist in me. I could hire only young people, but the oldones have more trouble finding work. And you've seen for yourself howI provide nest eggs for them they'd otherwise never have."

  "And take care of yourself at the same time."

  "That's the businesswoman in me. I need money to operate."

  "So do the old people. Only they die and you don't."

  She opened the gate and invited me out. "I make mistakes occasionally.I sometimes pick men and women who prove to be too old to stand thestrain. I try not to let it happen, but they need money and work sobadly that they don't always tell the truth about their age and stateof health."

  "You could take those who have social security cards and references."

  "But those who don't have any are in worse need!" She paused. "Youprobably think I want only the money you and they bring back, thatit's merely some sort of profit-making scheme. It isn't."

  "You mean the idea is not just to build up a fortune for you with acut for whoever helps you do it?"

  "I said I need money to operate, Mr. Weldon, and this method serves.But there are other purposes, much more important. What you have gonethrough is--basic training, you might say. You know now that it'spossible to travel through time, and what it's like. The initialshock, in other words, is gone and you're better equipped to dosomething for me in another era."

  "Something else?" I stared at her puzzledly. "What else could youwant?"

  "Let's have dinner first. You must be hungry."

  * * * * *

  I was, and that reminded me: "I bought a hamburger just before youbrought me back. I don't know what happened to it. My hand was dirtyand the hamburger was gone, as if I'd fallen somehow and dropped itand got dirt on my hand."

  She looked worriedly at the hand, probably afraid I'd cut it anddisqualified myself. I could understand that; you never know what kindof diseases can be picked up in different times, because I rememberreading somewhere that germs keep changing according to conditions.Right now, for instance, strains of bacteria are becoming resistant toantibiotics. I knew her concern wasn't really for me, but it waspleasant all the same.

  "That could be the explanation, I suppose," she said. "The truth isthat I've never taken a time voyage--somebody has to operate thecontrols in the present--so I can't say it's possible or impossible tofall. It must be, since you did. Perhaps the wrench back from thepast was too violent and you slipped just before you returned."

  She led me down to an ornate dining room, where the table had been setfor two. The food was waiting on the table, steaming and smellingtasty. Nobody was around to serve us. She pointed out a chair to meand we sat down and began eating. I was a little nervous at first,afraid there might be something in the food, but it tasted fine andnothing happened after I swallowed a little and waited for someeffect.

  "You did try to escape the time tractor beam, didn't you, Mr. Weldon?"she asked. I didn't have to answer; she knew. "That's a mistakennotion of how it functions. The control beam doesn't cover _area_; itcovers _era_. You could have flown to any part of the world and thebeam would still have brought you back. Do I make myself clear?"

  She did. Too bloody clear. I waited for the rest.

  "I assume you've already formed an opinion of me," she went on. "Arather unflattering one, I imagine."

  "'Bitch' is the cleanest word I can find. But a clever one. Anybodywho can invent a time machine would have to be a genius."

  "I didn't invent it. My father did--Dr. Anthony Roberts--using thefunds you and others helped me provide him with." Her face grew softand tender. "My father was a wonderful man, a great man, but he wascalled a crackpot. He was kept from teaching or working anywhere. Itwas just as well, I suppose, though he was too hurt to think so; hehad more leisure to develop the time machine. He could have used it toextort repayment from mankind for his humiliation, but he didn't. Heused it to help mankind."

  "Like how?" I goaded.

  "It doesn't matter, Mr. Weldon. You're determined to hate me andconsider me a liar. Nothing I tell you can change that."

  * * * * *

  She was right about the first part--I hadn't dared let myself doanything except hate and fear her--but she was wrong about the second.I remembered thinking how Lou Pape would have felt if I had died ofstarvation with over $15,000, after borrowing from him all the timebetween jobs. Not knowing how I got it, he'd have been sore, thinkingI'd played him for a patsy. What I'm trying to say is that Louwouldn't have had enough information to judge me. I didn't have enoughinformation yet, either, to judge her.

  "What do you want me to do?" I asked warily.

  "Everybody but one person was sent into the past on specificerrands--to save art treasures and relics that would otherwise havebeen lost to humanity."

  "Not because the things might be worth a lot of dough?" I saidnastily.

  "You've already seen that I can get all the money I want. There wereupheavals in the past--great fires, wars, revolutions, vandalism--andI had my associates save things that would have been destroyed. Oh,beautiful things, Mr. Weldon! The w
orld would have been so much poorerwithout them!"

  "El Greco, for instance?" I asked, remembering the raving old man whohad been found wandering with $17,000 in his coat lining.

  "El Greco, too. Several paintings that had been lost for centuries."She became more brisk and efficient-seeming. "Except for the one man Imentioned, I concentrated on the past--the future is too completelyunknown to us. And there's an additional reason why I tentativelyexplored it only once. But the one person who went there discoveredsomething that would be of immense value to the world."

  "What happened to _him_?"

  She looked regretful. "He was too old. He survived just long enough totell me that the future has something we need. It's a metal box,small enough to carry, that could supply this whole city with power torun its industries and light its homes and streets!"

  "Sounds good. Who'd you say benefits if I get it?"

  "We share the profits equally, of course. But it must be understoodthat we sell the power so cheaply that everybody can afford it."

  "I'm not arguing. What's the other reason you didn't bother with thefuture?"

  "You can't bring anything from the future to the present that doesn'texist right now. I won't go into the theory, but it should be obviousthat nothing can exist before it exists. You can't bring the box Iwant, only the technical data to build one."

  "Technical data? I'm an actor, not a scientist."

  "You'll have pens and weatherproof notebooks to copy it down in."

  * * * * *

  I couldn't make up my mind about her. I've already said she wasbeautiful, which always prejudices a man in a woman's favor, but Icouldn't forget the starvation cases. They hadn't shared anything butmalnutrition, useless money and death. Then again, maybe herexplanation was a good one, that she wanted to help those who neededhelp most and some of them lied about their age and physical conditionbecause they wanted the jobs so badly. All I knew about were those whohad died. How did I know there weren't others--a lot more of them thanthe fatal cases, perhaps--who came through all right and were able toenjoy their little fortunes?

  And there was her story about saving the treasures of the past andwanting to provide power at really low cost. She was right about onething: she didn't need any of that to make money with; her method wasplenty good enough, using the actual records of the past to invest instocks, bet on sports--all sure gambles.

  But those starvation cases....

  "Do I get any guarantees?" I demanded.

  She looked annoyed. "I'll need you for the data. You'll need me toturn it into manufacture. Is that enough of a guarantee?"

  "No. Do I come out of this alive?"

  "Mr. Weldon, please use some logic. I'm the one who's taking the risk.I've already given you more money than you've ever had at one time inyour life. Part of my motive was to pay for services about to berendered. Mostly, it was to give you experience in traveling throughtime."

  "And to prove to me that I can't run out," I added.

  "That happens to be a necessary attribute of the machine. I couldn'tvery well move you about through time unless it worked that way. Ifyou'd look at my point of view, you'd see that I lose my investment ifyou don't bring back the data. I can't withdraw your money, yourealize."

  "I don't know what to think," I said, dissatisfied with myself becauseI couldn't find out what, if anything, was wrong with the deal. "I'llget you the data for the power box if it's at all possible and thenwe'll see what happens."

  Finished eating, we went upstairs and I got into the cage.

  She closed the circuit. The motors screamed. The mesh blurred.

  And I was in a world I never knew.

  * * * * *

  You'd call it a city, I suppose; there were enough buildings to makeit one. But no city ever had so much greenery. It wasn't justtree-lined streets, like Unter den Linden in Berlin, or islandscovered with shrubbery, like Park Avenue in New York. The grass andtrees and shrubs grew around every building, separating them from eachother by wide lawns. The buildings were more glass--or what lookedlike glass--than anything else. A few of the windows were opaqueagainst the sun, but I couldn't see any shades or blinds. Some kind ofpolarizing glass or plastic?

  I felt uneasy being there, but it was a thrill just the same, to bealive in the future when I and everybody who lived in my day wassupposed to be dead.

  The air smelled like the country. There was no foul gas boiling fromthe teardrop cars on the glass-level road. They were made oftransparent plastic clear around and from top to bottom, and theymoved along at a fair clip, but more smoothly than swiftly. If Ihadn't seen the airship overhead, I wouldn't have known it was there.It flew silently, a graceful ball without wings, seeming to be borneby the wind from one horizon to the other, except that no wind evermoved that fast.

  One car stopped nearby and someone shouted, "Here we are!" Severalpeople leaped out and headed for me.

  I didn't think. I ran. I crossed the lawn and ducked into the nearestbuilding and dodged through long, smoothly walled, shadowlessly litcorridors until I found a door that would open. I slammed it shut andlocked it. Then, panting, I fell into a soft chair that seemed toform itself around my body, and felt like kicking myself for thebloody idiot I was.

  What in hell had I run for? They couldn't have known who I was. If I'darrived in a time when people wore togas or bathing suits, there wouldhave been some reason for singling me out, but they had all hadclothes just like ours--suits and shirts and ties for the men, a dressand high heels for the one woman with them. I felt somewhatdisappointed that clothes hadn't changed any, but it worked out to myadvantage; I wouldn't be so conspicuous.

  Yet why should anyone have yelled "Here we are!" unless.... No, theymust have thought I was somebody else. It didn't figure any other way.I had run because it was my first startled reaction and probablybecause I knew I was there on what might be considered illegalbusiness; if I succeeded, some poor inventor would be done out of hisroyalties.

  I wished I hadn't run. Besides making me feel like a scared fool, Iwas sweaty and out of breath. Playing old men doesn't make climbingdown fire escapes much tougher than it should be, but it doesn'texactly make a sprinter out of you--not by several lungfuls.

  * * * * *

  I sat there, breathing hard and trying to guess what next. I had nomore idea of where to go for what I wanted than an ancient Egyptianset down in the middle of Times Square with instructions to sneak amummy out of the Metropolitan Museum. I didn't even have that muchinformation. I didn't know any part of the city, how it was laid out,or where to get the data that May Roberts had sent me for.

  I opened the door quietly and looked both ways before going out. Afterlosing myself in the cross-connecting corridors a few times, I finallycame to an outside door. I stopped, tense, trying to get my courage.My inclination was to slip, sneak or dart out, but I made myself walkaway like a decent, innocent citizen. That was one disguise they'dnever be able to crack. All I had to do was act as if I belonged tothat time and place and who would know the difference?

  There were other people walking as if they were in no hurry to getanywhere. I slowed down to their speed, but I wished wistfully thatthere was a crowd to dive into and get lost.

  A man dropped into step and said politely, "I beg your pardon. Are youa stranger in town?"

  I almost halted in alarm, but that might have been a giveaway. "Whatmakes you think so?" I asked, forcing myself to keep at the same easypace.

  "I--didn't recognize your face and I thought--"

  "It's a big city," I said coldly. "You can't know everyone."

  "If there's anything I can do to help--"

  I told him there wasn't and left him standing there. It was plaincommon sense, I had decided quickly while he was talking to me, not totake any risks by admitting anything. I might have been dumped into apolice state or the country could have been at war without my knowingit, or maybe they were sus
picious of strangers. For one reason oranother, ranging from vagrancy to espionage, I could be pulled in,tortured, executed, God knows what. The place looked peaceful enough,but that didn't prove a thing.

  I went on walking, looking for something I couldn't be sure existed,in a city I was completely unfamiliar with, in a time when I had noright to be alive. It wasn't just a matter of getting the informationshe wanted. I'd have been satisfied to hang around until she pulled meback without the data....

  But then what would happen? Maybe the starvation cases were people whohad failed her! For that matter, she could shoot me and send theremains anywhere in time to get rid of the evidence.

  Damn it, I didn't know if she was better or worse than I'd supposed,but I wasn't going to take any chances. I had to bring her what shewanted.

  * * * * *

  There was a sign up ahead. It read: TO SHOPPING CENTER. The arrowpointed along the road. When I came to a fork and wondered which wayto go, there was another sign, then another pointing to still morefarther on.

  I followed them to the middle of the city, a big square with a park inthe center and shops of all kinds rimming it. The only