The Best of Argosy #8 - Minions of the Shadow Read online

  As he talked, he suddenly snapped off the desk lamp. A thin streak from a street light came from the edge of one of the curtains, but the room was otherwise in total darkness. If the voice was really his shadow, it would now be unable to answer, for there wasn’t enough light to form a shadow.

  “One is often skelly in one’s reasoning,” said the voice, from the other side of the room. “One casts a shadow, regardless of the dimness of the light which is shining on one.”

  Harvey swore and turned on the desk lamp. Then the thing was telling the truth. The thought suddenly appalled him. The voice had said that Fowler was a thief !

  “AND I can prove it, too!” said the voice, exultantly. “The proof’s right on your desk. Fowler figures on about ten percent of that appropriation to wind up in his bank account. The party fund will get ten more. And the taxpayers might get about fifty cents worth of value on the dollar — if they’re lucky. Why don’t you cut yourself in on some of that?”

  Harvey listened in amazement. What a thought! If that voice really came from his shadow, the shadow certainly had none of his honesty and sense of fairness. But just the same, it might be telling the truth. Harvey Nelson turned to the papers on the desk, suddenly suspicious.

  “What’s crooked?” he muttered, lifting, the first sheet of the budget estimate.

  “Payroll!” said the shadow derisively. “One million, four hundred thousand dollars!”

  “What’s the matter with that?”

  “Nothing. Only that over a quarter of it is allotted to dummies. Men who don’t exist. Why there’s supposed to be thirty-five inspectors in the Bureau of Weights and Measures alone. How many did you ever see?”

  “Well,” hedged Harvey. “They’re always out inspecting scales and such things. That’s why I never saw them all at once.”

  “Phooey! You can check them, can’t you? Go over to that file, and look over the list of names. There’s one called Plotsky. Look at the address, and then check it with the city directory.”

  Harvey did as he was told, slightly mystified but willing to be shown. Plotsky, it seemed, lived in a house in the forty-one-hundred block on Second Street. The directory claimed that the block was devoted to the site of a cemetery.

  “See that?” exulted the voice. “Fowler’s so brazen he don’t even bother to pick a real address. There’s a lot of stuff like that. There’s also plenty of corpses in that block who vote, too. All good party people. Why, with the in you’ve got...”

  But Harvey was no longer listening. He dug into the budget estimate and started taking it apart, piece by piece. The voice kept quiet while he worked, and in an hour he had sliced half a million dollars from the total.

  He made a separate list of the things he had cut. He wasn’t sure of all of them, but some he had managed to check with the aid of his files. Tomorrow he would investigate the remainder, at his office. Then he would present the new estimate to the city council — the lowest figure since the turn of the century.

  “WHAT’S the idea?” Mark inquired, with some asperity. “Do you have to plague the guy? All we want to do is to prevent him from discovering that body, so he won’t be suspected. Even better — maybe you can prevent the murder altogether.”

  “You keep your disembodied nose out of this!” Omega retorted. “I’ll do it my own way. And have a little fun in the bargain.”

  “But why all this stuff about being his shadow?” Mark wanted to know. “Can’t you just —”

  Omega chuckled eerily. “I’ve got to interfere a little bit at a time. So I invented the shadow idea to make it seem plausible to Nelson. There’s got to be a sensible reason for not letting him act entirely of his own accord.”

  Mark snorted. “Sensible! A shadow coming to life!”

  “I keep telling you that I don’t have much power, this far back in time. Not near enough to take a significant incident and change it bodily into something else. I’m comparatively weak, so I’ve got to make little changes which will accumulate into a major variation from the events which really hapened.”

  “Okay,” said Mark, grudgingly. “But I don’t like the idea of scaring people into thinking they’ve gone whacky.”

  Chapter 5: Let’s Go to Town

  UNFORTUNATELY for Mr. Fowler, he chose this particularly inopportune moment to visit Harvey Nelson. He was perspiring freely from the one-flight climb and wore a jovial smile as Harvey opened the door. It changed to a look of ludicrous surprise as a big hand grasped his lapels and jerked him inside.

  “Explain this!” demanded Harvey, shaking the sheaf of papers in his face. “Explain these items I’ve marked off!”

  Fowler sputtered incoherently as he examined the papers. His face took on a look of incredulity as he perused item after item.

  “My gosh, boy,” he finally breathed. “We’ve been duped!

  Harvey suddenly lost his fury. “Duped?” he asked. “How?”

  But Fowler didn’t answer immediately. A very realistic storm cloud was gathering on his chubby face as he strode back and forth, stopping occasionally to glare at the offending papers.

  “We’ve been duped, son,” he said, finally. “And I think I know who is behind this dastardly thing.” He paused and picked up the papers, stuffing them in an inside pocket. “You leave this to me, boy. I’ll move heaven and earth to uncover the guilty person!”

  Harvey Nelson suddenly felt as if a great burden had been lifted from his soul. The shadow, if not actually lying, had at least been mistaken. He ignored the small voice in his ear which said: “You’re being duped, you dupe!” and showed the wrathful Mr. Fowler to the door. Nobody could have been more surprised than he when Fowler tripped on the top step and went bouncing down the stairs.

  Mr. Fowler sputtered to a stop at the bottom landing. He looked up at the solicitous face of Harvey, an expression of hurt reproach on his own face.

  “You tripped me, son,” he accused. “After all I’ve done for you.”

  Harvey made hasty and horrified denials as Fowler went down the remaining three steps to the street, shaking his head unbelievingly. His jowls wagged to and fro, making him resemble a pug dog shaking himself after an unwanted bath.

  Harvey mounted the steps and entered his apartment, wrath bubbling within him. He sat in the chair by the desk and faced his shadow, which seemed to be leering at him flatly, from the wall.

  “You meddler!” he said in a quiet, deadly voice. “Fowler’s an honest man. Now I’ve hurt his feelings, thanks to YOU.”

  The shadow chuckled gleefully. “That ain’t all that hurts,” it said. “But as for Fowler’s honesty, phooey! He’s a crook, just as I said before. I can’t lie, you know.”

  “You can be mistaken,” retorted Harvey, clenching his fist and wishing he could sock a shadow.

  “I can, but I’m not,” stated the shadow. “I can feel his thoughts as well as yours, and I know he’s a crook.”

  Harvey came alert. “You can feel his thoughts? That’s absurd!”

  “No it’s not. When I fall on him, his thoughts get all jumbled in with yours. I’ve noticed that about people ever since I came to life.”

  Harvey looked mystified. “What do you mean when you fall on him?”

  “Just what I said,” retorted the shadow. “When he walked back and forth across the room, after, you showed him those papers, he kept passing you. The light being back of you, I fell on him. And when I did, I could read his thoughts. Kinda mixed up, though.”

  Harvey stroked his chin thoughtfully. “What did he think?”

  “He was scared, mostly. He kept thinking of what Pembroke would say. He was also trying to figure if it would be better to scrap the estimate and lose his graft, or to try to get rid of you, somehow, and put it through anyway. The last time I fell on him he’d made up his mind to burn all records of past years in your department, to prevent you from checking up. Then he figures to bring a bunch of men, at five dollars a throw, and introduce them to you as members of the various co
unty bureaus under your control. He intends to account for all the dummies on the payroll.”

  HARVEY slumped back in his chair. All the wind had been knocked out of his sails. Values he had cherished all his life were being knocked into a cocked hat. If Fowler, his idol of virtuous selflessness, was made of clay, then what things could he accept as true?

  Did nothing exist as it appeared on the surface? Did he have to suspect every hearty handshake, and assume that it masked a desire to knife him in the back? Did every honest face conceal evil and wickedness?

  “Of course not,” the shadow told him. “Lots of people are honest, the suckers. All you have to do is forget that a face reveals anything. That don’t mean that you have to go around suspecting every thing you see. It don’t mean that you have to figure that everybody who acts like your friend is really your enemy. People really like you, for some reason I can’t figure.

  “All it means is that you shouldn’t allow yourself to be impressed either way by appearances or actions. Don’t be so damned guileless, just remember that everybody is looking out for himself, then you can place a better value on people’s motives.

  “Come on, now; snap out of it, and let’s go out and have some fun. I feel like kicking a few people in the pants, or their corresponding garments.”

  Harvey sat quietly, not answering, his eyes focused dazedly on the wall. He noticed abstractedly that his shadow was moving, apparently dancing up and down impatiently, while he himself was motionless. But his mind was too occupied on other matters to pay any particular attention to such antics.

  “He’s going to burn the records,” he finally said, aloud. “I’ll put a stop to that!”

  He sprang to his feet, and failed to notice that his shadow failed to do likewise. Perversely it crouched. Suddenly Harvey felt himself slammed back into the chair. It seemed that a pile-driver had struck him somewhere south of the short ribs.

  “Listen to me, Rover Boy,” hissed his shadow. “You’re not going to start any campaign of reform around here. If you tried, first thing you know Pembroke would have one of his thugs slide a shiv between your ribs. And then where would I be? Nothing doing, son. I want to have some fun out of your life. Get on your coat now, and we’ll go out.”

  “YOU’RE making things worse!” wailed Mark. “Now that he suspects what’s going on, he’ll stick his neck out and Pembroke will take a slice at it.”

  “I’m stopping him from doing anything foolish, ain’t I?”

  Mark groaned. He knew what Omega considered fun. He’d seen several samples of it in the past hour or so, during which he and Omega had visited Nelson several times. These visits covered more than two weeks of Nelson’s life, and already Mark could see the effect they were having on his old friend.

  “But you’re changing his very character,” he protested. “That’s not necessary.”

  “Sure it is,” said Omega, calmly. “He’s been asleep all his life. His character needs changing.”

  “I almost wish I hadn’t started this thing,” Mark moaned.

  “All right,” said Omega brightly. “We’ll quit and go back to our own time. The air’s better anyway.”

  “As if you cared about the air,” said Mark, sulkily. “No! How about the murder? We can’t leave things that way.”

  “All right, then. Stop trying to interfere. And — Oh oh! Watch this!”

  Chapter 6: Here Goes Harvey!

  HARVEY got groggily to his feet. His breath was coming in short gasps, occasioned by a partial paralysis in the region of the solar plexus. And his brain was not functioning any too well. It had come as a shock that his shadow could exert such force, and especially that it could be directed against himself.

  “I’m tough stuff,” gloated the voice. “And listen: when we get outside, don’t talk to me out loud. If you want to say anything to me, just think it. Call me Omega when you want to think anything at me. Then I’m sure to pay attention.”

  Out on the street Harvey found himself directed around to the garage, where he kept his car.

  “We’re calling on your girl friend,” Omega announced. “Nice girl, by the way. Though for the life of me I can’t understand what she sees in you.”

  Harvey steered the car out of the garage, then suddenly shot down the street in second gear, rapidly accelerating. He was doing forty before he shifted into high. This wasn’t Harvey’s way of driving at all. He had always been a cautious driver.

  But Harvey Nelson was a hard man to lick. And Omega couldn’t drive a car and concentrate on Harvey’s thoughts at the same time. It was possible, therefore, for Harvey to snatch a hand from the gear-shift lever and turn off the ignition.

  Then he placed the hand on the steering wheel and strove mightily to bring the car to a safe stop. He succeeded, too, and learned a new fact about his shadow’s powers. Omega could overpower him only so long as he operated unexpectedly. When it came to a slow tug-of-war test of strength, Harvey was the stronger. Omega maintained a sullen silence as Harvey started the car again and drove on at his usual discreet pace.

  The sedan pulled up in front of an imposing apartment house and parked. Nelson suddenly began to have misgivings. This Omega person was obviously given to pranks of a most practical nature. And Harvey was always very decorous in the presence of the opposite sex. Especially Millicent.

  “Don’t worry,” came the voice in his ear. “I won’t do anything she won’t like.”

  Omega accompanied this assertion with a suggestive wallop in the small of the back; and Nelson’s wind went out with a blast which almost bulged the windshield. He panted a little and felt gingerly at the bruised portion of his ribs. But in spite of a throbbing in that region he felt reassured. Omega never told a lie, and it was altogether possible that he possessed enough personal honor to keep his promise. Harvey climbed from the car and entered the apartment house.

  Omega had said that he wouldn’t do anything Millicent wouldn’t like. Now if he only stuck to that... Harvey entered the elevator cage before he thought of something which caused his misgivings to return.

  “Omega!” he thought, as the cage began to rise. “Just what sort of thing do you suppose she likes?”

  “Quiet,” hissed Omega. “I know my women.”

  “How?”

  “Easy. In the past week you’ve been around plenty of women. Whenever the light cast me on them, I could read their thoughts. You know — though I find no good reason for it — they all seem to admire you. Your tall, stalwart figure; that shock of sandy hair; those rugged, honest features, and especially those baby blue eyes. Son, if you weren’t such a dope you could be cutting yourself in for plenty...”

  TWENTY-TWENTY was the number on Millicent’s door. Harvey rapped apologetically with his knuckles. At least he started to, but when the knuckles struck, they hit with resounding force.

  “Don’t be so damned timid,” rasped Omega. “Women like their men to be masterful. Go in there like you knew you were welcome. Don’t vacillate. Tell her you’re going to take her out and hit the hot spots. I want fun!”

  The voice chortled.

  After a moment the door opened. Millicent, apparently on the point of retiring, was clad sketchily in a negligee which evidently hadn’t been designed for warmth. Her face revealed her pleased surprise at the sight of Harvey, while the negligee revealed contours which shouldn’t have been concealed anyway.

  Harvey, about to open his mouth and apologize, for his unexpected call, suddenly felt himself catapulted across the threshold.

  His arms, extended to catch himself, encircled her slim figure. She looked up into his eyes and tilted her face at the proper angle. Harvey kissed her. Long and lingeringly. The sensation wasn’t at all disagreeable. But after a few seconds he evidently realized that this was anything but decorous behavior, and abruptly terminated the osculation. He stood, tongue-tied, while Millicent heaved a deep sigh.

  “Why Harvey!” she finally exclaimed, after finding enough breath to do so.


  “ALL you need now is bow, arrows, and diaper.”

  “Aw, the guy needed a push. He wasn’t having any fun. Too busy thinking about the proprieties and such. Before I’m through, he’ll know the facts of life.”

  “Could be... But two will get you five that Harvey Nelson teaches you something about sales resistance.”

  HARVEY turned a deep crimson. He fortunately caught himself on the point of lamely explaining that he’d tripped. That would never do now.

  Millicent disengaged herself after a minute and sat weakly down on a divan. She stared quizzically at Harvey, who appeared about to sit beside her. But Mr. Nelson remembered something at that moment. Omega wouldn’t make a good third on a divan. Harvey didn’t trust him.

  “Milly,” he said, hesitantly. “Let’s go out... Celebrate — or something.”

  Milly didn’t need any coaxing. She left the room with the promise that it would take only a minute to put on her glamour.

  Omega decided to intervene. “I’ve changed my mind,” he said. “We’ll stay.”

  “No we won’t,” Harvey muttered. “I’ve decided to go out now.”

  After a moment of silence Omega said: “All right. The night’s young. We go out, but don’t get any funny ideas about who’s boss.” A light dig in the ribs, accompanied by a wrenching twist of the nose, emphasized the words.

  Harvey was about to try a little experiment with the lights when Millicent appeared, radiantly beautiful, and apparently as happy as she could be. She smiled at him as if they shared a delightful secret. He couldn’t imagine what it was, but being a bit delirious himself, helped her on with her coat, and kissed her again before opening the door.

  The sedan was about to pull away from the curb when abruptly the night was shattered by the raucous wail of a fire siren. It was followed roaringly by two red trucks, one containing sundry ladders, hooks and half-dressed men, and the other heavy with pumping equipment and bosses.