diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 24149-8.txt | 1353 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 24149-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 25801 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 24149-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 108140 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 24149-h/24149-h.htm | 1478 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 24149-h/images/illus1.jpg | bin | 0 -> 32253 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 24149-h/images/illus2.jpg | bin | 0 -> 29539 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 24149-h/images/illus3.jpg | bin | 0 -> 19400 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 24149.txt | 1353 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 24149.zip | bin | 0 -> 25787 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
12 files changed, 4200 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/24149-8.txt b/24149-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5ff8cde --- /dev/null +++ b/24149-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1353 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ambulance Made Two Trips, by +William Fitzgerald Jenkins + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Ambulance Made Two Trips + +Author: William Fitzgerald Jenkins + +Release Date: January 3, 2008 [EBook #24149] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMBULANCE MADE TWO TRIPS *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Bruce Albrecht, Mary Meehan and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + THE AMBULANCE MADE TWO TRIPS + + By MURRAY LEINSTER + + Illustrated by Scoenherr + +[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Astounding Science +Fiction April 1960. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that +the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] + + + + + _If you should set a thief to catch a thief, what does it take to + stop a racketeer...?_ + + +Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald found a package before his door that +morning, along with the milk. He took it inside and opened it. It was a +remarkably fine meerschaum pipe, such as the sergeant had longed +irrationally to own for many years. There was no message with it, nor +any card. He swore bitterly. + +On his way to Headquarters he stopped in at the orphanage where he +usually left such gifts. On other occasions he had left Scotch, a +fly-rod, sets of very expensive dry-flies, and dozens of pairs of silk +socks. The female head of the orphanage accepted the gift with +gratitude. + +"I don't suppose," said Fitzgerald morbidly, "that any of your kids will +smoke this pipe, but I want to be rid of it and for somebody to know." +He paused. "Are you gettin' many other gifts on this order, from other +cops? Like you used to?" + +The head of the orphanage admitted that the total had dropped off. +Fitzgerald went on his way, brooding. He'd been getting anonymous gifts +like this ever since Big Jake Connors moved into town with bright ideas. +Big Jake denied that he was the generous party. He expressed complete +ignorance. But Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald knew better. The gifts were +having their effect upon the Force. There was a police lieutenant whose +wife had received a mink stole out of thin air and didn't speak to her +husband for ten days when he gave it to the Community Drive. He wouldn't +do a thing like that again! There was another sergeant--not +Fitzgerald--who'd found a set of four new white-walls tires on his +doorstep, and was ostracized by his teen-age offspring when he turned +them into the police Lost and Found. Fitzgerald gave his gifts to an +orphanage, with a fine disregard of their inappropriateness. But he +gloomily suspected that a great many of his friends were weakening. The +presents weren't bribes. Big Jake not only didn't ask acknowledgments of +them, he denied that he was the giver. But inevitably the recipients of +bounty with the morning milk felt less indignation about what Big Jake +was doing and wasn't getting caught at. + +At Headquarters, Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald found a memo. A memo was +routine, but the contents of this one were remarkable. He scowled at it. +He made phone calls, checking up on the more unlikely parts of it. Then +he went to make the regular investigation. + +When he reached his destination he found it an unpretentious frame +building with a sign outside: "Elite Cleaners and Dyers." There were no +plate-glass windows. There was nothing show-off about it. It was just a +medium-sized, modestly up-to-date establishment to which lesser +tailoring shops would send work for wholesale treatment. From some place +in the back, puffs of steam shot out at irregular intervals. Somebody +worked a steampresser on garments of one sort or another. There was a +rumbling hum, as of an oversized washing-machine in operation. All +seemed tranquil. + +The detective went in the door. Inside there was that peculiar, +professional-cleaning-fluid smell, which is not as alarming as gasoline +or carbon tetrachloride, but nevertheless discourages the idea of +striking a match. In the outer office a man wrote placidly on one +blue-paper strip after another. He had an air of pleasant +self-confidence. He glanced up briefly, nodded, wrote on three more +blue-paper strips, and then gathered them all up and put them in a +particular place. He turned to Fitzgerald. + +"Well?" + +Fitzgerald showed his shield. The man behind the counter nodded again. + +"My name's Fitzgerald," grunted the detective. "The boss?" + +"Me," said the man behind the counter. He was cordial. "My name's Brink. +You've got something to talk to me about?" + +"That's the idea," said Fitzgerald. "A coupla questions." + +Brink jerked a thumb toward a door. + +"Come in the other office. Chairs there, and we can sit down. What's the +trouble? A complaint of some kind?" + + * * * * * + +He ushered Fitzgerald in before him. The detective found himself +scowling. He'd have felt better with a different kind of man to ask +questions of. This Brink looked untroubled and confident. It didn't +fit the situation. The inner office looked equally matter-of-fact. +No.... There was the shelf with the usual books of reference on textiles +and such items as a cleaner-and-dyer might need to have on hand. +But there were some others: "_Basic Principles of Psi_", "_Modern +Psychokinetic Theories_." There was a small, mostly-plastic machine on +another shelf. It had no obvious function. It looked as if it had some +unguessable but rarely-used purpose. There was dust on it. + +"What's the complaint?" repeated Brink. "Hm-m-m. A cigar?" + +"No," said Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald. "I'll light my pipe." He did, +extracting tobacco and a pipe that was by no means a meerschaum from his +pocket. He puffed and said: "A guy who works for you caught himself on +fire this mornin'. It happened on a bus. Very peculiar. The guy's name +was Jacaro." + +Brink did not look surprised. + +"What happened?" + +"It's kind of a strange thing," said Fitzgerald. "Accordin' to the +report he's ridin' this bus, readin' his paper, when all of a sudden he +yells an' jumps up. His pants are on fire. He gets 'em off fast and +chucks them out the bus window. He's blistered some but not serious, and +he clams up--but good--when the ambulance doc puts salve on him. He +won't say a word about what happened or how. They hadda call a ambulance +because he couldn't go huntin' a doc with no pants on." + +"But he's not burned badly?" asked Brink. + +"No. Blisters, yes. Scared, yes. And mad as hell. But he'll get along. +It's too bad. We've pinched him three times on suspicion of arson, but +we couldn't make it stick. Something ought to happen to make that guy +stop playin' with matches--only this wasn't matches." + +"I'm glad he's only a little bit scorched," said Brink. He considered. +"Did he say anything about his eyelids twitching this morning? I don't +suppose he would." + +The detective stared. + +"He didn't. Say aren't you curious about how he came to catch on fire? +Or what his pants smelled of that burned so urgent? Or where he expected +burnin' to start instead of his pants?" + +Brink thought it over. Then he shook his head. + +"No. I don't think I'm curious." + +The detective looked at him long and hard. + +"O.K.," he said dourly. "But there's something else. Day before +yesterday there was a car accident opposite here. Remember?" + +"I wasn't here at the time," said Brink. + +"There's a car rolling along the street outside," said the detective. +"There's some hoods in it--guys who do dirty work for Big Jake Connors. +I can't prove a thing, but it looks like they had ideas about this +place. About thirty yards up the street a sawed-off shotgun goes off. +Very peculiar. It sends a load of buckshot through a side window of your +place." + +Brink said with an air of surprise: "Oh! That must have been what broke +the window!" + +"Yeah," said Fitzgerald. "But the interesting thing is that the flash of +the shotgun burned all the hair off the head of the guy that was doin' +the drivin'. It didn't scratch him, just scorched his hair off. It +scared him silly." + +Brink grinned faintly, but he said pleasantly: "Tsk. Tsk. Tsk." + +"He jams down the accelerator and rams a telephone pole," pursued +Fitzgerald. "There's four hoods in that car, remember, and every one of +'em's got a police record you could paper a house with. And they've got +four sawed-off shotguns and a tommy-gun in the back seat. They're all +laid out cold when the cops arrive." + +"I was wondering about the window," said Brink, pensively. + +"It puzzles you, eh?" demanded the detective ironically. "Could you've +figured it out that they were goin' to shoot up your plant to scare the +people who work for you so they'll quit? Did you make a guess they +intended to drive you outta business like they did the guy that had this +place before you?" + +"That's an interesting theory," said Brink encouragingly. + +Detective Fitzgerald nodded. + +"There's one thing more," he said formidably. "You got a delivery truck. +You keep it in a garage back yonder. Yesterday you sent it to a garage +for inspection of brakes an' lights an' such." + +"Yes," said Brink. "I did. It's not back yet. They were busy. They'll +call me when it's ready." + +Fitzgerald snorted. + +"They'll call you when the bomb squad gets through checkin' it! When the +guys at the garage lifted the hood they started runnin'. Then they +hollered copper. There was a bomb in there!" + +Brink seemed to try to look surprised. He only looked interested. + +"Two sticks of dynamite," the detective told him grimly, "wired up to go +off when your driver turned on the ignition. He did but it didn't. But +we got a police force in this town! We know there's racketeerin' bein' +practiced. We know there's crooked stuff goin' on. We even got mighty +good ideas who's doin' it. But we ain't been able to get anything on +anybody. Not yet. Nobody's been willin' to talk, so far. But you--" + +The telephone rang stridently. Brink looked at the instrument and +shrugged. He answered. + +"Hello.... No, Mr. Jacaro isn't in today. He didn't come to work. On the +way downtown his pants caught on fire--" + +Fitzgerald guessed that the voice at the other end of the line said +"_What?_" in, an explosive manner. + +Brink said matter-of-factly: "I said his pants caught on fire. It was +probably something he was bringing here to burn the plant down with--a +fire bomb. I don't think he's to blame that it went off early. He +probably started out with the worst possible intentions, but something +happened...." He listened and said: "But he didn't chicken! He couldn't +come to work and plant a fire bomb to set fire to the place!... I know +it must be upsetting to have things like that automobile accident and my +truck not blowing up and now Jacaro's pants instead of my business going +up in flames. But I told you--" + +He stopped and listened. Once he grinned. + +"Wait!" he said after a moment. He covered the transmitter and turned to +Fitzgerald. "What hospital is Jacaro in?" + +Fitzgerald said sourly: "He wasn't burned bad. Just blistered. They lent +him some pants and he went home cussing." + +"Thanks," said Brink. He uncovered the transmitter. "He went home," he +told the instrument. "You can ask him about it. In a way I'm sure it +wasn't his fault. I'm quite sure his eyelids twitched when he started +out. I think the men who drove the car the other day had twitching +eyelids, too. You should ask--" + +The detective heard muted noises, as it a man shouted into a transmitter +somewhere. + +Brink said briskly: "No, I don't see any reason to change my +mind.... No.... I know it was luck, if you want to put it that way, +but.... No. I wouldn't advise that! Please take my advice about when +your eyelid twitches--" + +Fitzgerald heard the crash of the receiver hung up at some distant +place. Brink rubbed his ear. He turned back. + +"Hm-m-m," he said. "Your pipe's gone out." + +It was. Sergeant Fitzgerald puffed ineffectually. Brink reached out his +finger and tapped the bowl of the detective's pipe. Instantly fragrant +smoke filled the detective's mouth. He sputtered. + +"Now.... where were we?" asked Brink. + +"Who was that?" demanded Fitzgerald ferociously. "That was Big Jake +Connors!" + +"You may be right." Brink told him. "He's never exactly given me his +name. He just calls up every so often and talks nonsense." + +"What sort of nonsense?" + +"He wants to be a partner in this business," said Brink without +emotion. "He's been saying that things will happen to it otherwise. I +don't believe it. Anyhow nothing's happened so far." + + * * * * * + +Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald tried at one and the same time to roar and +to swallow. He accomplished neither. He put his finger in the bowl of +his pipe. He jerked it out, scorched. + +"Look!" he said almost hoarsely, "I was tellin' you when the phone rang! +We got a police force here in town! This's what we've been tryin' to +get! You come along with me to Headquarters an' swear to a complaint--" + +Brink said interestedly: "Why?" + +"That guy Big Jake Connors!" raged the detective. "That's why! Tryin' to +threaten you into givin' him a share in your business! Tryin' to burn it +down or blow it up when you won't! He was just a small-town crook, once. +He went to the big town an' came back with ideas. He's usin' 'em!" + +Brink looked at him expectantly. + +"He started a beer business," said the detective bitterly. "Simultaneous +other beer dealers started havin' trouble. Empty kegs smashed. Trucks +broke down. Drivers in fights. They hadda go outta business!" + +"What did the cops do?" asked Brink. + +"They listened to their wives!" snarled Fitzgerald. "They begun to find +little grabbag packages in the mail an' with the milk. Fancy perfume. +Tricky stockin's. Fancy underwear they shoulda been ashamed for anybody +to know they had it on underneath. The cops weren't bribed, but their +wives liked openin' the door of a mornin' an' findin' charmin' little +surprises." + +"Ah," said Brink. + +"Then there were juke boxes," went on the detective. "He went in that +business--an' trouble started. People'd drive up to a beer joint, go in, +get in a scuffle an'--bingo! The juke box smashed. Always the juke box. +Always a out-of-town customer. Half the juke boxes in town weren't +workin', on an average. But the ones that were workin' were always Big +Jake's. Presently he had the juke-box business to himself." + +Brink nodded, somehow appreciatively. + +"Then it was cabs," said Fitzgerald. "A lot of cops felt bad about that. +But their wives wouldn't be happy if anything happened to dear Mr. Big +Jake who denied that he gave anybody anything, so it was all right to +use that lovely perfume.... Cabs got holes in their radiators. They got +sand in their oil systems. They had blowouts an' leaks in brake-fluid +lines. Cops' wives were afraid Big Jake would get caught. But he didn't. +He started insurin' cabs against that kinda accident. Now every +cab-driver pays protection-money for what they call insurance--or else. +An' cops' wives get up early, bright-eyed, to see what Santa Claus left +with the milk." + +"You seem," said Brink with a grin, "to hint that this Big Jake +is ... well ... dishonest." + +"Dishonest!" Fitzgerald's face was purplish, from many memories of +wrongs. "There was a guy named Burdock who owned this business before +you. Y'know what happened to him?" + +"Yes," said Brink. "He's my brother-in-law. Connors or somebody insisted +on having a share of the business and threatened dreadful things if he +didn't. He didn't. So acid got spilled on clothes. Machinery got +smashed. Once a whole delivery-truck load of clothes disappeared and my +brother-in-law had to pay for any number of suits and dresses. It +got him down. He's recovering from the nervous strain now, and my +sister ... eh, asked me to help out. So I offered to take over. He warned +me I'd have the same trouble." + +"And you've got it!" fumed the detective. "But anyhow you'll make a +complaint. We'll get out some warrants, and we'll have somethin' to go +on--" + +"But nothing's happened to complain about," said Brink, quite +reasonably. "One broken window's not worth a fuss." + +"But somethin's goin' to happen!" insisted the detective. "That guy Big +Jake is poison! He's takin' over the whole town, bit by bit! You've been +lucky so far, but your luck could run out--" + +Brink shook his head. + +"No-o-o," he said matter-of-factly. "I'm grateful to you, Mr. +Fitzgerald, but I have a special kind of luck. I won't tell you about it +because you wouldn't believe but--but I can give you some of it. If you +don't mind, I will." + +He went to the slightly dusty, partly-plastic machine. On its shelf were +some parts of metal, and some of transparent plastic, and some grayish, +granular substance it was hard to identify. There was an elaborate +diagram of something like an electronic circuit inside, but it might +have been a molecular diagram from organic chemistry. Brink made an +adjustment and pressed firmly on a special part of the machine, which +did not yield at all. Then he took a slip of plastic out of a slot in +the bottom. + +"You can call this a good-luck charm," he said pleasantly, "or a +talisman. Actually it's a psionic unit. One like it works very well, for +me. Anyhow there's no harm in it. Just one thing. If your eyelids start +to twitch, you'll be headed for danger or trouble or something +unpleasant. So if they do twitch, stop and be very, very careful. +Please!" + +He handed the bit of plastic to Fitzgerald, who took it without +conscious volition. + +Then Brink said briskly: "If there isn't anything else--" + +"You won't swear out a warrant against Big Jake?" demanded Fitzgerald +bitterly. + +"I haven't any reason to," said Brink amiably. "I'm doing all right. He +hasn't harmed me. I don't think he will." + +"O.K.!" said the detective bitterly. "Have it your way! But he's got it +in for you an' he's goin' to keep tryin' until he gets you! An' whether +you like it or not, you're goin' to have some police protection as soon +as I can set it up." + +He stamped out of the cleaning-and-drying plant. Automatically, he put +the bit of plastic in his pocket. He didn't know why. He got into his +car and drove downtown. As he drove, he looked suspiciously at his pipe. +He fumed. As he fumed, he swore. He did not like mysteries. But there +was no mystery about his dislike for Big Jake Connors. He turned aside +from the direct route to Headquarters to indulge it. He drove to a +hospital where four out-of-town hoods had been carried two days before. +He marched inside and up to a second-floor corridor door with a +uniformed policeman seated outside it. + + * * * * * + +"Hm-m-m. Donnelly," he growled. "How about those guys?" + +"Not so good," said the patrolman. "They're gettin' better." + +"They would," growled Fitzgerald. + +"A lawyer's been to see 'em twice," said the patrolman. "He's comin' +back after lunch." + +"He would," grunted the detective. + +"They want out," said the cop. + +"I'm not surprised," said Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald. + +He went into the sick room. There were four patients in it, none of them +looking exactly like gentle invalids. There were two broken noses of +long-ago dates, three cauliflower ears, and one scar of a kind that is +not the result of playing lawn tennis. Two were visibly bandaged, and +the others adhesive-taped. All of them looked at Fitzgerald without +cordiality. + +"Well, well, well!" he said. "You fellas still here!" There was silence. +"In union there is strength," said Fitzgerald. "As long as you stay in +one room everybody's sure the others haven't started rattin'. Right?" + +One of the four snarled silently at him. + +"It was just a accident," pursued the detective. "You four guys are +ridin' along peaceable, merrily takin' the air, when quite inadvertently +one of you almost blows the head off of another, and he's so astonished +at there bein' a gun in the car that he wrecks it. And when they get you +guys in the hospital there ain't one of you knows anything about four +sawed-off shotguns and a tommy gun in the car with you. Strange! +Strange! Strange!" + +Four faces regarded him with impassive dislike. The bandaged ones were +prettier than the ones that weren't. + +"That tommy gun business," explained Fitzgerald, "is a federal affair. +It's against Fed law to carry 'em around loaded. And your friend Big +Jake hasn't been leavin' presents on the White House steps. Y'know, you +guys could be in trouble!" + +Three pairs of eyes and an odd one--the other was hidden under a +bandage--stared at him stonily. + +"Y'see," explained Fitzgerald again, "Big Jake's slipped up. He hasn't +realized it yet. Its my little secret. A week ago I thought he had me +licked. But somethin' happened, and today I felt like I had to come +around and congratulate you fellas. You got a break! You're gonna have +free board and lodging for years to come! I wanted to be the first to +tell you!" + +He beamed at them and went out. Outside, his expression changed. He said +bitterly to the cop at the door: "I bet they beat this rap!" + +He went downstairs and out of the hospital. He started around the +building to his car. + +His eyelid twitched. It twitched again. It began to quiver and flutter +continuously. Fitzgerald stopped short to rub the offending eye. + +There was a crash. A heavy glass water-pitcher hit the cement walk +immediately before him. It broke into a million pieces. He glared up. +The pitcher would have hit him if it hadn't been for a twitching eyelid +that had brought him to a stop. The window of the room he'd just left +was open, but there was no way to prove that a patient had gotten out of +bed to heave the pitcher. And it had broken into too many pieces to +offer fingerprint evidence. + +"Hah!" said Fitzgerald morosely. "They're plenty confident!" + +He went to Headquarters. There were more memos for his attention. One +was just in. A cab had crossed a sidewalk and crashed into a plate-glass +window. Its hydraulic brakes had failed. The trouble was a clean saw-cut +in a pressure-line. Fitzgerald went to find out about it. The cab driver +bitterly refused to answer any questions. He wouldn't even admit that he +was not insured by Big Jake against such accidents. Fitzgerald stormed. +The owner-driver firmly--and gloomily--refused to answer a question +about whether he'd been threatened if he didn't pay protection money. + +Fitzgerald raged, on the sidewalk beside the cab in the act of being +extracted from the plate-glass window. An open-mouthed bystander +listened admiringly to his language. Then the detective's eyelid +twitched. It twitched again, violently. Something made him look up. An +employee of the plate-glass company--there were rumors that Big Jake was +interesting himself in plate-glass insurance besides cabs--wrenched +loose a certain spot. Fitzgerald grabbed the bystander and leaped. There +was a musical crash behind him. A tall section of the shattered glass +fell exactly where he had been standing. It could have been pure +accident. On the other hand-- + +He couldn't prove anything, but he had a queer feeling as he left the +scene of the crash. Back in his own car he felt chilly. Driving away, +presently, he felt his eyelid tentatively. He wasn't a nervous man. +Ordinarily his eyelids didn't twitch. + + * * * * * + +He went to investigate a second memo. It was a restaurant, and he edged +the police car gingerly into a lane beside the building. In the rear, +the odor of spilled beer filled the air. It would have been attractive +but for an admixture of gasoline fumes and the fact that it was mud. Mud +whose moisture-content is spilled beer has a peculiar smell all its own. + +He got out of his car and gloomily asked the questions the memo called +for. He didn't need to. He could have written down all the answers in +advance. The restaurant now reporting vandalism had found big Jake's +brand of beer unpopular. It had twenty cases of a superior brew brought +in by motor-truck. It was stacked in a small building behind the café. +For one happy evening, the customers chose their own beer. + +Now, next day, there were eighteen cases of smashed beer bottles. The +crime had been committed in the small hours. There were no clues. The +restaurant proprietor unconvincingly declared that he had no idea who'd +caused it. But he'd only notified the police so he could collect +insurance--not from Big Jake. + +With a sort of morbid, frustrated gloom, Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald +made the necessary notes. He put his notebook in his pocket and backed +his car out of the alley. Oddly enough, he thought of a beautifully +carved meerschaum pipe he'd found with the milk that morning. He'd +presented it to an orphanage mainly because, irrationally, he'd have +liked to keep it. There had been other expensive gifts he'd have liked +to keep. Bourbon. A set of expensive dry-flies. An eight-millimeter +movie camera. Scotch. Shiny, smooth silk socks that would have soothed +his weary feet. He'd denied himself these gifts because he believed--he +knew--that they came from Big Jake, who tactfully won friends and +influenced people by making presents and denying it. In business matters +he was stern, because that was the way to collect protection-money. But +he was subtle with cops. He had their wives on his side. + +Sergeant Fitzgerald growled in his throat. He'd always wanted a really +fine meerschaum pipe. He'd had one this morning, and he'd had to get rid +of it because it came from Big Jake. He felt that Big Jake had robbed +him of it. + +He turned the police car and drove back toward the Elite Cleaners and +Dyers establishment. As he drove, he growled. His eyelid had twitched +twice, and each time he'd been heading into danger or trouble. The fact +was dauntingly coincidental with Brink's comment after giving him a +scrap of plastic from the bottom of that crazy machine. These things +were on his mind. He couldn't bring himself to plan to mention them, but +he needed to talk to Brink again. Brink could testify to threats. He +could justify arrests. Sergeant Fitzgerald had a fine conviction that +with a chance to apply pressure, he could make some of Big Jake's hoods +and collectors talk, and so bust things wide open. He only needed +Brink's co-operation. He drove toward the Elite Cleaners and Dyers to +put pressure on Brink toward that happy end. But he brooded over his own +eyebrow-twitchings. + +When the cleaning establishment came into view, there was a car parked +before it. Two men from that car were in the act of entering the Elite +plant through the same door the detective had used earlier. He parked +his car behind the other. Fuming, he crossed the sidewalk and entered +the building. As he entered, he heard a scream from the back. He heard a +crashing sound and more screams. + +He bolted ahead, through the outer office and into the working area he +had not visited before. He burst through swinging doors into a +two-story, machinery-filled cleaning-and-dyeing plant. Tables and +garment racks and five separate people appeared as proper occupants of +the place. But something had happened. There was a flood of +liquid--detergent solution--flowing toward the open back doors of the +big room. It obviously came from a large carboy which had been smashed +as if to draw attention to some urgent matter. + +The people in the room seemed to have frozen at their work, except that +Brink had apparently been interrupted in some supervisory task. He was +not working at any machine to clean, dye, dry, or press clothing. He +looked at the two individuals whom Fitzgerald had seen enter only +fractions of a minute earlier. His jaw clenched, and Fitzgerald was +close enough behind the bottle-breakers to see him take an angry, +purposeful step toward them. Then he checked himself very deliberately, +and put his hands in his pockets, and watched. After an instant he even +grinned at the two figures who had preceded the detective. + +They were an impressive pair. They were dressed in well-pressed garments +of extravagantly fashionable cut. They wore expensive soft hats, tilted +to jaunty angles. Even from the rear, Fitzgerald knew that handkerchiefs +would show tastefully in the breast pockets of their coats. Their shoes +had been polished until they not only shone, but glittered. But by +professional instinct Fitzgerald noted one cauliflower ear, and the +barest fraction of a second later he saw a squat revolver being waved +negligently at the screaming women. + +He reached for his service revolver. And things happened. + + * * * * * + +The situation was crystal-clear. Big Jake Connors was displeased with +Brink. In all the city whose rackets he was developing and +consolidating, Brink was the only man who resisted Big Jake's civic +enterprise--and got away with it! And nobody who runs rackets can permit +resistance. It is contagious. So Big Jake had ordered that Brink be +brought into line or else. The or else alternative had run into snags, +before, but it was being given a big new try. + +There was the shrill high clamor of two women screaming at the tops of +their voices because revolvers were waved at them. One Elite employee, +at the pressing machine, took his foot off the treadle and steam +billowed wildly. Another man, at a giant sheet-iron box which rumbled, +stared with his mouth open and blood draining from his cheeks. Brink, +alone, looked--quite impossibly--amused and satisfied. + +"Get outside!" snarled a voice as Fitzgerald's revolver came out ready +for action. "This joint is finished!" + +The companion of the snarling man rubbed suddenly at his eye. He rubbed +again, as if it twitched violently. But it was, after all, only a +twitching eyelid. He reached negligently down and picked up a wooden +box. By its markings, it was a dozen-bottle box of spot-remover--the +stuff used to get out spots the standard cleaning fluid in the +dry-cleaning machine did not remove. + +The man heaved the box, with the hand with which he had rubbed his +twitching eye. The other man raised a hand--the one not holding a +revolver--to rub at his own eye, which also seemed to twitch agitatedly. + +Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald had his revolver out. He drew in his +breath for a stentorian command for them to drop their weapons. But he +didn't have time to shout. The hurtling small box of spot-remover struck +the large sheet-iron case from which loud rumblings came. It was a +dryer; a device for spinning clothes which were wet with liquid from the +dry-cleaning washer. A perforated drum revolved at high speed within it. +The box of spot-remover hit the door. The door dented in, hit the +high-speed drum inside, and flew frantically out again, free from its +hinges and turning end-for-end as it flew. It slammed into the thrower's +companion, spraining three fingers as it knocked his revolver to the +floor. The weapon slid merrily away to the outer office between +Detective Fitzgerald's feet. + +But this was not all. The dryer-door, having disposed of one threatening +revolver, slammed violently against the wall. The wall was merely a thin +partition, neatly paneled on the office side, but with shelves +containing cleaning-and-dyeing supplies on the other. The impact shook +the partition. Dust fell from the shelves and supplies. The hood who +hadn't lost his gun sneezed so violently that his hat came off. He bent +nearly double, and in the act he jarred the partition again. + +Things fell from it. Many things. A two-gallon jar of extra-special +detergent, used only for laces, conked him and smashed on the floor +before him. It added to the stream of fluid already flowing with +singular directness for the open, double, back-door of the workroom. The +hood staggered, sneezed again, and convulsively pulled the trigger of +his gun. The bullet hit something which was solid heavy metal, +ricocheted, ricocheted again and the second hood howled and leaped +wildly into the air. He came down in the flowing flood of spilled +detergent, flat on his stomach, and with marked forward momentum. He +slid. The floor of the plant had recently been oiled to keep down dust. +The coefficient of friction of a really good detergent on top of +floor-oil is remarkably low,--somewhere around point oh-oh-nine. Hood +number two slid magnificently on his belly on the superb lubrication +afforded by detergent on top of floor-oil. + +The first hood staggered. Something else fell from the shelf. It was a +carton of electric-light bulbs. Despite the protecting carton, they went +off with crackings like gunfire. Technically, they did not explode but +implode, but the hood with the revolver did not notice the difference. +He leaped--and also landed in the middle of the wide streak of +detergent-over-oil which might have been arranged to receive him. + +He remained erect, but he slid slowly along that shining path. His +relatively low speed was not his fault, because he went through all the +motions of frenzied flight. His legs twinkled as he ran. But his feet +slid backward. He moved with a sort of dignified celerity, running fast +enough for ten times the speed, upon a surface which had a frictional +coefficient far below that of the smoothest possible ice. + +Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald gaped, his mouth dropped open and his gun +held laxly in a practically nerveless hand. + +The thing developed splendidly. The prone gunman slid out of the wide +double door, pushing a bow-wave of detergent before him. He slid across +the cement just outside, into the open garage whose delivery-truck was +absent, and slammed with a sort of deliberate violence into a stack of +four cardboard drums of that bone-black which is used to filter +cleaning-fluid so it can be used over again in the dry-cleaning machine. +The garage was used for storage as well as shelter for the +establishment's truck. + +The four drums were not accurately piled. They were three and a half +feet high and two feet in diameter. They toppled sedately, falling with +a fine precision upon the now hatless, running, sliding hood. One of +them burst upon him. A second burst upon the prone man--who had butted +through the cardboard of the bottom one on his arrival. There was a +dense black cloud which filled all the interior of the garage. It was +bone-black, which cannot be told from lamp-black or soot by the +uninitiated. + +From the cloud came a despairing revolver shot. It was pure reflex +action by a man who had been whammed over the head by a +hundred-and-fifty-pound drum of yielding--in fact bursting--material. +There was a metallic clang. Then silence. + +In a very little while the dust-cloud cleared. One figure struggled +insanely. Upon him descended--from an oil drum of cylinder-oil stored +above the rafters--a tranquil, glistening rod of opalescent +cylinder-oil. His last bullet had punctured the drum. Oil turned the +bone-black upon him into a thick, sticky goo which instantly gathered +more bone-black to become thicker, stickier, and gooier. He fought it, +while his unconscious companion lay with his head in a crumpled +cardboard container of more black stuff. + +The despairing, struggling hood managed to get off one more shot, as if +defying even fate and chance. This bullet likewise found a target. It +burst a container of powdered dye-stuff, also stored overhead. The +container practically exploded and its contents descended in a +widespread shower which coated all the interior of the garage with a +lovely layer of bright heliotrope. + +Maybe the struggling hood saw it. If so, it broke him utterly. What had +happened was starkly impossible. The only sane explanation was that he +had died and was in hell. He accepted that explanation and broke into +sobs. + + * * * * * + +Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald had witnessed every instant of the +happening, but he did not believe it. Nevertheless, he said in a strange +voice: "I'll phone for the paddy-wagon. It'll do for a ambulance, in +case of need." + +He put away his unused service revolver. Thinking strange, dizzy +thoughts of twitching eyelids and plastic scraps and starkly incredible +happenings, he managed to call for the police patrol. When he hung up, +he gazed blankly at the wall. He gazed, in fact, at a spot where a +peculiar small machine with no visible function reposed--somewhat +dusty--on a shelf. + +Brink stepped over briskly and closed the door between the scene of +catastrophe and the immaculate shop. Somehow, none of the mess had +spilled back through the doorway. Then he came in, frowning a little. + +"The fight's out of them," he said cheerfully. "One's got a bad cut on +his head. The other's completely unnerved. _Tsk! Tsk!_ I hate to have +such things happen!" + +Sergeant Fitzgerald shook himself, as if trying to come back to a normal +and a reasonable world. + +"Look!" he said in a hoarse voice. "I saw it, an' I still don't believe +it! Things like this don't happen! I thought you might be lucky. It +ain't that. I thought I might be crazy. It ain't that! What has been +goin' on?" + +Brink sat down. His air was one of wry contemplation. + +"I told you I had a special kind of luck you couldn't believe. Did your +eyelids twitch any time today?" + +Fitzgerald swallowed. + +"They did. And I stopped short an' something that should've knocked my +cranium down my windpipe missed me by inches. An' again--But no matter. +Yes." + +"Maybe you can believe it, then," said Brink. "Did you ever hear of a +man named Hieronymus?" + +"No," said Fitzgerald in a numbed voice. "Who's he?" + +"He got a patent once," said Brink, matter-of-factly, "on a machine he +believed detected something he called eloptic radiation. He thought it +was a kind of radiation nobody had noticed before. He was wrong. It +worked by something called psi." + +Sergeant Fitzgerald shook his head. It still needed clearing. + +"Psi still isn't fully understood," explained Brink, "but it will do a +lot of things. For instance, it can change probability as magnetism can +change temperature. You can establish a psi field in a suitable +material, just as you can establish a magnetic field in steel or alnico. +Now, if you spin a copper disk in a magnetic field, you get eddy +currents. Keep it up, and the disk gets hot. If you're obstinate about +it, you can melt the copper. It isn't the magnet, as such, that does the +melting. It's the energy of the spinning disk that is changed into heat. +The magnetic field simply sets up the conditions for the change of +motion into heat. In the same way ... am I boring you?" + +"Confusing me," said Fitzgerald, "maybe. But keep on. Maybe I'll catch a +glimmer presently." + +"In the same way," said Brink, "you can try to perform violent actions +in a strong psi field--a field made especially to act on violence. When +you first try it you get something like eddy currents. Warnings. It can +be arranged that such psi eddy currents make your eyelids twitch. Keep +it up, and probability changes to shift the most-likely consequences of +the violence. This is like a spinning copper disk getting hot. Then, if +you're obstinate about it, you get the equivalent of the copper disk +melting. Probability gets so drastically changed that the violent thing +you're trying to do becomes something that can't happen. Hm-m-m. ... You +can't spin a copper disk in a magnetic field when it melts. You can't +commit a murder in a certain kind of psi field when probability goes +hog-wild. Any other thing can happen to anybody else--to you, for +example--but no violence can happen to the thing or person you're trying +to do something violent to. The psi field has melted down ordinary +probabilities. The violence you intend has become the most improbable of +all conceivable things. You see?" + +"I'm beginnin'," said Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald dizzily, "I'm +beginnin' to get a toehold on what you mean. I'd hate to have to testify +about it in court, but I'm receptive." + +"So my special kind of luck," said Brink, "comes from antiviolence psi +fields, set up in psi units of suitable material. They don't use up +energy any more than a magnet does. But they transfer it, like a magnet +does. My brother-in-law thought he had to lose his business because Big +Jake threatened violent things. I offered to take it over and protect +it--with psi units. So far, I have. When four hoods intended to shoot up +the place and moved to do it, they were warned. Psi 'eddy currents' made +their eyelids twitch. They went ahead. Probability changed. Quite +unlikely things became more likely than not. They were obstinate about +it, and what they intended became perhaps the only thing in the world +that simply couldn't happen. So they crashed into a telephone pole. That +wasn't violence. That was accident." + +The detective blinked, and then nodded, somehow painfully. + +"I see," he said uncertainly. + + * * * * * + +"Somebody set a bomb in my delivery truck," added Brink. "I'm sure his +eyelids twitched, but he didn't stop. So probability changed. The +explosion of that bomb in my truck became the most unlikely of all +possible things. In fact, it became impossible. So some electric +connection went bad, and it didn't go off. Again, when Jacaro intended +to plant a time fire-bomb to set the plant on fire--why--his eyelids +must have twitched but he didn't give up the intention. So the psi unit +naturally made the burning of the plant impossible. For it to be +impossible, the fire-bomb had to go off where it would do next to no +harm. Jacaro lost his pants." + +He stopped. Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald swallowed carefully. + +"I don't question it," he said dizzily, "even if I don't believe it. +Will you now tell me that what just happened was a psi something keepin' +violent things from happening?" + +"That's it," agreed Brink. "The psi unit made the dryer-door fly off and +knock a pistol out of a man's hand. If they'd dropped the idea of +violence, that would have ended the matter. They didn't." + +"I accept it," said Fitzgerald. He gulped. "Because I saw it. A court +wouldn't believe it, though, Mr. Brink!" + +"Well?" + +"I've been tryin' for months," said Fitzgerald in sudden desperation, +"to find a way to stop what Big Jake's doin'. But he's tricky. He's +organized. He's got smart lawyers. Mr. Brink, if the cops could use what +you've got--" Then he stopped. "It'd never be authorized," he said +bitterly. "They'd never let a cop try it." + +"No," agreed Brink. "Until it's believed in it can only be used +privately, for private purposes. Like I've used it. Or Hm-m-m. Do you +fish, or bowl, or play golf, sergeant? I could give you a psi unit +that'd help you quite a bit in such a private purpose." + +Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald shook his head. + +"Dry-fly fishin's my specialty," he said bitterly, "but no thank you! +When I'm pittin' myself against a trout, it's my private purpose to be a +better fisherman than he's a fish. Usin' what you've got would be like +dynamitin' a stream. No sport in that! No! But this Big Jake, he doesn't +act sporting with the public. I'd give a lot to stop him." + +"You'd get no credit for it," said Brink. "No credit at all." + +"I'd get the job done!" said Fitzgerald indignantly. "A man likes +credit, but he likes a lot better to get a good job done!" + +Brink grinned suddenly. + +"Good man!" he said approvingly. "I'll buy your idea, sergeant. If +you'll play fair with a trout, you'll play fair with a crook, and an +Irishman, anyhow, has a sort of inheritance--I'll give you what help I +can, and you'll do things your grandfather would swear was the work of +the Little People. And for a first lesson--" + +"What?" + +"Big Jake discourages me," said Brink. "So I'll call him up and say I'm +coming to see him. I'll say if he wants this business I'll sell it to +him at a fair price. But I'll say otherwise I'll tell the newspapers +about his threats and the four of his hoods in the hospital and the two +others on the way there. Want to come along?" + +Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald reached his hand to where his service +revolver reposed in its holster. Then he drew it away. + +"He's a very violent man," he said hopefully. "I wouldn't wonder he +tried to get pretty rough--him and the characters he has on his payroll. +If they have to be stopped from bein' violent by--what is it? Psi units? +Sure I'll come along! It'd ought to be most edifyin' to watch!" + + * * * * * + +There was a clanging outside. Brink and Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald +delayed while the two unnerved, helpless, and formerly immaculate gunmen +were loaded into the paddy-wagon and carried away--to the hospital that +already held four of their ilk. Then Brink called Big Jake on the +telephone. + +Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald listened with increasing appreciation as +Brink made his proposition and explained matter-of-factly what had +happened to Big Jake's minions who should have wrecked the Elite +Cleaners and Dyers. When Brink hung up, Fitzgerald had a look of zestful +anticipation on his face. + +"He said to come right over," said Brink. "But he was grinding his +teeth." + +"Ah-h-h!" said Fitzgerald pleasurably. "I'm thinkin' of the cab-drivers +an' truck drivers that've been beat up. I'm thinkin' of property smashed +and honest people scared.... Do you know, I'm terrible afraid Big Jake's +too much in the habit of violence to stop, even if his eyelids twitch? +It's deplorable! But on a strictly personal basis I think I'll enjoy +seein' Big Jake an' his hoods discouraged by ... what is it Psi units? +Yes!" + +And he did. Big Jake's eyelids undoubtedly did twitch while he was +preparing a reception for Brink and Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald. But +he did not heed the warning. He did not even think of the legal aspect +of violent things attempted against his visitors. So he tried +violence--he and his associates. They started out with fists and clubs, +regardless of discretion. They tried to beat up Brink and Fitzgerald. +From that they went on to sawed-off shotguns. Their efforts were still +unsuccessful. Then they went to extremes. + +Fitzgerald wore an expression of pious joy as Big Jake Connors and his +aides, obstinately attempting violent actions, were prevented by psi +units. + +When it was all over, the ambulance had to make two trips. + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ambulance Made Two Trips, by +William Fitzgerald Jenkins + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMBULANCE MADE TWO TRIPS *** + +***** This file should be named 24149-8.txt or 24149-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/1/4/24149/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Bruce Albrecht, Mary Meehan and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/24149-8.zip b/24149-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..557463f --- /dev/null +++ b/24149-8.zip diff --git a/24149-h.zip b/24149-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fb0415f --- /dev/null +++ b/24149-h.zip diff --git a/24149-h/24149-h.htm b/24149-h/24149-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c4a0321 --- /dev/null +++ b/24149-h/24149-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1478 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Ambulance Made Two Trips, by Murray Leinster. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ambulance Made Two Trips, by +William Fitzgerald Jenkins + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Ambulance Made Two Trips + +Author: William Fitzgerald Jenkins + +Release Date: January 3, 2008 [EBook #24149] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMBULANCE MADE TWO TRIPS *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Bruce Albrecht, Mary Meehan and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + +<h1>THE AMBULANCE MADE TWO TRIPS</h1> + +<h2>By MURRAY LEINSTER</h2> + +<h3>Illustrated by Scoenherr</h3> + +<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Astounding Science +Fiction April 1960. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that +the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/illus1.jpg"><img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt=""/></a> +</div> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>If you should set a thief to catch a thief, what does it take to +stop a racketeer...?</i></p></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + + +<p>Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald found a package before his door that +morning, along with the milk. He took it inside and opened it. It was a +remarkably fine meerschaum pipe, such as the sergeant had longed +irrationally to own for many years. There was no message with it, nor +any card. He swore bitterly.</p> + +<p>On his way to Headquarters he stopped in at the orphanage where he +usually left such gifts. On other occasions he had left Scotch, a +fly-rod, sets of very expensive dry-flies, and dozens of pairs of silk +socks. The female head of the orphanage accepted the gift with +gratitude.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose," said Fitzgerald morbidly, "that any of your kids will +smoke this pipe, but I want to be rid of it and for somebody to know." +He paused. "Are you gettin' many other gifts on this order, from other +cops? Like you used to?"</p> + +<p>The head of the orphanage admitted that the total had dropped off. +Fitzgerald went on his way, brooding. He'd been getting anonymous gifts +like this ever since Big Jake Connors moved into town with bright ideas. +Big Jake denied that he was the generous party. He expressed complete +ignorance. But Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald knew better. The gifts were +having their effect upon the Force. There was a police lieutenant whose +wife had received a mink stole out of thin air and didn't speak to her +husband for ten days when he gave it to the Community Drive. He wouldn't +do a thing like that again! There was another sergeant—not +Fitzgerald—who'd found a set of four new white-walls tires on his +doorstep, and was ostracized by his teen-age offspring when he turned +them into the police Lost and Found. Fitzgerald gave his gifts to an +orphanage, with a fine disregard of their inappropriateness. But he +gloomily suspected that a great many of his friends were weakening. The +presents weren't bribes. Big Jake not only didn't ask acknowledgments of +them, he denied that he was the giver. But inevitably the recipients of +bounty with the morning milk felt less indignation about what Big Jake +was doing and wasn't getting caught at.</p> + +<p>At Headquarters, Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald found a memo. A memo was +routine, but the contents of this one were remarkable. He scowled at it. +He made phone calls, checking up on the more unlikely parts of it. Then +he went to make the regular investigation.</p> + +<p>When he reached his destination he found it an unpretentious frame +building with a sign outside: "Elite Cleaners and Dyers." There were no +plate-glass windows. There was nothing show-off about it. It was just a +medium-sized, modestly up-to-date establishment to which lesser +tailoring shops would send work for wholesale treatment. From some place +in the back, puffs of steam shot out at irregular intervals. Somebody +worked a steampresser on garments of one sort or another. There was a +rumbling hum, as of an oversized washing-machine in operation. All +seemed tranquil.</p> + +<p>The detective went in the door. Inside there was that peculiar, +professional-cleaning-fluid smell, which is not as alarming as gasoline +or carbon tetrachloride, but nevertheless discourages the idea of +striking a match. In the outer office a man wrote placidly on one +blue-paper strip after another. He had an air of pleasant +self-confidence. He glanced up briefly, nodded, wrote on three more +blue-paper strips, and then gathered them all up and put them in a +particular place. He turned to Fitzgerald.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>Fitzgerald showed his shield. The man behind the counter nodded again.</p> + +<p>"My name's Fitzgerald," grunted the detective. "The boss?"</p> + +<p>"Me," said the man behind the counter. He was cordial. "My name's Brink. +You've got something to talk to me about?"</p> + +<p>"That's the idea," said Fitzgerald. "A coupla questions."</p> + +<p>Brink jerked a thumb toward a door.</p> + +<p>"Come in the other office. Chairs there, and we can sit down. What's the +trouble? A complaint of some kind?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>He ushered Fitzgerald in before him. The detective found himself +scowling. He'd have felt better with a different kind of man to ask +questions of. This Brink looked untroubled and confident. It didn't +fit the situation. The inner office looked equally matter-of-fact. +No.... There was the shelf with the usual books of reference on textiles +and such items as a cleaner-and-dyer might need to have on hand. +But there were some others: "<i>Basic Principles of Psi</i>", "<i>Modern +Psychokinetic Theories</i>." There was a small, mostly-plastic machine on +another shelf. It had no obvious function. It looked as if it had some +unguessable but rarely-used purpose. There was dust on it.</p> + +<p>"What's the complaint?" repeated Brink. "Hm-m-m. A cigar?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald. "I'll light my pipe." He did, +extracting tobacco and a pipe that was by no means a meerschaum from his +pocket. He puffed and said: "A guy who works for you caught himself on +fire this mornin'. It happened on a bus. Very peculiar. The guy's name +was Jacaro."</p> + +<p>Brink did not look surprised.</p> + +<p>"What happened?"</p> + +<p>"It's kind of a strange thing," said Fitzgerald. "Accordin' to the +report he's ridin' this bus, readin' his paper, when all of a sudden he +yells an' jumps up. His pants are on fire. He gets 'em off fast and +chucks them out the bus window. He's blistered some but not serious, and +he clams up—but good—when the ambulance doc puts salve on him. He +won't say a word about what happened or how. They hadda call a ambulance +because he couldn't go huntin' a doc with no pants on."</p> + +<p>"But he's not burned badly?" asked Brink.</p> + +<p>"No. Blisters, yes. Scared, yes. And mad as hell. But he'll get along. +It's too bad. We've pinched him three times on suspicion of arson, but +we couldn't make it stick. Something ought to happen to make that guy +stop playin' with matches—only this wasn't matches."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad he's only a little bit scorched," said Brink. He considered. +"Did he say anything about his eyelids twitching this morning? I don't +suppose he would."</p> + +<p>The detective stared.</p> + +<p>"He didn't. Say aren't you curious about how he came to catch on fire? +Or what his pants smelled of that burned so urgent? Or where he expected +burnin' to start instead of his pants?"</p> + +<p>Brink thought it over. Then he shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No. I don't think I'm curious."</p> + +<p>The detective looked at him long and hard.</p> + +<p>"O.K.," he said dourly. "But there's something else. Day before +yesterday there was a car accident opposite here. Remember?"</p> + +<p>"I wasn't here at the time," said Brink.</p> + +<p>"There's a car rolling along the street outside," said the detective. +"There's some hoods in it—guys who do dirty work for Big Jake Connors. +I can't prove a thing, but it looks like they had ideas about this +place. About thirty yards up the street a sawed-off shotgun goes off. +Very peculiar. It sends a load of buckshot through a side window of your +place."</p> + +<p>Brink said with an air of surprise: "Oh! That must have been what broke +the window!"</p> + +<p>"Yeah," said Fitzgerald. "But the interesting thing is that the flash of +the shotgun burned all the hair off the head of the guy that was doin' +the drivin'. It didn't scratch him, just scorched his hair off. It +scared him silly."</p> + +<p>Brink grinned faintly, but he said pleasantly: "Tsk. Tsk. Tsk."</p> + +<p>"He jams down the accelerator and rams a telephone pole," pursued +Fitzgerald. "There's four hoods in that car, remember, and every one of +'em's got a police record you could paper a house with. And they've got +four sawed-off shotguns and a tommy-gun in the back seat. They're all +laid out cold when the cops arrive."</p> + +<p>"I was wondering about the window," said Brink, pensively.</p> + +<p>"It puzzles you, eh?" demanded the detective ironically. "Could you've +figured it out that they were goin' to shoot up your plant to scare the +people who work for you so they'll quit? Did you make a guess they +intended to drive you outta business like they did the guy that had this +place before you?"</p> + +<p>"That's an interesting theory," said Brink encouragingly.</p> + +<p>Detective Fitzgerald nodded.</p> + +<p>"There's one thing more," he said formidably. "You got a delivery truck. +You keep it in a garage back yonder. Yesterday you sent it to a garage +for inspection of brakes an' lights an' such."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Brink. "I did. It's not back yet. They were busy. They'll +call me when it's ready."</p> + +<p>Fitzgerald snorted.</p> + +<p>"They'll call you when the bomb squad gets through checkin' it! When the +guys at the garage lifted the hood they started runnin'. Then they +hollered copper. There was a bomb in there!"</p> + +<p>Brink seemed to try to look surprised. He only looked interested.</p> + +<p>"Two sticks of dynamite," the detective told him grimly, "wired up to go +off when your driver turned on the ignition. He did but it didn't. But +we got a police force in this town! We know there's racketeerin' bein' +practiced. We know there's crooked stuff goin' on. We even got mighty +good ideas who's doin' it. But we ain't been able to get anything on +anybody. Not yet. Nobody's been willin' to talk, so far. But you—"</p> + +<p>The telephone rang stridently. Brink looked at the instrument and +shrugged. He answered.</p> + +<p>"Hello.... No, Mr. Jacaro isn't in today. He didn't come to work. On the +way downtown his pants caught on fire—"</p> + +<p>Fitzgerald guessed that the voice at the other end of the line said +"<i>What?</i>" in, an explosive manner.</p> + +<p>Brink said matter-of-factly: "I said his pants caught on fire. It was +probably something he was bringing here to burn the plant down with—a +fire bomb. I don't think he's to blame that it went off early. He +probably started out with the worst possible intentions, but something +happened...." He listened and said: "But he didn't chicken! He couldn't +come to work and plant a fire bomb to set fire to the place!... I know +it must be upsetting to have things like that automobile accident and my +truck not blowing up and now Jacaro's pants instead of my business going +up in flames. But I told you—"</p> + +<p>He stopped and listened. Once he grinned.</p> + +<p>"Wait!" he said after a moment. He covered the transmitter and turned to +Fitzgerald. "What hospital is Jacaro in?"</p> + +<p>Fitzgerald said sourly: "He wasn't burned bad. Just blistered. They lent +him some pants and he went home cussing."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," said Brink. He uncovered the transmitter. "He went home," he +told the instrument. "You can ask him about it. In a way I'm sure it +wasn't his fault. I'm quite sure his eyelids twitched when he started +out. I think the men who drove the car the other day had twitching +eyelids, too. You should ask—"</p> + +<p>The detective heard muted noises, as it a man shouted into a transmitter +somewhere.</p> + +<p>Brink said briskly: "No, I don't see any reason to change my +mind.... No.... I know it was luck, if you want to put it that way, +but.... No. I wouldn't advise that! Please take my advice about when +your eyelid twitches—"</p> + +<p>Fitzgerald heard the crash of the receiver hung up at some distant +place. Brink rubbed his ear. He turned back.</p> + +<p>"Hm-m-m," he said. "Your pipe's gone out."</p> + +<p>It was. Sergeant Fitzgerald puffed ineffectually. Brink reached out his +finger and tapped the bowl of the detective's pipe. Instantly fragrant +smoke filled the detective's mouth. He sputtered.</p> + +<p>"Now.... where were we?" asked Brink.</p> + +<p>"Who was that?" demanded Fitzgerald ferociously. "That was Big Jake +Connors!"</p> + +<p>"You may be right." Brink told him. "He's never exactly given me his +name. He just calls up every so often and talks nonsense."</p> + +<p>"What sort of nonsense?"</p> + +<p>"He wants to be a partner in this business," said Brink without +emotion. "He's been saying that things will happen to it otherwise. I +don't believe it. Anyhow nothing's happened so far."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald tried at one and the same time to roar and +to swallow. He accomplished neither. He put his finger in the bowl of +his pipe. He jerked it out, scorched.</p> + +<p>"Look!" he said almost hoarsely, "I was tellin' you when the phone rang! +We got a police force here in town! This's what we've been tryin' to +get! You come along with me to Headquarters an' swear to a complaint—"</p> + +<p>Brink said interestedly: "Why?"</p> + +<p>"That guy Big Jake Connors!" raged the detective. "That's why! Tryin' to +threaten you into givin' him a share in your business! Tryin' to burn it +down or blow it up when you won't! He was just a small-town crook, once. +He went to the big town an' came back with ideas. He's usin' 'em!"</p> + +<p>Brink looked at him expectantly.</p> + +<p>"He started a beer business," said the detective bitterly. "Simultaneous +other beer dealers started havin' trouble. Empty kegs smashed. Trucks +broke down. Drivers in fights. They hadda go outta business!"</p> + +<p>"What did the cops do?" asked Brink.</p> + +<p>"They listened to their wives!" snarled Fitzgerald. "They begun to find +little grabbag packages in the mail an' with the milk. Fancy perfume. +Tricky stockin's. Fancy underwear they shoulda been ashamed for anybody +to know they had it on underneath. The cops weren't bribed, but their +wives liked openin' the door of a mornin' an' findin' charmin' little +surprises."</p> + +<p>"Ah," said Brink.</p> + +<p>"Then there were juke boxes," went on the detective. "He went in that +business—an' trouble started. People'd drive up to a beer joint, go in, +get in a scuffle an'—bingo! The juke box smashed. Always the juke box. +Always a out-of-town customer. Half the juke boxes in town weren't +workin', on an average. But the ones that were workin' were always Big +Jake's. Presently he had the juke-box business to himself."</p> + +<p>Brink nodded, somehow appreciatively.</p> + +<p>"Then it was cabs," said Fitzgerald. "A lot of cops felt bad about that. +But their wives wouldn't be happy if anything happened to dear Mr. Big +Jake who denied that he gave anybody anything, so it was all right to +use that lovely perfume.... Cabs got holes in their radiators. They got +sand in their oil systems. They had blowouts an' leaks in brake-fluid +lines. Cops' wives were afraid Big Jake would get caught. But he didn't. +He started insurin' cabs against that kinda accident. Now every +cab-driver pays protection-money for what they call insurance—or else. +An' cops' wives get up early, bright-eyed, to see what Santa Claus left +with the milk."</p> + +<p>"You seem," said Brink with a grin, "to hint that this Big Jake +is ... well ... dishonest."</p> + +<p>"Dishonest!" Fitzgerald's face was purplish, from many memories of +wrongs. "There was a guy named Burdock who owned this business before +you. Y'know what happened to him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Brink. "He's my brother-in-law. Connors or somebody insisted +on having a share of the business and threatened dreadful things if he +didn't. He didn't. So acid got spilled on clothes. Machinery got +smashed. Once a whole delivery-truck load of clothes disappeared and my +brother-in-law had to pay for any number of suits and dresses. It +got him down. He's recovering from the nervous strain now, and my +sister ... eh, asked me to help out. So I offered to take over. He warned +me I'd have the same trouble."</p> + +<p>"And you've got it!" fumed the detective. "But anyhow you'll make a +complaint. We'll get out some warrants, and we'll have somethin' to go +on—"</p> + +<p>"But nothing's happened to complain about," said Brink, quite +reasonably. "One broken window's not worth a fuss."</p> + +<p>"But somethin's goin' to happen!" insisted the detective. "That guy Big +Jake is poison! He's takin' over the whole town, bit by bit! You've been +lucky so far, but your luck could run out—"</p> + +<p>Brink shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No-o-o," he said matter-of-factly. "I'm grateful to you, Mr. +Fitzgerald, but I have a special kind of luck. I won't tell you about it +because you wouldn't believe but—but I can give you some of it. If you +don't mind, I will."</p> + +<p>He went to the slightly dusty, partly-plastic machine. On its shelf were +some parts of metal, and some of transparent plastic, and some grayish, +granular substance it was hard to identify. There was an elaborate +diagram of something like an electronic circuit inside, but it might +have been a molecular diagram from organic chemistry. Brink made an +adjustment and pressed firmly on a special part of the machine, which +did not yield at all. Then he took a slip of plastic out of a slot in +the bottom.</p> + +<p>"You can call this a good-luck charm," he said pleasantly, "or a +talisman. Actually it's a psionic unit. One like it works very well, for +me. Anyhow there's no harm in it. Just one thing. If your eyelids start +to twitch, you'll be headed for danger or trouble or something +unpleasant. So if they do twitch, stop and be very, very careful. +Please!"</p> + +<p>He handed the bit of plastic to Fitzgerald, who took it without +conscious volition.</p> + +<p>Then Brink said briskly: "If there isn't anything else—"</p> + +<p>"You won't swear out a warrant against Big Jake?" demanded Fitzgerald +bitterly.</p> + +<p>"I haven't any reason to," said Brink amiably. "I'm doing all right. He +hasn't harmed me. I don't think he will."</p> + +<p>"O.K.!" said the detective bitterly. "Have it your way! But he's got it +in for you an' he's goin' to keep tryin' until he gets you! An' whether +you like it or not, you're goin' to have some police protection as soon +as I can set it up."</p> + +<p>He stamped out of the cleaning-and-drying plant. Automatically, he put +the bit of plastic in his pocket. He didn't know why. He got into his +car and drove downtown. As he drove, he looked suspiciously at his pipe. +He fumed. As he fumed, he swore. He did not like mysteries. But there +was no mystery about his dislike for Big Jake Connors. He turned aside +from the direct route to Headquarters to indulge it. He drove to a +hospital where four out-of-town hoods had been carried two days before. +He marched inside and up to a second-floor corridor door with a +uniformed policeman seated outside it.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Hm-m-m. Donnelly," he growled. "How about those guys?"</p> + +<p>"Not so good," said the patrolman. "They're gettin' better."</p> + +<p>"They would," growled Fitzgerald.</p> + +<p>"A lawyer's been to see 'em twice," said the patrolman. "He's comin' +back after lunch."</p> + +<p>"He would," grunted the detective.</p> + +<p>"They want out," said the cop.</p> + +<p>"I'm not surprised," said Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald.</p> + +<p>He went into the sick room. There were four patients in it, none of them +looking exactly like gentle invalids. There were two broken noses of +long-ago dates, three cauliflower ears, and one scar of a kind that is +not the result of playing lawn tennis. Two were visibly bandaged, and +the others adhesive-taped. All of them looked at Fitzgerald without +cordiality.</p> + +<p>"Well, well, well!" he said. "You fellas still here!" There was silence. +"In union there is strength," said Fitzgerald. "As long as you stay in +one room everybody's sure the others haven't started rattin'. Right?"</p> + +<p>One of the four snarled silently at him.</p> + +<p>"It was just a accident," pursued the detective. "You four guys are +ridin' along peaceable, merrily takin' the air, when quite inadvertently +one of you almost blows the head off of another, and he's so astonished +at there bein' a gun in the car that he wrecks it. And when they get you +guys in the hospital there ain't one of you knows anything about four +sawed-off shotguns and a tommy gun in the car with you. Strange! +Strange! Strange!"</p> + +<p>Four faces regarded him with impassive dislike. The bandaged ones were +prettier than the ones that weren't.</p> + +<p>"That tommy gun business," explained Fitzgerald, "is a federal affair. +It's against Fed law to carry 'em around loaded. And your friend Big +Jake hasn't been leavin' presents on the White House steps. Y'know, you +guys could be in trouble!"</p> + +<p>Three pairs of eyes and an odd one—the other was hidden under a +bandage—stared at him stonily.</p> + +<p>"Y'see," explained Fitzgerald again, "Big Jake's slipped up. He hasn't +realized it yet. Its my little secret. A week ago I thought he had me +licked. But somethin' happened, and today I felt like I had to come +around and congratulate you fellas. You got a break! You're gonna have +free board and lodging for years to come! I wanted to be the first to +tell you!"</p> + +<p>He beamed at them and went out. Outside, his expression changed. He said +bitterly to the cop at the door: "I bet they beat this rap!"</p> + +<p>He went downstairs and out of the hospital. He started around the +building to his car.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/illus2.jpg"><img src="images/illus2.jpg" alt=""/></a> +</div> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>His eyelid twitched. It twitched again. It began to quiver and flutter +continuously. Fitzgerald stopped short to rub the offending eye.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/illus3.jpg"><img src="images/illus3.jpg" alt=""/></a> +</div> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>There was a crash. A heavy glass water-pitcher hit the cement walk +immediately before him. It broke into a million pieces. He glared up. +The pitcher would have hit him if it hadn't been for a twitching eyelid +that had brought him to a stop. The window of the room he'd just left +was open, but there was no way to prove that a patient had gotten out of +bed to heave the pitcher. And it had broken into too many pieces to +offer fingerprint evidence.</p> + +<p>"Hah!" said Fitzgerald morosely. "They're plenty confident!"</p> + +<p>He went to Headquarters. There were more memos for his attention. One +was just in. A cab had crossed a sidewalk and crashed into a plate-glass +window. Its hydraulic brakes had failed. The trouble was a clean saw-cut +in a pressure-line. Fitzgerald went to find out about it. The cab driver +bitterly refused to answer any questions. He wouldn't even admit that he +was not insured by Big Jake against such accidents. Fitzgerald stormed. +The owner-driver firmly—and gloomily—refused to answer a question +about whether he'd been threatened if he didn't pay protection money.</p> + +<p>Fitzgerald raged, on the sidewalk beside the cab in the act of being +extracted from the plate-glass window. An open-mouthed bystander +listened admiringly to his language. Then the detective's eyelid +twitched. It twitched again, violently. Something made him look up. An +employee of the plate-glass company—there were rumors that Big Jake was +interesting himself in plate-glass insurance besides cabs—wrenched +loose a certain spot. Fitzgerald grabbed the bystander and leaped. There +was a musical crash behind him. A tall section of the shattered glass +fell exactly where he had been standing. It could have been pure +accident. On the other hand—</p> + +<p>He couldn't prove anything, but he had a queer feeling as he left the +scene of the crash. Back in his own car he felt chilly. Driving away, +presently, he felt his eyelid tentatively. He wasn't a nervous man. +Ordinarily his eyelids didn't twitch.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>He went to investigate a second memo. It was a restaurant, and he edged +the police car gingerly into a lane beside the building. In the rear, +the odor of spilled beer filled the air. It would have been attractive +but for an admixture of gasoline fumes and the fact that it was mud. Mud +whose moisture-content is spilled beer has a peculiar smell all its own.</p> + +<p>He got out of his car and gloomily asked the questions the memo called +for. He didn't need to. He could have written down all the answers in +advance. The restaurant now reporting vandalism had found big Jake's +brand of beer unpopular. It had twenty cases of a superior brew brought +in by motor-truck. It was stacked in a small building behind the café. +For one happy evening, the customers chose their own beer.</p> + +<p>Now, next day, there were eighteen cases of smashed beer bottles. The +crime had been committed in the small hours. There were no clues. The +restaurant proprietor unconvincingly declared that he had no idea who'd +caused it. But he'd only notified the police so he could collect +insurance—not from Big Jake.</p> + +<p>With a sort of morbid, frustrated gloom, Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald +made the necessary notes. He put his notebook in his pocket and backed +his car out of the alley. Oddly enough, he thought of a beautifully +carved meerschaum pipe he'd found with the milk that morning. He'd +presented it to an orphanage mainly because, irrationally, he'd have +liked to keep it. There had been other expensive gifts he'd have liked +to keep. Bourbon. A set of expensive dry-flies. An eight-millimeter +movie camera. Scotch. Shiny, smooth silk socks that would have soothed +his weary feet. He'd denied himself these gifts because he believed—he +knew—that they came from Big Jake, who tactfully won friends and +influenced people by making presents and denying it. In business matters +he was stern, because that was the way to collect protection-money. But +he was subtle with cops. He had their wives on his side.</p> + +<p>Sergeant Fitzgerald growled in his throat. He'd always wanted a really +fine meerschaum pipe. He'd had one this morning, and he'd had to get rid +of it because it came from Big Jake. He felt that Big Jake had robbed +him of it.</p> + +<p>He turned the police car and drove back toward the Elite Cleaners and +Dyers establishment. As he drove, he growled. His eyelid had twitched +twice, and each time he'd been heading into danger or trouble. The fact +was dauntingly coincidental with Brink's comment after giving him a +scrap of plastic from the bottom of that crazy machine. These things +were on his mind. He couldn't bring himself to plan to mention them, but +he needed to talk to Brink again. Brink could testify to threats. He +could justify arrests. Sergeant Fitzgerald had a fine conviction that +with a chance to apply pressure, he could make some of Big Jake's hoods +and collectors talk, and so bust things wide open. He only needed +Brink's co-operation. He drove toward the Elite Cleaners and Dyers to +put pressure on Brink toward that happy end. But he brooded over his own +eyebrow-twitchings.</p> + +<p>When the cleaning establishment came into view, there was a car parked +before it. Two men from that car were in the act of entering the Elite +plant through the same door the detective had used earlier. He parked +his car behind the other. Fuming, he crossed the sidewalk and entered +the building. As he entered, he heard a scream from the back. He heard a +crashing sound and more screams.</p> + +<p>He bolted ahead, through the outer office and into the working area he +had not visited before. He burst through swinging doors into a +two-story, machinery-filled cleaning-and-dyeing plant. Tables and +garment racks and five separate people appeared as proper occupants of +the place. But something had happened. There was a flood of +liquid—detergent solution—flowing toward the open back doors of the +big room. It obviously came from a large carboy which had been smashed +as if to draw attention to some urgent matter.</p> + +<p>The people in the room seemed to have frozen at their work, except that +Brink had apparently been interrupted in some supervisory task. He was +not working at any machine to clean, dye, dry, or press clothing. He +looked at the two individuals whom Fitzgerald had seen enter only +fractions of a minute earlier. His jaw clenched, and Fitzgerald was +close enough behind the bottle-breakers to see him take an angry, +purposeful step toward them. Then he checked himself very deliberately, +and put his hands in his pockets, and watched. After an instant he even +grinned at the two figures who had preceded the detective.</p> + +<p>They were an impressive pair. They were dressed in well-pressed garments +of extravagantly fashionable cut. They wore expensive soft hats, tilted +to jaunty angles. Even from the rear, Fitzgerald knew that handkerchiefs +would show tastefully in the breast pockets of their coats. Their shoes +had been polished until they not only shone, but glittered. But by +professional instinct Fitzgerald noted one cauliflower ear, and the +barest fraction of a second later he saw a squat revolver being waved +negligently at the screaming women.</p> + +<p>He reached for his service revolver. And things happened.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The situation was crystal-clear. Big Jake Connors was displeased with +Brink. In all the city whose rackets he was developing and +consolidating, Brink was the only man who resisted Big Jake's civic +enterprise—and got away with it! And nobody who runs rackets can permit +resistance. It is contagious. So Big Jake had ordered that Brink be +brought into line or else. The or else alternative had run into snags, +before, but it was being given a big new try.</p> + +<p>There was the shrill high clamor of two women screaming at the tops of +their voices because revolvers were waved at them. One Elite employee, +at the pressing machine, took his foot off the treadle and steam +billowed wildly. Another man, at a giant sheet-iron box which rumbled, +stared with his mouth open and blood draining from his cheeks. Brink, +alone, looked—quite impossibly—amused and satisfied.</p> + +<p>"Get outside!" snarled a voice as Fitzgerald's revolver came out ready +for action. "This joint is finished!"</p> + +<p>The companion of the snarling man rubbed suddenly at his eye. He rubbed +again, as if it twitched violently. But it was, after all, only a +twitching eyelid. He reached negligently down and picked up a wooden +box. By its markings, it was a dozen-bottle box of spot-remover—the +stuff used to get out spots the standard cleaning fluid in the +dry-cleaning machine did not remove.</p> + +<p>The man heaved the box, with the hand with which he had rubbed his +twitching eye. The other man raised a hand—the one not holding a +revolver—to rub at his own eye, which also seemed to twitch agitatedly.</p> + +<p>Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald had his revolver out. He drew in his +breath for a stentorian command for them to drop their weapons. But he +didn't have time to shout. The hurtling small box of spot-remover struck +the large sheet-iron case from which loud rumblings came. It was a +dryer; a device for spinning clothes which were wet with liquid from the +dry-cleaning washer. A perforated drum revolved at high speed within it. +The box of spot-remover hit the door. The door dented in, hit the +high-speed drum inside, and flew frantically out again, free from its +hinges and turning end-for-end as it flew. It slammed into the thrower's +companion, spraining three fingers as it knocked his revolver to the +floor. The weapon slid merrily away to the outer office between +Detective Fitzgerald's feet.</p> + +<p>But this was not all. The dryer-door, having disposed of one threatening +revolver, slammed violently against the wall. The wall was merely a thin +partition, neatly paneled on the office side, but with shelves +containing cleaning-and-dyeing supplies on the other. The impact shook +the partition. Dust fell from the shelves and supplies. The hood who +hadn't lost his gun sneezed so violently that his hat came off. He bent +nearly double, and in the act he jarred the partition again.</p> + +<p>Things fell from it. Many things. A two-gallon jar of extra-special +detergent, used only for laces, conked him and smashed on the floor +before him. It added to the stream of fluid already flowing with +singular directness for the open, double, back-door of the workroom. The +hood staggered, sneezed again, and convulsively pulled the trigger of +his gun. The bullet hit something which was solid heavy metal, +ricocheted, ricocheted again and the second hood howled and leaped +wildly into the air. He came down in the flowing flood of spilled +detergent, flat on his stomach, and with marked forward momentum. He +slid. The floor of the plant had recently been oiled to keep down dust. +The coefficient of friction of a really good detergent on top of +floor-oil is remarkably low,—somewhere around point oh-oh-nine. Hood +number two slid magnificently on his belly on the superb lubrication +afforded by detergent on top of floor-oil.</p> + +<p>The first hood staggered. Something else fell from the shelf. It was a +carton of electric-light bulbs. Despite the protecting carton, they went +off with crackings like gunfire. Technically, they did not explode but +implode, but the hood with the revolver did not notice the difference. +He leaped—and also landed in the middle of the wide streak of +detergent-over-oil which might have been arranged to receive him.</p> + +<p>He remained erect, but he slid slowly along that shining path. His +relatively low speed was not his fault, because he went through all the +motions of frenzied flight. His legs twinkled as he ran. But his feet +slid backward. He moved with a sort of dignified celerity, running fast +enough for ten times the speed, upon a surface which had a frictional +coefficient far below that of the smoothest possible ice.</p> + +<p>Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald gaped, his mouth dropped open and his gun +held laxly in a practically nerveless hand.</p> + +<p>The thing developed splendidly. The prone gunman slid out of the wide +double door, pushing a bow-wave of detergent before him. He slid across +the cement just outside, into the open garage whose delivery-truck was +absent, and slammed with a sort of deliberate violence into a stack of +four cardboard drums of that bone-black which is used to filter +cleaning-fluid so it can be used over again in the dry-cleaning machine. +The garage was used for storage as well as shelter for the +establishment's truck.</p> + +<p>The four drums were not accurately piled. They were three and a half +feet high and two feet in diameter. They toppled sedately, falling with +a fine precision upon the now hatless, running, sliding hood. One of +them burst upon him. A second burst upon the prone man—who had butted +through the cardboard of the bottom one on his arrival. There was a +dense black cloud which filled all the interior of the garage. It was +bone-black, which cannot be told from lamp-black or soot by the +uninitiated.</p> + +<p>From the cloud came a despairing revolver shot. It was pure reflex +action by a man who had been whammed over the head by a +hundred-and-fifty-pound drum of yielding—in fact bursting—material. +There was a metallic clang. Then silence.</p> + +<p>In a very little while the dust-cloud cleared. One figure struggled +insanely. Upon him descended—from an oil drum of cylinder-oil stored +above the rafters—a tranquil, glistening rod of opalescent +cylinder-oil. His last bullet had punctured the drum. Oil turned the +bone-black upon him into a thick, sticky goo which instantly gathered +more bone-black to become thicker, stickier, and gooier. He fought it, +while his unconscious companion lay with his head in a crumpled +cardboard container of more black stuff.</p> + +<p>The despairing, struggling hood managed to get off one more shot, as if +defying even fate and chance. This bullet likewise found a target. It +burst a container of powdered dye-stuff, also stored overhead. The +container practically exploded and its contents descended in a +widespread shower which coated all the interior of the garage with a +lovely layer of bright heliotrope.</p> + +<p>Maybe the struggling hood saw it. If so, it broke him utterly. What had +happened was starkly impossible. The only sane explanation was that he +had died and was in hell. He accepted that explanation and broke into +sobs.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald had witnessed every instant of the +happening, but he did not believe it. Nevertheless, he said in a strange +voice: "I'll phone for the paddy-wagon. It'll do for a ambulance, in +case of need."</p> + +<p>He put away his unused service revolver. Thinking strange, dizzy +thoughts of twitching eyelids and plastic scraps and starkly incredible +happenings, he managed to call for the police patrol. When he hung up, +he gazed blankly at the wall. He gazed, in fact, at a spot where a +peculiar small machine with no visible function reposed—somewhat +dusty—on a shelf.</p> + +<p>Brink stepped over briskly and closed the door between the scene of +catastrophe and the immaculate shop. Somehow, none of the mess had +spilled back through the doorway. Then he came in, frowning a little.</p> + +<p>"The fight's out of them," he said cheerfully. "One's got a bad cut on +his head. The other's completely unnerved. <i>Tsk! Tsk!</i> I hate to have +such things happen!"</p> + +<p>Sergeant Fitzgerald shook himself, as if trying to come back to a normal +and a reasonable world.</p> + +<p>"Look!" he said in a hoarse voice. "I saw it, an' I still don't believe +it! Things like this don't happen! I thought you might be lucky. It +ain't that. I thought I might be crazy. It ain't that! What has been +goin' on?"</p> + +<p>Brink sat down. His air was one of wry contemplation.</p> + +<p>"I told you I had a special kind of luck you couldn't believe. Did your +eyelids twitch any time today?"</p> + +<p>Fitzgerald swallowed.</p> + +<p>"They did. And I stopped short an' something that should've knocked my +cranium down my windpipe missed me by inches. An' again—But no matter. +Yes."</p> + +<p>"Maybe you can believe it, then," said Brink. "Did you ever hear of a +man named Hieronymus?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Fitzgerald in a numbed voice. "Who's he?"</p> + +<p>"He got a patent once," said Brink, matter-of-factly, "on a machine he +believed detected something he called eloptic radiation. He thought it +was a kind of radiation nobody had noticed before. He was wrong. It +worked by something called psi."</p> + +<p>Sergeant Fitzgerald shook his head. It still needed clearing.</p> + +<p>"Psi still isn't fully understood," explained Brink, "but it will do a +lot of things. For instance, it can change probability as magnetism can +change temperature. You can establish a psi field in a suitable +material, just as you can establish a magnetic field in steel or alnico. +Now, if you spin a copper disk in a magnetic field, you get eddy +currents. Keep it up, and the disk gets hot. If you're obstinate about +it, you can melt the copper. It isn't the magnet, as such, that does the +melting. It's the energy of the spinning disk that is changed into heat. +The magnetic field simply sets up the conditions for the change of +motion into heat. In the same way ... am I boring you?"</p> + +<p>"Confusing me," said Fitzgerald, "maybe. But keep on. Maybe I'll catch a +glimmer presently."</p> + +<p>"In the same way," said Brink, "you can try to perform violent actions +in a strong psi field—a field made especially to act on violence. When +you first try it you get something like eddy currents. Warnings. It can +be arranged that such psi eddy currents make your eyelids twitch. Keep +it up, and probability changes to shift the most-likely consequences of +the violence. This is like a spinning copper disk getting hot. Then, if +you're obstinate about it, you get the equivalent of the copper disk +melting. Probability gets so drastically changed that the violent thing +you're trying to do becomes something that can't happen. Hm-m-m. ... You +can't spin a copper disk in a magnetic field when it melts. You can't +commit a murder in a certain kind of psi field when probability goes +hog-wild. Any other thing can happen to anybody else—to you, for +example—but no violence can happen to the thing or person you're trying +to do something violent to. The psi field has melted down ordinary +probabilities. The violence you intend has become the most improbable of +all conceivable things. You see?"</p> + +<p>"I'm beginnin'," said Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald dizzily, "I'm +beginnin' to get a toehold on what you mean. I'd hate to have to testify +about it in court, but I'm receptive."</p> + +<p>"So my special kind of luck," said Brink, "comes from antiviolence psi +fields, set up in psi units of suitable material. They don't use up +energy any more than a magnet does. But they transfer it, like a magnet +does. My brother-in-law thought he had to lose his business because Big +Jake threatened violent things. I offered to take it over and protect +it—with psi units. So far, I have. When four hoods intended to shoot up +the place and moved to do it, they were warned. Psi 'eddy currents' made +their eyelids twitch. They went ahead. Probability changed. Quite +unlikely things became more likely than not. They were obstinate about +it, and what they intended became perhaps the only thing in the world +that simply couldn't happen. So they crashed into a telephone pole. That +wasn't violence. That was accident."</p> + +<p>The detective blinked, and then nodded, somehow painfully.</p> + +<p>"I see," he said uncertainly.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Somebody set a bomb in my delivery truck," added Brink. "I'm sure his +eyelids twitched, but he didn't stop. So probability changed. The +explosion of that bomb in my truck became the most unlikely of all +possible things. In fact, it became impossible. So some electric +connection went bad, and it didn't go off. Again, when Jacaro intended +to plant a time fire-bomb to set the plant on fire—why—his eyelids +must have twitched but he didn't give up the intention. So the psi unit +naturally made the burning of the plant impossible. For it to be +impossible, the fire-bomb had to go off where it would do next to no +harm. Jacaro lost his pants."</p> + +<p>He stopped. Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald swallowed carefully.</p> + +<p>"I don't question it," he said dizzily, "even if I don't believe it. +Will you now tell me that what just happened was a psi something keepin' +violent things from happening?"</p> + +<p>"That's it," agreed Brink. "The psi unit made the dryer-door fly off and +knock a pistol out of a man's hand. If they'd dropped the idea of +violence, that would have ended the matter. They didn't."</p> + +<p>"I accept it," said Fitzgerald. He gulped. "Because I saw it. A court +wouldn't believe it, though, Mr. Brink!"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"I've been tryin' for months," said Fitzgerald in sudden desperation, +"to find a way to stop what Big Jake's doin'. But he's tricky. He's +organized. He's got smart lawyers. Mr. Brink, if the cops could use what +you've got—" Then he stopped. "It'd never be authorized," he said +bitterly. "They'd never let a cop try it."</p> + +<p>"No," agreed Brink. "Until it's believed in it can only be used +privately, for private purposes. Like I've used it. Or Hm-m-m. Do you +fish, or bowl, or play golf, sergeant? I could give you a psi unit +that'd help you quite a bit in such a private purpose."</p> + +<p>Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Dry-fly fishin's my specialty," he said bitterly, "but no thank you! +When I'm pittin' myself against a trout, it's my private purpose to be a +better fisherman than he's a fish. Usin' what you've got would be like +dynamitin' a stream. No sport in that! No! But this Big Jake, he doesn't +act sporting with the public. I'd give a lot to stop him."</p> + +<p>"You'd get no credit for it," said Brink. "No credit at all."</p> + +<p>"I'd get the job done!" said Fitzgerald indignantly. "A man likes +credit, but he likes a lot better to get a good job done!"</p> + +<p>Brink grinned suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Good man!" he said approvingly. "I'll buy your idea, sergeant. If +you'll play fair with a trout, you'll play fair with a crook, and an +Irishman, anyhow, has a sort of inheritance—I'll give you what help I +can, and you'll do things your grandfather would swear was the work of +the Little People. And for a first lesson—"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Big Jake discourages me," said Brink. "So I'll call him up and say I'm +coming to see him. I'll say if he wants this business I'll sell it to +him at a fair price. But I'll say otherwise I'll tell the newspapers +about his threats and the four of his hoods in the hospital and the two +others on the way there. Want to come along?"</p> + +<p>Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald reached his hand to where his service +revolver reposed in its holster. Then he drew it away.</p> + +<p>"He's a very violent man," he said hopefully. "I wouldn't wonder he +tried to get pretty rough—him and the characters he has on his payroll. +If they have to be stopped from bein' violent by—what is it? Psi units? +Sure I'll come along! It'd ought to be most edifyin' to watch!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>There was a clanging outside. Brink and Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald +delayed while the two unnerved, helpless, and formerly immaculate gunmen +were loaded into the paddy-wagon and carried away—to the hospital that +already held four of their ilk. Then Brink called Big Jake on the +telephone.</p> + +<p>Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald listened with increasing appreciation as +Brink made his proposition and explained matter-of-factly what had +happened to Big Jake's minions who should have wrecked the Elite +Cleaners and Dyers. When Brink hung up, Fitzgerald had a look of zestful +anticipation on his face.</p> + +<p>"He said to come right over," said Brink. "But he was grinding his +teeth."</p> + +<p>"Ah-h-h!" said Fitzgerald pleasurably. "I'm thinkin' of the cab-drivers +an' truck drivers that've been beat up. I'm thinkin' of property smashed +and honest people scared.... Do you know, I'm terrible afraid Big Jake's +too much in the habit of violence to stop, even if his eyelids twitch? +It's deplorable! But on a strictly personal basis I think I'll enjoy +seein' Big Jake an' his hoods discouraged by ... what is it Psi units? +Yes!"</p> + +<p>And he did. Big Jake's eyelids undoubtedly did twitch while he was +preparing a reception for Brink and Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald. But +he did not heed the warning. He did not even think of the legal aspect +of violent things attempted against his visitors. So he tried +violence—he and his associates. They started out with fists and clubs, +regardless of discretion. They tried to beat up Brink and Fitzgerald. +From that they went on to sawed-off shotguns. Their efforts were still +unsuccessful. Then they went to extremes.</p> + +<p>Fitzgerald wore an expression of pious joy as Big Jake Connors and his +aides, obstinately attempting violent actions, were prevented by psi +units.</p> + +<p>When it was all over, the ambulance had to make two trips.</p> + + +<h4>THE END</h4> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ambulance Made Two Trips, by +William Fitzgerald Jenkins + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMBULANCE MADE TWO TRIPS *** + +***** This file should be named 24149-h.htm or 24149-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/1/4/24149/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Bruce Albrecht, Mary Meehan and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/24149-h/images/illus1.jpg b/24149-h/images/illus1.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e39de2b --- /dev/null +++ b/24149-h/images/illus1.jpg diff --git a/24149-h/images/illus2.jpg b/24149-h/images/illus2.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f051d50 --- /dev/null +++ b/24149-h/images/illus2.jpg diff --git a/24149-h/images/illus3.jpg b/24149-h/images/illus3.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bd6e0b4 --- /dev/null +++ b/24149-h/images/illus3.jpg diff --git a/24149.txt b/24149.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e7a48b8 --- /dev/null +++ b/24149.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1353 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ambulance Made Two Trips, by +William Fitzgerald Jenkins + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Ambulance Made Two Trips + +Author: William Fitzgerald Jenkins + +Release Date: January 3, 2008 [EBook #24149] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMBULANCE MADE TWO TRIPS *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Bruce Albrecht, Mary Meehan and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + THE AMBULANCE MADE TWO TRIPS + + By MURRAY LEINSTER + + Illustrated by Scoenherr + +[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Astounding Science +Fiction April 1960. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that +the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] + + + + + _If you should set a thief to catch a thief, what does it take to + stop a racketeer...?_ + + +Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald found a package before his door that +morning, along with the milk. He took it inside and opened it. It was a +remarkably fine meerschaum pipe, such as the sergeant had longed +irrationally to own for many years. There was no message with it, nor +any card. He swore bitterly. + +On his way to Headquarters he stopped in at the orphanage where he +usually left such gifts. On other occasions he had left Scotch, a +fly-rod, sets of very expensive dry-flies, and dozens of pairs of silk +socks. The female head of the orphanage accepted the gift with +gratitude. + +"I don't suppose," said Fitzgerald morbidly, "that any of your kids will +smoke this pipe, but I want to be rid of it and for somebody to know." +He paused. "Are you gettin' many other gifts on this order, from other +cops? Like you used to?" + +The head of the orphanage admitted that the total had dropped off. +Fitzgerald went on his way, brooding. He'd been getting anonymous gifts +like this ever since Big Jake Connors moved into town with bright ideas. +Big Jake denied that he was the generous party. He expressed complete +ignorance. But Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald knew better. The gifts were +having their effect upon the Force. There was a police lieutenant whose +wife had received a mink stole out of thin air and didn't speak to her +husband for ten days when he gave it to the Community Drive. He wouldn't +do a thing like that again! There was another sergeant--not +Fitzgerald--who'd found a set of four new white-walls tires on his +doorstep, and was ostracized by his teen-age offspring when he turned +them into the police Lost and Found. Fitzgerald gave his gifts to an +orphanage, with a fine disregard of their inappropriateness. But he +gloomily suspected that a great many of his friends were weakening. The +presents weren't bribes. Big Jake not only didn't ask acknowledgments of +them, he denied that he was the giver. But inevitably the recipients of +bounty with the morning milk felt less indignation about what Big Jake +was doing and wasn't getting caught at. + +At Headquarters, Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald found a memo. A memo was +routine, but the contents of this one were remarkable. He scowled at it. +He made phone calls, checking up on the more unlikely parts of it. Then +he went to make the regular investigation. + +When he reached his destination he found it an unpretentious frame +building with a sign outside: "Elite Cleaners and Dyers." There were no +plate-glass windows. There was nothing show-off about it. It was just a +medium-sized, modestly up-to-date establishment to which lesser +tailoring shops would send work for wholesale treatment. From some place +in the back, puffs of steam shot out at irregular intervals. Somebody +worked a steampresser on garments of one sort or another. There was a +rumbling hum, as of an oversized washing-machine in operation. All +seemed tranquil. + +The detective went in the door. Inside there was that peculiar, +professional-cleaning-fluid smell, which is not as alarming as gasoline +or carbon tetrachloride, but nevertheless discourages the idea of +striking a match. In the outer office a man wrote placidly on one +blue-paper strip after another. He had an air of pleasant +self-confidence. He glanced up briefly, nodded, wrote on three more +blue-paper strips, and then gathered them all up and put them in a +particular place. He turned to Fitzgerald. + +"Well?" + +Fitzgerald showed his shield. The man behind the counter nodded again. + +"My name's Fitzgerald," grunted the detective. "The boss?" + +"Me," said the man behind the counter. He was cordial. "My name's Brink. +You've got something to talk to me about?" + +"That's the idea," said Fitzgerald. "A coupla questions." + +Brink jerked a thumb toward a door. + +"Come in the other office. Chairs there, and we can sit down. What's the +trouble? A complaint of some kind?" + + * * * * * + +He ushered Fitzgerald in before him. The detective found himself +scowling. He'd have felt better with a different kind of man to ask +questions of. This Brink looked untroubled and confident. It didn't +fit the situation. The inner office looked equally matter-of-fact. +No.... There was the shelf with the usual books of reference on textiles +and such items as a cleaner-and-dyer might need to have on hand. +But there were some others: "_Basic Principles of Psi_", "_Modern +Psychokinetic Theories_." There was a small, mostly-plastic machine on +another shelf. It had no obvious function. It looked as if it had some +unguessable but rarely-used purpose. There was dust on it. + +"What's the complaint?" repeated Brink. "Hm-m-m. A cigar?" + +"No," said Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald. "I'll light my pipe." He did, +extracting tobacco and a pipe that was by no means a meerschaum from his +pocket. He puffed and said: "A guy who works for you caught himself on +fire this mornin'. It happened on a bus. Very peculiar. The guy's name +was Jacaro." + +Brink did not look surprised. + +"What happened?" + +"It's kind of a strange thing," said Fitzgerald. "Accordin' to the +report he's ridin' this bus, readin' his paper, when all of a sudden he +yells an' jumps up. His pants are on fire. He gets 'em off fast and +chucks them out the bus window. He's blistered some but not serious, and +he clams up--but good--when the ambulance doc puts salve on him. He +won't say a word about what happened or how. They hadda call a ambulance +because he couldn't go huntin' a doc with no pants on." + +"But he's not burned badly?" asked Brink. + +"No. Blisters, yes. Scared, yes. And mad as hell. But he'll get along. +It's too bad. We've pinched him three times on suspicion of arson, but +we couldn't make it stick. Something ought to happen to make that guy +stop playin' with matches--only this wasn't matches." + +"I'm glad he's only a little bit scorched," said Brink. He considered. +"Did he say anything about his eyelids twitching this morning? I don't +suppose he would." + +The detective stared. + +"He didn't. Say aren't you curious about how he came to catch on fire? +Or what his pants smelled of that burned so urgent? Or where he expected +burnin' to start instead of his pants?" + +Brink thought it over. Then he shook his head. + +"No. I don't think I'm curious." + +The detective looked at him long and hard. + +"O.K.," he said dourly. "But there's something else. Day before +yesterday there was a car accident opposite here. Remember?" + +"I wasn't here at the time," said Brink. + +"There's a car rolling along the street outside," said the detective. +"There's some hoods in it--guys who do dirty work for Big Jake Connors. +I can't prove a thing, but it looks like they had ideas about this +place. About thirty yards up the street a sawed-off shotgun goes off. +Very peculiar. It sends a load of buckshot through a side window of your +place." + +Brink said with an air of surprise: "Oh! That must have been what broke +the window!" + +"Yeah," said Fitzgerald. "But the interesting thing is that the flash of +the shotgun burned all the hair off the head of the guy that was doin' +the drivin'. It didn't scratch him, just scorched his hair off. It +scared him silly." + +Brink grinned faintly, but he said pleasantly: "Tsk. Tsk. Tsk." + +"He jams down the accelerator and rams a telephone pole," pursued +Fitzgerald. "There's four hoods in that car, remember, and every one of +'em's got a police record you could paper a house with. And they've got +four sawed-off shotguns and a tommy-gun in the back seat. They're all +laid out cold when the cops arrive." + +"I was wondering about the window," said Brink, pensively. + +"It puzzles you, eh?" demanded the detective ironically. "Could you've +figured it out that they were goin' to shoot up your plant to scare the +people who work for you so they'll quit? Did you make a guess they +intended to drive you outta business like they did the guy that had this +place before you?" + +"That's an interesting theory," said Brink encouragingly. + +Detective Fitzgerald nodded. + +"There's one thing more," he said formidably. "You got a delivery truck. +You keep it in a garage back yonder. Yesterday you sent it to a garage +for inspection of brakes an' lights an' such." + +"Yes," said Brink. "I did. It's not back yet. They were busy. They'll +call me when it's ready." + +Fitzgerald snorted. + +"They'll call you when the bomb squad gets through checkin' it! When the +guys at the garage lifted the hood they started runnin'. Then they +hollered copper. There was a bomb in there!" + +Brink seemed to try to look surprised. He only looked interested. + +"Two sticks of dynamite," the detective told him grimly, "wired up to go +off when your driver turned on the ignition. He did but it didn't. But +we got a police force in this town! We know there's racketeerin' bein' +practiced. We know there's crooked stuff goin' on. We even got mighty +good ideas who's doin' it. But we ain't been able to get anything on +anybody. Not yet. Nobody's been willin' to talk, so far. But you--" + +The telephone rang stridently. Brink looked at the instrument and +shrugged. He answered. + +"Hello.... No, Mr. Jacaro isn't in today. He didn't come to work. On the +way downtown his pants caught on fire--" + +Fitzgerald guessed that the voice at the other end of the line said +"_What?_" in, an explosive manner. + +Brink said matter-of-factly: "I said his pants caught on fire. It was +probably something he was bringing here to burn the plant down with--a +fire bomb. I don't think he's to blame that it went off early. He +probably started out with the worst possible intentions, but something +happened...." He listened and said: "But he didn't chicken! He couldn't +come to work and plant a fire bomb to set fire to the place!... I know +it must be upsetting to have things like that automobile accident and my +truck not blowing up and now Jacaro's pants instead of my business going +up in flames. But I told you--" + +He stopped and listened. Once he grinned. + +"Wait!" he said after a moment. He covered the transmitter and turned to +Fitzgerald. "What hospital is Jacaro in?" + +Fitzgerald said sourly: "He wasn't burned bad. Just blistered. They lent +him some pants and he went home cussing." + +"Thanks," said Brink. He uncovered the transmitter. "He went home," he +told the instrument. "You can ask him about it. In a way I'm sure it +wasn't his fault. I'm quite sure his eyelids twitched when he started +out. I think the men who drove the car the other day had twitching +eyelids, too. You should ask--" + +The detective heard muted noises, as it a man shouted into a transmitter +somewhere. + +Brink said briskly: "No, I don't see any reason to change my +mind.... No.... I know it was luck, if you want to put it that way, +but.... No. I wouldn't advise that! Please take my advice about when +your eyelid twitches--" + +Fitzgerald heard the crash of the receiver hung up at some distant +place. Brink rubbed his ear. He turned back. + +"Hm-m-m," he said. "Your pipe's gone out." + +It was. Sergeant Fitzgerald puffed ineffectually. Brink reached out his +finger and tapped the bowl of the detective's pipe. Instantly fragrant +smoke filled the detective's mouth. He sputtered. + +"Now.... where were we?" asked Brink. + +"Who was that?" demanded Fitzgerald ferociously. "That was Big Jake +Connors!" + +"You may be right." Brink told him. "He's never exactly given me his +name. He just calls up every so often and talks nonsense." + +"What sort of nonsense?" + +"He wants to be a partner in this business," said Brink without +emotion. "He's been saying that things will happen to it otherwise. I +don't believe it. Anyhow nothing's happened so far." + + * * * * * + +Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald tried at one and the same time to roar and +to swallow. He accomplished neither. He put his finger in the bowl of +his pipe. He jerked it out, scorched. + +"Look!" he said almost hoarsely, "I was tellin' you when the phone rang! +We got a police force here in town! This's what we've been tryin' to +get! You come along with me to Headquarters an' swear to a complaint--" + +Brink said interestedly: "Why?" + +"That guy Big Jake Connors!" raged the detective. "That's why! Tryin' to +threaten you into givin' him a share in your business! Tryin' to burn it +down or blow it up when you won't! He was just a small-town crook, once. +He went to the big town an' came back with ideas. He's usin' 'em!" + +Brink looked at him expectantly. + +"He started a beer business," said the detective bitterly. "Simultaneous +other beer dealers started havin' trouble. Empty kegs smashed. Trucks +broke down. Drivers in fights. They hadda go outta business!" + +"What did the cops do?" asked Brink. + +"They listened to their wives!" snarled Fitzgerald. "They begun to find +little grabbag packages in the mail an' with the milk. Fancy perfume. +Tricky stockin's. Fancy underwear they shoulda been ashamed for anybody +to know they had it on underneath. The cops weren't bribed, but their +wives liked openin' the door of a mornin' an' findin' charmin' little +surprises." + +"Ah," said Brink. + +"Then there were juke boxes," went on the detective. "He went in that +business--an' trouble started. People'd drive up to a beer joint, go in, +get in a scuffle an'--bingo! The juke box smashed. Always the juke box. +Always a out-of-town customer. Half the juke boxes in town weren't +workin', on an average. But the ones that were workin' were always Big +Jake's. Presently he had the juke-box business to himself." + +Brink nodded, somehow appreciatively. + +"Then it was cabs," said Fitzgerald. "A lot of cops felt bad about that. +But their wives wouldn't be happy if anything happened to dear Mr. Big +Jake who denied that he gave anybody anything, so it was all right to +use that lovely perfume.... Cabs got holes in their radiators. They got +sand in their oil systems. They had blowouts an' leaks in brake-fluid +lines. Cops' wives were afraid Big Jake would get caught. But he didn't. +He started insurin' cabs against that kinda accident. Now every +cab-driver pays protection-money for what they call insurance--or else. +An' cops' wives get up early, bright-eyed, to see what Santa Claus left +with the milk." + +"You seem," said Brink with a grin, "to hint that this Big Jake +is ... well ... dishonest." + +"Dishonest!" Fitzgerald's face was purplish, from many memories of +wrongs. "There was a guy named Burdock who owned this business before +you. Y'know what happened to him?" + +"Yes," said Brink. "He's my brother-in-law. Connors or somebody insisted +on having a share of the business and threatened dreadful things if he +didn't. He didn't. So acid got spilled on clothes. Machinery got +smashed. Once a whole delivery-truck load of clothes disappeared and my +brother-in-law had to pay for any number of suits and dresses. It +got him down. He's recovering from the nervous strain now, and my +sister ... eh, asked me to help out. So I offered to take over. He warned +me I'd have the same trouble." + +"And you've got it!" fumed the detective. "But anyhow you'll make a +complaint. We'll get out some warrants, and we'll have somethin' to go +on--" + +"But nothing's happened to complain about," said Brink, quite +reasonably. "One broken window's not worth a fuss." + +"But somethin's goin' to happen!" insisted the detective. "That guy Big +Jake is poison! He's takin' over the whole town, bit by bit! You've been +lucky so far, but your luck could run out--" + +Brink shook his head. + +"No-o-o," he said matter-of-factly. "I'm grateful to you, Mr. +Fitzgerald, but I have a special kind of luck. I won't tell you about it +because you wouldn't believe but--but I can give you some of it. If you +don't mind, I will." + +He went to the slightly dusty, partly-plastic machine. On its shelf were +some parts of metal, and some of transparent plastic, and some grayish, +granular substance it was hard to identify. There was an elaborate +diagram of something like an electronic circuit inside, but it might +have been a molecular diagram from organic chemistry. Brink made an +adjustment and pressed firmly on a special part of the machine, which +did not yield at all. Then he took a slip of plastic out of a slot in +the bottom. + +"You can call this a good-luck charm," he said pleasantly, "or a +talisman. Actually it's a psionic unit. One like it works very well, for +me. Anyhow there's no harm in it. Just one thing. If your eyelids start +to twitch, you'll be headed for danger or trouble or something +unpleasant. So if they do twitch, stop and be very, very careful. +Please!" + +He handed the bit of plastic to Fitzgerald, who took it without +conscious volition. + +Then Brink said briskly: "If there isn't anything else--" + +"You won't swear out a warrant against Big Jake?" demanded Fitzgerald +bitterly. + +"I haven't any reason to," said Brink amiably. "I'm doing all right. He +hasn't harmed me. I don't think he will." + +"O.K.!" said the detective bitterly. "Have it your way! But he's got it +in for you an' he's goin' to keep tryin' until he gets you! An' whether +you like it or not, you're goin' to have some police protection as soon +as I can set it up." + +He stamped out of the cleaning-and-drying plant. Automatically, he put +the bit of plastic in his pocket. He didn't know why. He got into his +car and drove downtown. As he drove, he looked suspiciously at his pipe. +He fumed. As he fumed, he swore. He did not like mysteries. But there +was no mystery about his dislike for Big Jake Connors. He turned aside +from the direct route to Headquarters to indulge it. He drove to a +hospital where four out-of-town hoods had been carried two days before. +He marched inside and up to a second-floor corridor door with a +uniformed policeman seated outside it. + + * * * * * + +"Hm-m-m. Donnelly," he growled. "How about those guys?" + +"Not so good," said the patrolman. "They're gettin' better." + +"They would," growled Fitzgerald. + +"A lawyer's been to see 'em twice," said the patrolman. "He's comin' +back after lunch." + +"He would," grunted the detective. + +"They want out," said the cop. + +"I'm not surprised," said Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald. + +He went into the sick room. There were four patients in it, none of them +looking exactly like gentle invalids. There were two broken noses of +long-ago dates, three cauliflower ears, and one scar of a kind that is +not the result of playing lawn tennis. Two were visibly bandaged, and +the others adhesive-taped. All of them looked at Fitzgerald without +cordiality. + +"Well, well, well!" he said. "You fellas still here!" There was silence. +"In union there is strength," said Fitzgerald. "As long as you stay in +one room everybody's sure the others haven't started rattin'. Right?" + +One of the four snarled silently at him. + +"It was just a accident," pursued the detective. "You four guys are +ridin' along peaceable, merrily takin' the air, when quite inadvertently +one of you almost blows the head off of another, and he's so astonished +at there bein' a gun in the car that he wrecks it. And when they get you +guys in the hospital there ain't one of you knows anything about four +sawed-off shotguns and a tommy gun in the car with you. Strange! +Strange! Strange!" + +Four faces regarded him with impassive dislike. The bandaged ones were +prettier than the ones that weren't. + +"That tommy gun business," explained Fitzgerald, "is a federal affair. +It's against Fed law to carry 'em around loaded. And your friend Big +Jake hasn't been leavin' presents on the White House steps. Y'know, you +guys could be in trouble!" + +Three pairs of eyes and an odd one--the other was hidden under a +bandage--stared at him stonily. + +"Y'see," explained Fitzgerald again, "Big Jake's slipped up. He hasn't +realized it yet. Its my little secret. A week ago I thought he had me +licked. But somethin' happened, and today I felt like I had to come +around and congratulate you fellas. You got a break! You're gonna have +free board and lodging for years to come! I wanted to be the first to +tell you!" + +He beamed at them and went out. Outside, his expression changed. He said +bitterly to the cop at the door: "I bet they beat this rap!" + +He went downstairs and out of the hospital. He started around the +building to his car. + +His eyelid twitched. It twitched again. It began to quiver and flutter +continuously. Fitzgerald stopped short to rub the offending eye. + +There was a crash. A heavy glass water-pitcher hit the cement walk +immediately before him. It broke into a million pieces. He glared up. +The pitcher would have hit him if it hadn't been for a twitching eyelid +that had brought him to a stop. The window of the room he'd just left +was open, but there was no way to prove that a patient had gotten out of +bed to heave the pitcher. And it had broken into too many pieces to +offer fingerprint evidence. + +"Hah!" said Fitzgerald morosely. "They're plenty confident!" + +He went to Headquarters. There were more memos for his attention. One +was just in. A cab had crossed a sidewalk and crashed into a plate-glass +window. Its hydraulic brakes had failed. The trouble was a clean saw-cut +in a pressure-line. Fitzgerald went to find out about it. The cab driver +bitterly refused to answer any questions. He wouldn't even admit that he +was not insured by Big Jake against such accidents. Fitzgerald stormed. +The owner-driver firmly--and gloomily--refused to answer a question +about whether he'd been threatened if he didn't pay protection money. + +Fitzgerald raged, on the sidewalk beside the cab in the act of being +extracted from the plate-glass window. An open-mouthed bystander +listened admiringly to his language. Then the detective's eyelid +twitched. It twitched again, violently. Something made him look up. An +employee of the plate-glass company--there were rumors that Big Jake was +interesting himself in plate-glass insurance besides cabs--wrenched +loose a certain spot. Fitzgerald grabbed the bystander and leaped. There +was a musical crash behind him. A tall section of the shattered glass +fell exactly where he had been standing. It could have been pure +accident. On the other hand-- + +He couldn't prove anything, but he had a queer feeling as he left the +scene of the crash. Back in his own car he felt chilly. Driving away, +presently, he felt his eyelid tentatively. He wasn't a nervous man. +Ordinarily his eyelids didn't twitch. + + * * * * * + +He went to investigate a second memo. It was a restaurant, and he edged +the police car gingerly into a lane beside the building. In the rear, +the odor of spilled beer filled the air. It would have been attractive +but for an admixture of gasoline fumes and the fact that it was mud. Mud +whose moisture-content is spilled beer has a peculiar smell all its own. + +He got out of his car and gloomily asked the questions the memo called +for. He didn't need to. He could have written down all the answers in +advance. The restaurant now reporting vandalism had found big Jake's +brand of beer unpopular. It had twenty cases of a superior brew brought +in by motor-truck. It was stacked in a small building behind the cafe. +For one happy evening, the customers chose their own beer. + +Now, next day, there were eighteen cases of smashed beer bottles. The +crime had been committed in the small hours. There were no clues. The +restaurant proprietor unconvincingly declared that he had no idea who'd +caused it. But he'd only notified the police so he could collect +insurance--not from Big Jake. + +With a sort of morbid, frustrated gloom, Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald +made the necessary notes. He put his notebook in his pocket and backed +his car out of the alley. Oddly enough, he thought of a beautifully +carved meerschaum pipe he'd found with the milk that morning. He'd +presented it to an orphanage mainly because, irrationally, he'd have +liked to keep it. There had been other expensive gifts he'd have liked +to keep. Bourbon. A set of expensive dry-flies. An eight-millimeter +movie camera. Scotch. Shiny, smooth silk socks that would have soothed +his weary feet. He'd denied himself these gifts because he believed--he +knew--that they came from Big Jake, who tactfully won friends and +influenced people by making presents and denying it. In business matters +he was stern, because that was the way to collect protection-money. But +he was subtle with cops. He had their wives on his side. + +Sergeant Fitzgerald growled in his throat. He'd always wanted a really +fine meerschaum pipe. He'd had one this morning, and he'd had to get rid +of it because it came from Big Jake. He felt that Big Jake had robbed +him of it. + +He turned the police car and drove back toward the Elite Cleaners and +Dyers establishment. As he drove, he growled. His eyelid had twitched +twice, and each time he'd been heading into danger or trouble. The fact +was dauntingly coincidental with Brink's comment after giving him a +scrap of plastic from the bottom of that crazy machine. These things +were on his mind. He couldn't bring himself to plan to mention them, but +he needed to talk to Brink again. Brink could testify to threats. He +could justify arrests. Sergeant Fitzgerald had a fine conviction that +with a chance to apply pressure, he could make some of Big Jake's hoods +and collectors talk, and so bust things wide open. He only needed +Brink's co-operation. He drove toward the Elite Cleaners and Dyers to +put pressure on Brink toward that happy end. But he brooded over his own +eyebrow-twitchings. + +When the cleaning establishment came into view, there was a car parked +before it. Two men from that car were in the act of entering the Elite +plant through the same door the detective had used earlier. He parked +his car behind the other. Fuming, he crossed the sidewalk and entered +the building. As he entered, he heard a scream from the back. He heard a +crashing sound and more screams. + +He bolted ahead, through the outer office and into the working area he +had not visited before. He burst through swinging doors into a +two-story, machinery-filled cleaning-and-dyeing plant. Tables and +garment racks and five separate people appeared as proper occupants of +the place. But something had happened. There was a flood of +liquid--detergent solution--flowing toward the open back doors of the +big room. It obviously came from a large carboy which had been smashed +as if to draw attention to some urgent matter. + +The people in the room seemed to have frozen at their work, except that +Brink had apparently been interrupted in some supervisory task. He was +not working at any machine to clean, dye, dry, or press clothing. He +looked at the two individuals whom Fitzgerald had seen enter only +fractions of a minute earlier. His jaw clenched, and Fitzgerald was +close enough behind the bottle-breakers to see him take an angry, +purposeful step toward them. Then he checked himself very deliberately, +and put his hands in his pockets, and watched. After an instant he even +grinned at the two figures who had preceded the detective. + +They were an impressive pair. They were dressed in well-pressed garments +of extravagantly fashionable cut. They wore expensive soft hats, tilted +to jaunty angles. Even from the rear, Fitzgerald knew that handkerchiefs +would show tastefully in the breast pockets of their coats. Their shoes +had been polished until they not only shone, but glittered. But by +professional instinct Fitzgerald noted one cauliflower ear, and the +barest fraction of a second later he saw a squat revolver being waved +negligently at the screaming women. + +He reached for his service revolver. And things happened. + + * * * * * + +The situation was crystal-clear. Big Jake Connors was displeased with +Brink. In all the city whose rackets he was developing and +consolidating, Brink was the only man who resisted Big Jake's civic +enterprise--and got away with it! And nobody who runs rackets can permit +resistance. It is contagious. So Big Jake had ordered that Brink be +brought into line or else. The or else alternative had run into snags, +before, but it was being given a big new try. + +There was the shrill high clamor of two women screaming at the tops of +their voices because revolvers were waved at them. One Elite employee, +at the pressing machine, took his foot off the treadle and steam +billowed wildly. Another man, at a giant sheet-iron box which rumbled, +stared with his mouth open and blood draining from his cheeks. Brink, +alone, looked--quite impossibly--amused and satisfied. + +"Get outside!" snarled a voice as Fitzgerald's revolver came out ready +for action. "This joint is finished!" + +The companion of the snarling man rubbed suddenly at his eye. He rubbed +again, as if it twitched violently. But it was, after all, only a +twitching eyelid. He reached negligently down and picked up a wooden +box. By its markings, it was a dozen-bottle box of spot-remover--the +stuff used to get out spots the standard cleaning fluid in the +dry-cleaning machine did not remove. + +The man heaved the box, with the hand with which he had rubbed his +twitching eye. The other man raised a hand--the one not holding a +revolver--to rub at his own eye, which also seemed to twitch agitatedly. + +Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald had his revolver out. He drew in his +breath for a stentorian command for them to drop their weapons. But he +didn't have time to shout. The hurtling small box of spot-remover struck +the large sheet-iron case from which loud rumblings came. It was a +dryer; a device for spinning clothes which were wet with liquid from the +dry-cleaning washer. A perforated drum revolved at high speed within it. +The box of spot-remover hit the door. The door dented in, hit the +high-speed drum inside, and flew frantically out again, free from its +hinges and turning end-for-end as it flew. It slammed into the thrower's +companion, spraining three fingers as it knocked his revolver to the +floor. The weapon slid merrily away to the outer office between +Detective Fitzgerald's feet. + +But this was not all. The dryer-door, having disposed of one threatening +revolver, slammed violently against the wall. The wall was merely a thin +partition, neatly paneled on the office side, but with shelves +containing cleaning-and-dyeing supplies on the other. The impact shook +the partition. Dust fell from the shelves and supplies. The hood who +hadn't lost his gun sneezed so violently that his hat came off. He bent +nearly double, and in the act he jarred the partition again. + +Things fell from it. Many things. A two-gallon jar of extra-special +detergent, used only for laces, conked him and smashed on the floor +before him. It added to the stream of fluid already flowing with +singular directness for the open, double, back-door of the workroom. The +hood staggered, sneezed again, and convulsively pulled the trigger of +his gun. The bullet hit something which was solid heavy metal, +ricocheted, ricocheted again and the second hood howled and leaped +wildly into the air. He came down in the flowing flood of spilled +detergent, flat on his stomach, and with marked forward momentum. He +slid. The floor of the plant had recently been oiled to keep down dust. +The coefficient of friction of a really good detergent on top of +floor-oil is remarkably low,--somewhere around point oh-oh-nine. Hood +number two slid magnificently on his belly on the superb lubrication +afforded by detergent on top of floor-oil. + +The first hood staggered. Something else fell from the shelf. It was a +carton of electric-light bulbs. Despite the protecting carton, they went +off with crackings like gunfire. Technically, they did not explode but +implode, but the hood with the revolver did not notice the difference. +He leaped--and also landed in the middle of the wide streak of +detergent-over-oil which might have been arranged to receive him. + +He remained erect, but he slid slowly along that shining path. His +relatively low speed was not his fault, because he went through all the +motions of frenzied flight. His legs twinkled as he ran. But his feet +slid backward. He moved with a sort of dignified celerity, running fast +enough for ten times the speed, upon a surface which had a frictional +coefficient far below that of the smoothest possible ice. + +Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald gaped, his mouth dropped open and his gun +held laxly in a practically nerveless hand. + +The thing developed splendidly. The prone gunman slid out of the wide +double door, pushing a bow-wave of detergent before him. He slid across +the cement just outside, into the open garage whose delivery-truck was +absent, and slammed with a sort of deliberate violence into a stack of +four cardboard drums of that bone-black which is used to filter +cleaning-fluid so it can be used over again in the dry-cleaning machine. +The garage was used for storage as well as shelter for the +establishment's truck. + +The four drums were not accurately piled. They were three and a half +feet high and two feet in diameter. They toppled sedately, falling with +a fine precision upon the now hatless, running, sliding hood. One of +them burst upon him. A second burst upon the prone man--who had butted +through the cardboard of the bottom one on his arrival. There was a +dense black cloud which filled all the interior of the garage. It was +bone-black, which cannot be told from lamp-black or soot by the +uninitiated. + +From the cloud came a despairing revolver shot. It was pure reflex +action by a man who had been whammed over the head by a +hundred-and-fifty-pound drum of yielding--in fact bursting--material. +There was a metallic clang. Then silence. + +In a very little while the dust-cloud cleared. One figure struggled +insanely. Upon him descended--from an oil drum of cylinder-oil stored +above the rafters--a tranquil, glistening rod of opalescent +cylinder-oil. His last bullet had punctured the drum. Oil turned the +bone-black upon him into a thick, sticky goo which instantly gathered +more bone-black to become thicker, stickier, and gooier. He fought it, +while his unconscious companion lay with his head in a crumpled +cardboard container of more black stuff. + +The despairing, struggling hood managed to get off one more shot, as if +defying even fate and chance. This bullet likewise found a target. It +burst a container of powdered dye-stuff, also stored overhead. The +container practically exploded and its contents descended in a +widespread shower which coated all the interior of the garage with a +lovely layer of bright heliotrope. + +Maybe the struggling hood saw it. If so, it broke him utterly. What had +happened was starkly impossible. The only sane explanation was that he +had died and was in hell. He accepted that explanation and broke into +sobs. + + * * * * * + +Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald had witnessed every instant of the +happening, but he did not believe it. Nevertheless, he said in a strange +voice: "I'll phone for the paddy-wagon. It'll do for a ambulance, in +case of need." + +He put away his unused service revolver. Thinking strange, dizzy +thoughts of twitching eyelids and plastic scraps and starkly incredible +happenings, he managed to call for the police patrol. When he hung up, +he gazed blankly at the wall. He gazed, in fact, at a spot where a +peculiar small machine with no visible function reposed--somewhat +dusty--on a shelf. + +Brink stepped over briskly and closed the door between the scene of +catastrophe and the immaculate shop. Somehow, none of the mess had +spilled back through the doorway. Then he came in, frowning a little. + +"The fight's out of them," he said cheerfully. "One's got a bad cut on +his head. The other's completely unnerved. _Tsk! Tsk!_ I hate to have +such things happen!" + +Sergeant Fitzgerald shook himself, as if trying to come back to a normal +and a reasonable world. + +"Look!" he said in a hoarse voice. "I saw it, an' I still don't believe +it! Things like this don't happen! I thought you might be lucky. It +ain't that. I thought I might be crazy. It ain't that! What has been +goin' on?" + +Brink sat down. His air was one of wry contemplation. + +"I told you I had a special kind of luck you couldn't believe. Did your +eyelids twitch any time today?" + +Fitzgerald swallowed. + +"They did. And I stopped short an' something that should've knocked my +cranium down my windpipe missed me by inches. An' again--But no matter. +Yes." + +"Maybe you can believe it, then," said Brink. "Did you ever hear of a +man named Hieronymus?" + +"No," said Fitzgerald in a numbed voice. "Who's he?" + +"He got a patent once," said Brink, matter-of-factly, "on a machine he +believed detected something he called eloptic radiation. He thought it +was a kind of radiation nobody had noticed before. He was wrong. It +worked by something called psi." + +Sergeant Fitzgerald shook his head. It still needed clearing. + +"Psi still isn't fully understood," explained Brink, "but it will do a +lot of things. For instance, it can change probability as magnetism can +change temperature. You can establish a psi field in a suitable +material, just as you can establish a magnetic field in steel or alnico. +Now, if you spin a copper disk in a magnetic field, you get eddy +currents. Keep it up, and the disk gets hot. If you're obstinate about +it, you can melt the copper. It isn't the magnet, as such, that does the +melting. It's the energy of the spinning disk that is changed into heat. +The magnetic field simply sets up the conditions for the change of +motion into heat. In the same way ... am I boring you?" + +"Confusing me," said Fitzgerald, "maybe. But keep on. Maybe I'll catch a +glimmer presently." + +"In the same way," said Brink, "you can try to perform violent actions +in a strong psi field--a field made especially to act on violence. When +you first try it you get something like eddy currents. Warnings. It can +be arranged that such psi eddy currents make your eyelids twitch. Keep +it up, and probability changes to shift the most-likely consequences of +the violence. This is like a spinning copper disk getting hot. Then, if +you're obstinate about it, you get the equivalent of the copper disk +melting. Probability gets so drastically changed that the violent thing +you're trying to do becomes something that can't happen. Hm-m-m. ... You +can't spin a copper disk in a magnetic field when it melts. You can't +commit a murder in a certain kind of psi field when probability goes +hog-wild. Any other thing can happen to anybody else--to you, for +example--but no violence can happen to the thing or person you're trying +to do something violent to. The psi field has melted down ordinary +probabilities. The violence you intend has become the most improbable of +all conceivable things. You see?" + +"I'm beginnin'," said Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald dizzily, "I'm +beginnin' to get a toehold on what you mean. I'd hate to have to testify +about it in court, but I'm receptive." + +"So my special kind of luck," said Brink, "comes from antiviolence psi +fields, set up in psi units of suitable material. They don't use up +energy any more than a magnet does. But they transfer it, like a magnet +does. My brother-in-law thought he had to lose his business because Big +Jake threatened violent things. I offered to take it over and protect +it--with psi units. So far, I have. When four hoods intended to shoot up +the place and moved to do it, they were warned. Psi 'eddy currents' made +their eyelids twitch. They went ahead. Probability changed. Quite +unlikely things became more likely than not. They were obstinate about +it, and what they intended became perhaps the only thing in the world +that simply couldn't happen. So they crashed into a telephone pole. That +wasn't violence. That was accident." + +The detective blinked, and then nodded, somehow painfully. + +"I see," he said uncertainly. + + * * * * * + +"Somebody set a bomb in my delivery truck," added Brink. "I'm sure his +eyelids twitched, but he didn't stop. So probability changed. The +explosion of that bomb in my truck became the most unlikely of all +possible things. In fact, it became impossible. So some electric +connection went bad, and it didn't go off. Again, when Jacaro intended +to plant a time fire-bomb to set the plant on fire--why--his eyelids +must have twitched but he didn't give up the intention. So the psi unit +naturally made the burning of the plant impossible. For it to be +impossible, the fire-bomb had to go off where it would do next to no +harm. Jacaro lost his pants." + +He stopped. Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald swallowed carefully. + +"I don't question it," he said dizzily, "even if I don't believe it. +Will you now tell me that what just happened was a psi something keepin' +violent things from happening?" + +"That's it," agreed Brink. "The psi unit made the dryer-door fly off and +knock a pistol out of a man's hand. If they'd dropped the idea of +violence, that would have ended the matter. They didn't." + +"I accept it," said Fitzgerald. He gulped. "Because I saw it. A court +wouldn't believe it, though, Mr. Brink!" + +"Well?" + +"I've been tryin' for months," said Fitzgerald in sudden desperation, +"to find a way to stop what Big Jake's doin'. But he's tricky. He's +organized. He's got smart lawyers. Mr. Brink, if the cops could use what +you've got--" Then he stopped. "It'd never be authorized," he said +bitterly. "They'd never let a cop try it." + +"No," agreed Brink. "Until it's believed in it can only be used +privately, for private purposes. Like I've used it. Or Hm-m-m. Do you +fish, or bowl, or play golf, sergeant? I could give you a psi unit +that'd help you quite a bit in such a private purpose." + +Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald shook his head. + +"Dry-fly fishin's my specialty," he said bitterly, "but no thank you! +When I'm pittin' myself against a trout, it's my private purpose to be a +better fisherman than he's a fish. Usin' what you've got would be like +dynamitin' a stream. No sport in that! No! But this Big Jake, he doesn't +act sporting with the public. I'd give a lot to stop him." + +"You'd get no credit for it," said Brink. "No credit at all." + +"I'd get the job done!" said Fitzgerald indignantly. "A man likes +credit, but he likes a lot better to get a good job done!" + +Brink grinned suddenly. + +"Good man!" he said approvingly. "I'll buy your idea, sergeant. If +you'll play fair with a trout, you'll play fair with a crook, and an +Irishman, anyhow, has a sort of inheritance--I'll give you what help I +can, and you'll do things your grandfather would swear was the work of +the Little People. And for a first lesson--" + +"What?" + +"Big Jake discourages me," said Brink. "So I'll call him up and say I'm +coming to see him. I'll say if he wants this business I'll sell it to +him at a fair price. But I'll say otherwise I'll tell the newspapers +about his threats and the four of his hoods in the hospital and the two +others on the way there. Want to come along?" + +Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald reached his hand to where his service +revolver reposed in its holster. Then he drew it away. + +"He's a very violent man," he said hopefully. "I wouldn't wonder he +tried to get pretty rough--him and the characters he has on his payroll. +If they have to be stopped from bein' violent by--what is it? Psi units? +Sure I'll come along! It'd ought to be most edifyin' to watch!" + + * * * * * + +There was a clanging outside. Brink and Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald +delayed while the two unnerved, helpless, and formerly immaculate gunmen +were loaded into the paddy-wagon and carried away--to the hospital that +already held four of their ilk. Then Brink called Big Jake on the +telephone. + +Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald listened with increasing appreciation as +Brink made his proposition and explained matter-of-factly what had +happened to Big Jake's minions who should have wrecked the Elite +Cleaners and Dyers. When Brink hung up, Fitzgerald had a look of zestful +anticipation on his face. + +"He said to come right over," said Brink. "But he was grinding his +teeth." + +"Ah-h-h!" said Fitzgerald pleasurably. "I'm thinkin' of the cab-drivers +an' truck drivers that've been beat up. I'm thinkin' of property smashed +and honest people scared.... Do you know, I'm terrible afraid Big Jake's +too much in the habit of violence to stop, even if his eyelids twitch? +It's deplorable! But on a strictly personal basis I think I'll enjoy +seein' Big Jake an' his hoods discouraged by ... what is it Psi units? +Yes!" + +And he did. Big Jake's eyelids undoubtedly did twitch while he was +preparing a reception for Brink and Detective Sergeant Fitzgerald. But +he did not heed the warning. He did not even think of the legal aspect +of violent things attempted against his visitors. So he tried +violence--he and his associates. They started out with fists and clubs, +regardless of discretion. They tried to beat up Brink and Fitzgerald. +From that they went on to sawed-off shotguns. Their efforts were still +unsuccessful. Then they went to extremes. + +Fitzgerald wore an expression of pious joy as Big Jake Connors and his +aides, obstinately attempting violent actions, were prevented by psi +units. + +When it was all over, the ambulance had to make two trips. + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ambulance Made Two Trips, by +William Fitzgerald Jenkins + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMBULANCE MADE TWO TRIPS *** + +***** This file should be named 24149.txt or 24149.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/1/4/24149/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Bruce Albrecht, Mary Meehan and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/24149.zip b/24149.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b162b18 --- /dev/null +++ b/24149.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..06d4596 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #24149 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/24149) |
