"Yes. You told me."
"Maybe you'd like to tell Charlie."
"Tell him what we do with guys that turn yellow?"
"Yes."
"We rub them out."
"You see, Charlie?" said Duke, softly. "He learns fast, doesn't he? Quick on the uptake, Junior is. He knows all about it. He knows what to do with yellow rats."
Fat Charlie wobbled to his feet.
"Wait a minute, Duke," he pleaded. "Can't you take a rib? I was only kidding, Duke. I didn't mean it. You can see I didn't. I'm your friend, Duke. I'm hiding you out. Why, I could have turned stoolie weeks ago and put the heat on you if I wasn't protecting you. But I'm your friend. You can stay here as long as you want. Forever."
"Sing it, Charlie," said Duke. "Sing it louder and funnier." He turned to the robot. "Well, Junior? Do you think he's yellow?"
"I think he's yellow."
"Then maybe you'd better—"
Fat Charlie got the knife out of his sleeve with remarkable speed. It blinded Duke with its shining glare as the fat man balanced it on his thumb and drew his arm back to hurl it at Duke's throat.
Junior's arm went back, too. Then it came down. The steel fist crashed against Charlie's bald skull.
Crimson blood spurted as the fat man slumped to the floor.
It was pretty slick. Duke thought so, and Junior thought so — because Duke commanded him to believe it. But Lola didn't like it.
"You can't do this to me," she whispered, huddling closer to Duke in the darkness of her room. "I won't stay here with that monster, I tell you!"
"I'll only be gone a day," Duke answered. "There's nothing to worry about. The roadhouse downstairs is closed. Nobody will bother you."
"That doesn't frighten me," Lola said. "It's being with that thing. I've got the horrors thinking about it."
"Well, I've got to go and get the tickets," Duke argued. "I've got to make reservations and cash these big bills. Then we're set. Tomorrow night I'll come back, sneak you out of the house, and we'll be off. Mexico City next stop. I've made connections for passports and everything. In forty-eight hours we'll be out of this mess."
"What about Junior?"
"My silver stooge?" Duke chuckled. Til fix him before we leave. It's a pity I can't send him out on his own. He's got a swell education. He could be one of the best yeggs in the business. And why not? Look who his teacher was!"
Duke laughed. The girl shuddered in his arms.
"What are you going to do with him?" she persisted.
"Simple. He'll do whatever I say, won't he? When I get back, just before we leave, I'll lock him in the furnace. Then I'll set fire to this joint. Destroy the evidence, see? The law will think Charlie got caught in the flames, get me? There won't be anything left. And if they ever poke around the ruins and find Junior in the furnace, he ought to be melted down pretty good."
"Isn't there another way? Couldn't you get rid of him now, before you leave?"
"I wish I could, for your sake, baby. I know how you feel. But what can I do? I've tried to figure all the angles. You can't shoot him or poison him or drown him or chop him down with an axe. Where could you blow him up in private? Of course, I might open him up and see what makes him tick, but Junior wouldn't let me play such a dirty trick on him. He's smart, Junior is. Got what you call a criminal mind. Just a big crook — like me."
Again Duke laughed, in harsh arrogance.
"Keep your chin up, Lola. Junior wouldn't hurt you. He likes you. I've been teaching him to like you. He thinks you're pretty."
"That's what frightens me, Duke. The way he looks at me. Follows me around in the hall. Like a dog."
"Like a wolf you mean. Ha! That's a good one! Junior's really growing up. He's stuck on you, Lola!"
"Duke — don't talk like that. You make me feel — ooh, horrible inside!"
Duke raised his head and stared into the darkness, a curious half-smile playing about his lips.
"Funny," he mused. "You know, I bet the old Professor would have liked to stick around and watched me educate Junior. That was his theory, wasn't it? The robot had a blank chemical brain. Simple as a baby's. He was gonna educate it like a child and bring it up right. Then I took over and really completed the job. But it would have tickled the old Professor to see how fast Junior's been catching on. He's like a man already. Smart? That robot's got most men beat a mile. He's almost as smart as I am. But not quite — he'll find that out after I tell him to step into the furnace."
Lola rose and raced to the door. She flung it open, revealing an empty hallway, and gasped with relief.
"I was afraid he might be listening," she whispered.
"Not a chance," Duke told her. "I've got him down in the cellar, putting the dirt over Charlie."
He grasped Lola's shoulders and kissed her swiftly, savagely. "Now keep your chin up, baby. I'll leave. Be back tomorrow about eight. You be ready to leave then and we'll clear out of here."
"I can't let you go," whispered Lola, frantically.
"You must. We've gone through with everything this far. All you must do is keep a grip on yourself for twenty-four hours more. And there's one thing I've got to ask you to do."
"Anything, Duke. Anything you say."
"Be nice to Junior while I'm gone."
"Oooh — Duke — "
"You said you'd do anything, didn't you? Well, that you must do. Be nice to Junior. Then he won't suspect what's going on. You've gotta be nice to him, Lola! Don't show that you're afraid. He likes you, but if he gets wrong ideas, he's dangerous. So be nice to Junior."
Abruptly, Duke turned and strode through the doorway. His footsteps clattered on the stairs. The outer door slammed below. The sound of a starting motor drifted up from the roadhouse yard.
Then, silence.
Lola stood in the darkness, trembling with sudden horror, as she waited for the moment when she would be nice to the metallic Junior.
It wasn't so bad. Not half as bad as she'd feared it might be.
All she had to do was smile at Junior and let him follow her around.
Carefully suppressing her shudders, Lola prepared breakfast the next morning and then went about her packing.
The robot followed her upstairs, clanking and creaking.
"Oil me," Lola heard him say.
That was the worst moment. But she had to go through with it. "Can't you wait until Duke gets back tonight?" she asked, striving to keep her voice from breaking. "He always oils you."
"I want you to oil me, Lola," persisted Junior.
"All right."
She got the oilcan with the long spout and if her fingers trembled as she performed the office, Junior didn't notice it.
The robot gazed at her with his immobile countenance. No human emotion etched itself on the implacable steel, and no human emotion altered the mechanical tones of the harsh voice.
"I like to have you oil me, Lola," said Junior.
Lola bent her head to avoid looking at him. If she had to look in a mirror and realize that this nightmare tableau was real, she would have fainted. Oiling a living mechanical monster! A monster that said, "I like to have you oil me, Lola!"
After that she couldn't finish packing for a long while. She had to sit down. Junior, who never sat down except by command, stood silently and regarded her with gleaming eye lenses. She was conscious of the robot's scrutiny.
"Where are we going when we leave here, Lola?" he asked.
"Far away," she said, forcing her voice out to keep the quaver from it.
"That will be nice," said Junior. "I don't like it here. I want to see things. Cities and mountains and deserts. I would like to ride a roller coaster, too."
"Roller coaster?" Lola was really startled. "Where did you ever hear of a roller coaster?"
"I read about it in a book."
"Oh."
Lola gulped. She had forgotten that this monstrosity could read, too. And think. Think like a man.
"Will Duke take me on a roller coaster?" he asked.
"I don't know. Maybe."
"Lola."
"Yes."
"You like Duke?"
"Why — certainly."
"You like me?"
"Oh — why—you know I do, Junior."
The robot was silent. Lola felt a tremor run through her body. "Who do you like best, Lola? Me or Duke?"
Lola gulped. Something forced the reply from her. "I like you," she said. "But I love Duke."
"Love." The robot nodded gravely.
"You know what love is, Junior?"
"Yes. I read about it in books. Man and woman. Love."
Lola breathed a little easier.
"Lola."
"Yes?"
"Do you think anyone will ever fall in love with me?" Lola wanted to laugh, or cry. Most of all, she wanted to scream. But she had to answer.
"Maybe," she lied.
"But I'm different. You know that. I'm a robot. Do you think that makes a difference?"
"Women don't really care about such things when they fall in love, Junior," she improvised. "As long as a woman believes that her lover is the smartest and the strongest, that's all that matters."
"Oh." The robot started for the door.
"Where are you going?"
"To wait for Duke. He said he would come back today."
Lola smiled furtively as the robot clanked down the hallway stairs.
That was over with. Thinking back, she'd handled things rather well. In a few hours Duke would return. And then — goodbye, Junior!
Poor Junior. Just a silver stooge with a man's brain. He wanted love, the poor fish! Well — he was playing with fire and he'd be burned soon enough.
Lola began to hum. She scampered downstairs and locked up, wearing her gloves to avoid leaving any telltale fingerprints.
It was almost dark when she returned to her room to pack. She snapped on the light and changed her clothes.
Junior was still downstairs, patiently waiting for Duke to arrive.
Lola completed her preparations and sank wearily onto the bed. She must take a rest. Her eyes closed.
Waiting was too much of a strain. She hated to think of what she had gone through with the robot. That mechanical monster with its man-brain, the hateful, burring voice, and steely stare — how could she ever forget the way it asked, "Do you think anyone will ever fall in love with me?"
Lola tried to blot out recollection. Just a little while now and Duke would be here. He'd get rid of Junior. Meanwhile she had to rest, rest. . . .
Lola sat up and blinked at the light. She heard footsteps on the stairs.
"Duke!" she called.
Then she heard the clanking in the hallway and her heart skipped a beat. The door opened very quickly and the robot stalked in. "Duke!" she screamed.
The robot stared at her. She felt his alien, inscrutable gaze upon her face.
Lola tried to scream again, but no sound came from her twisted mouth.
And then the robot was droning in a burring, inhuman voice.
"You told me that a woman loves the strongest and the smartest," burred the monster. "You told me that, Lola." The robot came closer. "Well, I am stronger and smarter than he was."
Lola tried to look away but she saw the object he carried in his metal paws. It was round, and it had Duke s grin.
The last thing Lola remembered as she fell was the sound of the robot's harsh voice, droning over and over, "I love you, I love you, I love you." The funny part of it was, it sounded
almost
human.
I
T WAS TWILIGHT
when Doctor Jerome reached the ogre's castle. He moved through the fairy tale land of a child's picture book—a realm of towering mountain crags, steeply slanting roads ascending to forbidden heights, clouds that hovered like bearded wraiths watching his progress from on high.
The castle itself was built of dream stuff. Nightmare qualities predominated in the great gray bulk, rearing its crumbling battlements against a sudden, blood-streaked sky. A chill wind sang its weird welcome as Doctor Jerome advanced toward the castle on the hilltop, and an autumn moon rose above the topmost tower.
As the moon stared down on man and castle alike, a black cloud burst from the ruined battlements and soared squeaking to the sky. Bats, of course. The final touch of fantasy.
Doctor Jerome shrugged and trudged across weed-choked flagstones in the castle courtyard until he reached the great oaken door.
Now to raise the iron knocker . . . the door would swing open slowly, on creaking hinges . . . the tall, gaunt figure would emerge . . . "Greetings, stranger. I am Count Dracula!"
Doctor Jerome grinned. "Like hell," he muttered.
For the whole fantasy collapsed when he thought of Sebastian Barsac. This might be an ogres castle, but Barsac was no ogre.
Nine years ago, at the Sorbonne, he'd made friends with shy, fat little Barsac. Since then they had taken different paths —but it was impossible for Doctor Jerome to imagine his old companion as the ideal tenant of a haunted castle.
Not that Barsac didn't have some queer ideas. He'd always been a little eccentric, and his theories on biological research were far from orthodox but Jerome could bank on one thing. Barsac was too fat to be a vampire, and too indolent to become a werewolf.
Still, there was something strange about this invitation, coming after a three years' lapse in correspondence. Merely a scribbled note, suggesting that Doctor Jerome come down for a month or so to look over experimental data — but that was Barsac's usual way of doing things.
Ordinarily, Doctor Jerome would ignore such a casual offer, but right now it came as a lifesaver. For Doctor Jerome was strapped. He'd been let out of the Foundation, he owed three installments on his rent, and he had — literally — no place to lay his head. By pawning the remnants of his precious equipment he'd managed to cross the Channel and reach Castle Barsac. A month in a real castle with his old friend — it might lead to
something
.
So Jerome had seized Opportunity before the echo of its knocking had died away. And now he banged the iron knocker, watched the castle door swing open. It
did
squeak, a bit.