Check and Checkmate Read online

Andrei Sorkin had beena physicist who had done considerable work in crystal-structure beforethe Big Silence had cut off knowledge of his activities from the West.Further, the Peoplesfriend's references to industrial usage, coupledwith his remarks about specialized labor, seemed to suggest that theEast had made great strides in servo-mechanisms and auto-controldevices. But control devices were not weapons in themselves. Electronicrocket-pilots were not weapons unless there were rockets for them tofly. Automatic target-trackers were not weapons unless they guided aweapon to shoot at the target. It made little sense; he concluded thatIvan had not meant it to make much sense. Smith could only interpret itas meaning: "Our weapons are marvelously controlled; therefore we needfewer of them."

  On the probe front, events were about as usual. The lists of suspectsand convictions grew bulky enough to keep a large office staff busy withdetails. More sinister, in the President's judgment, was the small listof suspects who vanished or committed suicide at the slightest hint ofsuspicion. The list grew at a slow but steady pace. John assumed thatthese were certainly guilty. And thorough, searching inquiries intotheir past activities were made. These post mortem probes revealednothing. Their records were clean. Their families, friends, relatives,and even their ancestors were above suspicion. If they had sold out tothe enemy, they had given him nothing in return for his wages exceptperhaps a promise to be fulfilled on a Deadline Day.

  He called the Secretary of Defense and demanded a screening procedure beadopted for future personnel, a procedure which would be aimed atselecting men with fanatic loyalty, rather than merely guarding againsttreason.

  "We seem to already have something," murmured the Secretary, a slender,graying gentleman with aristocratic features. "The incidents at thesatellite-project seem to indicate that there's something they don'tlike about our ordinary testing methods."

  "Eh? How do you mean?"

  "Three men--volunteers for the project--vanished as soon as they foundout that they had to submit to all the physicals, mental tests, and soforth. I don't know what they were afraid of. They were already on thereservation. Found out they'd have to be tested again, and vanished. Onea known suicide, but the body's still in the river."

  "'Tested _again_'?" the President echoed.

  "That's right, John. They'd gone through it before. This was just arecheck for this particular project. Of course, I don't _know_ that theywere agents."

  "Mmm! So they can't stand a recheck. All right, recheck everybody."

  "John! A third of the population works for the government!"

  "I mean everybody connected with new projects, the most importantinstallations. This might be a weapon for us."

  When he received the Secretary's report a week later, John grinnedhappily. The rechecks had begun, and the disappearances were mounting.But the grin faded when he read the rest of it. Two of the men had beencaught attempting to escape. They had been lodged in a local jail toawait transfer to the capitol. During the night, the jailer became awareof a blinding light from the cell-blocks and the stench of burnt organicmatter. By the time he reached their cells, the men were gone, and therewere only sickening fumes, charred ashes, and a pair of red-hot patcheson the floor. Somehow they had gotten incendiary materials into theircells, and the cremation was complete--too complete to be credible.

  Then the disappearances began to taper off--until finally, after a fewweeks, they ceased completely. He wondered: were the culprits allferreted out, or had some of them managed to get around the rechecks?

  He had spoken to the Asian leader several times, and Ivan was growingcurt, even bitingly nasty at times. The President hopefully interpretedit as a sign that his probe was successful enough to worry the Red. Hetried to strengthen his position with respect to the proposedconferences, and made only minor concessions such as agreeing to acoastal city in Mexico as the site, rather than the shifting capitol.Ivan sneeringly made equally minute adjustments eastward from Singapore.There was apparently going to be a deadlock, and John was somehow notsorry.

  Then the cold-eyed face on the screen did an abrupt about-face, andannounced, "I propose that the delegates, including the leaders of bothstates, meet at a site of your selection in either of the neutral polarregions, not later than Seventhday of Veto Week--which, I think is yourFried Pie Week?--and come prepared to discuss and exchange informationrelating to size of armament-inventories and future plans. This is mylast proposal."

  * * * * *

  They stared at each other coldly. John started to utter a refusal, thenpaused. Seventhday of ... it was one day before the satellite programbegan moving into space. If he could keep the Eastern Leader tied up fora few weeks afterwards--

  "I'll consider your proposal and give you a reply tomorrow," he saidbluntly.

  The Peoplesfriend gave him a curt nod and clicked off the screen. Johnchuckled. The enemy's espionage program was evidently getting badlyhurt. About one percent of the West's population had been executed,imprisoned, or shifted to other jobs as a result of the congressionalprobe. The one percent probably included quite a few guilty citizens.

  "Rodner, I want a Strike-Day set, a full-scale blitz-operation readiedas soon as possible," he told the defense-chief. "I know that a lot ofyour target information is forty years old, but work out the best planyou can. A depopulation strike, perhaps; there are only two opinions inthe world, so 'world-opinion' is not one of the things we need toconsider."

  The Defense Secretary caught his breath and sat stiffly erect. "War?" hegasped.

  "Don't use that word."

  "Sorry, peace-effort."

  "No. At least I hope not. I want a gun aimed at them as a bargainingpoint. But I want it to be a damned _big_ gun, and one that's capable ofshattering every major city in the East on a few hours' notice. Howeffective could you make it--if you had to?"

  The Secretary frowned doubtfully and tugged at his ear. "Well, John, ourstrategic command has kept a running plan in effect, revising it toallow for every tidbit of information we can get. Planning continentalblitzes is a favorite past-time around high-level strategic commands; itkeeps the boys in trim. A plan could probably be agreed upon in a veryshort time, but its nature would depend on your earliest deadline date."

  "Two dates," grunted the tragedy-mask. "The first is Seventhday, FriedPie Week. I want a maximum possible effort readied by then, with a planthat allows for a possible stand-by at that date, and a continuedbuild-up to a greater maximum--to be reached when the satellite stationis in space and ready for battle. Include the station in the extendedplan."

  "This is a very dangerous business, John."

  The mask whirled. "Do you presume to--?"

  "No, Sir. The strike-effort will be prepared as soon as possible." Hebowed slightly, then left the presidential study-vault.

  Smith turned to gaze at his Stand-ins. "You will go," he said, "all ofyou, to the examining authorities for the standard loyalty tests andpsych-phys rechecks."

  The nine masked figures glanced at one another in surprise, then nodded.There were no protests. The following day he had only seven Stand-ins;Four and Eight had been trapped in a burning building on the outskirtsof the rabble city, and their remains had not been found.

  Smith kept a tight cork on his rage, but it seethed inside him andthreatened to burn through as the time approached to speak again withIvan Ivanovitch IX. The enemy's infiltration into the very ranks of thePresidency robbed him even of dignity. Furthermore, now that the twoscoundrels were uncovered, and dead, he remembered a very unpleasant butsignificant fact: he had, even before his "election" by the rabble,discussed the televiewphone conferences with the Primaries. The idea ofcontacting Ivan had started, as most ideas start, from some small seedor other that could scarcely be remembered, some off-hand reference tothe costly aspects of the Big Silence perhaps, and it had grown into theplan for contact. _But how_ had the idea first come to him? Had one ofthe guilty Stand-ins perhaps planted the seed in his mind? _After_ heproposed it, they had seemed demurr
ing at first, but not too long.

  Grimly, he realized that the idea might have originated on the far sideof the Pacific.

  "Who, pray, is the potter, and who the pot?" he grunted, glowering atthe nearest Stand-in.

  "I beg your pardon?" answered the man, who could not see the glower forthe mask.

  "Khayyam, you fool!"

  "Oh--"

  "_Sixteen o'clock!_" cheeped the timepiece on the wall. "_Fifthday,Anti-Rabies Week, Practice-Eugenics Week; Happy 2073; Peep!_"

  * * * * *

  Ivan came on the screen, but John did not bother to remove his mask. Hesat down quickly and began speaking before any greeting could