Three men on Venus ... lolling about in their
shirt sleeves and breathing in an atmosphere of
chlorine and ammonia that was sure to kill a man
in thirty seconds. The pictures lied! ... they
must lie! Trick photography?... Inquisitive Carl
Keating found the true answer even stranger.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories November 1953.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The envelope was addressed in a bold sprawling hand that barely leftroom for the seventy-five cent special delivery stamp in the upperright hand corner. It was a nice stamp—a blue one commemorating thefiftieth anniversary of Harvey's first landing on Mars. Carl Keatingtore it open. Inside was a single sheet of good paper, typewritten onone side. The message read:
Dear Mr. Keating;
Must see you at once.
Norman Hamlin
He'd barely slid the letter back in its wrapper when the desk phonerang. Automatically he pushed the view-plate to a respectful fifteeninches and threw in the video. The screen swirled for a moment in amilky blur, then abruptly a man's head and shoulders jumped into focus.He was a lean, angular-faced man, with thin shoulders and thinner lips,which at the moment were set in a Lincolnish smile.
"I'm Dr. Hamlin," the face in the screen announced. "You got my letter?"
Carl nodded. "I have your letter doctor, but I'm afraid you have thewrong man. I can't imagine what you'd want to see ME about."
The image on the screen expanded as Norman Hamlin leaned toward theview-plate. "You are Major Carl Keating, retired?" the mouth asked.
Carl pushed the instrument back hoping the other man would do thesame. "Retired as of last Tuesday," he said, "at the tender age ofthirty-six. What's on your mind, doctor?"
The mouth got bigger till it filled the entire screen. "Major Keating,would it be possible for you to come out to Long Island tonight?"
"It would not!"
"Please it's...."
"Dr. Hamlin," Carl said not bothering to keep the annoyance out of hisvoice, "in the first place I don't even know who you are; in the secondplace I'm packing for a vacation in Paris; and in the third place ifthere's anything I detest, it's talking down someone's throat. Now ifyou don't mind...."
"Wait!" The image on the screen diminished, till over the narrowshoulders Carl could make out a book-lined study, and beyond that asunken living room. "It's important—very important."
"So's my vacation."
"Suppose I were to make it worth while to postpone your vacation?"
"I'm afraid my while is worth more than you could offer," Keating saidbluntly.
"I can offer five thousand dollars," Norman Hamlin said. "It's yoursjust for coming out to Wading River tonight and listening to what Ihave to say."
"You mean you'll pay five thousand dollars just for the privilege oftalking to me?"
Hamlin nodded. "You listen to what I tell you. Then, if you aren'tinterested, you pick up your five thousand and leave. It's as easy asthat."
Keating reached across the desk and scanned the envelope. "I have theaddress," he said. "I'll be right out."
It was the peak of the rush hour when he left the apartment. Overhead,a congested swarm of copter traffic buzzed like an angry beehive. Ablock away was a monorail kiosk. Ever conscious of the strange feel ofhis new civvies, Keating entered it and boarded a Huntington express.From there it was only ten minutes to Wading River by copter-cab. Dr.Hamlin had left the lawn lights burning, and even before he'd paid hisfare,