To Invade New York.... Page 3

anguish thatwill arise! The roar of frustration and then anger as the thousands pileupon the thousands at rush hour! The screaming and pushing as multitudespress forward at each subway station, demanding their rights of ingressas good citizens, while more multitudes press from the incoming trainsdemanding their rights of egress! Unquestionably the entire subwaysystem will collapse in a matter of minutes! What was it you saidbefore?"

  "_Ab homine homini periculum quotidianum?_"

  "And how!" He lit a cigar and puffed away for a few moments, filling myroom with its foul odor. "Ingenious, eh?" he said finally.

  "But to what end?" I asked. "If anarchy rules the city, how couldwhoever is behind this plan assume control?"

  He leaned back in the chair, disappearing from view. "That is not partof the scheme. The purpose is to arouse the rest of the country to whathas happened to its greatest metropolis. Every eye, ear, radio andtelevision station will be turned towards Manhattan. The armed forces,all the resources of the government will, within hours, pour into thecity, or try to. And at precisely that moment the rest of the countrywill be childishly open to invasion! If this plan succeeds, professor,the United States will be conquered within a matter of days, withremarkably little destruction or loss of life."

  I stared at the little figure in the chair. Was he serious? Moreimportant--was he sane? "Who is planning this invasion?"

  "Who else?"

  "Why tell me this story? Why not go to the authorities?"

  "I need sufficient proof, first. Unfortunately, matters are coming to ahead far sooner than I expected. In addition, my disposing of one oftheir men earlier," he tapped his left arm significantly, "has left mein a vulnerable position. I dare not go to the authorities myself, forfear of exposing myself. And believe me"--he snapped his fingers--"Iwould not get as far as the nearest policeman. However, professor, youare unsuspected. _You_ could report this plan with no danger toyourself."

  "Enough! My dear Mr. Rumplestein-O'Grady, do you expect me to chargeinto a police station and blurt out this ridiculous story?"

  "I don't expect you to charge anywhere, professor. Not without proof. Iwill get the proof for you, by tomorrow. Then--as I suspect--if _I_ amunable to warn the authorities, I will expect _you_ to do so. In themeantime, make use of these when you go to the university, tomorrow. Ifound them on the body of the man I disposed of."

  He dropped several tinkly objects on my desk, rose, and, without anotherword, was gone. I picked up the items. They were subway tokens. Ihurried to the window and glanced out. I could see the little manhurrying down the street, his head bobbing up and down like a swimmer inthe ocean. Then, my mind in a turmoil, I turned out the light and wentto bed. Fortunately, regardless of the press of circumstances, I havenever had difficulty in falling asleep and tonight was no exception.

  * * * * *

  At seven-thirty the next morning I arose, dressed, and prepared mybreakfast. I thought of the events of the preceding evening. Had it notbeen for the bloodied towel with which I had washed the little man'swounds, I might have dismissed the entire incident as a dream. Icontinued to think about it while walking to the subway. I beratedmyself for taking the story seriously even for a moment, as I dropped atoken into the turnstile and pressed forward. I gasped in sudden pain asthe turnstile, still locked, pushed into my midriff. I glanced at thetoken in the slot. It had not dropped. I pressed it down. It refused tobudge. I tried several other tokens, all with the same result. By thistime half a dozen people had gathered behind me, making angry remarks.Flustered, I backed away, bought a token from the cashier, and rode tothe University. Then it was I recalled that I had tried to use thetokens my strange visitor had placed on my desk before parting from me,and which I had, without thinking, picked up in the morning.

  All that day I pondered over the tokens and the odd tale of Mr.Rumplestein-O'Grady. I could still give it no credence, but I _was_disturbed. On my way home, that evening, as is my wont, I bought anewspaper and began reading it casually. Just before reaching mystation, I came across a small item on one of the inside pages. Itstated that a small, bearded man, wearing a checkered suit, had beenfound in the river that morning, stabbed. There were no identificationpapers on him, only a pocket full of subway tokens which, policebelieved, had been used to weight down the body.

  "Good heavens!" I said aloud. Several passengers raised their eyebrows.I flushed, hurried out of the train and to my apartment where I fellinto my chair, shocked and shaking. No doubt the body was that ofRumplestein. The poor little man! What did this mean? Could his storyconceivably have been true?

  The knock on my door startled me. "Professor, are you home?" It was mylandlady. When I opened the door she handed me an envelope with my namewritten on it in small, neat letters. "A little fellow with a beard gaveit to me early this morning, after you'd gone. He said to be sure yougot it. Then he ran away." She shook her head in obvious disapproval ofsuch actions.

  After she left I tore open the envelope and read the contents.

  "By the time you see this chances are excellent that I shall be dead.However, that is of little importance. I have found the proof weneed--their distribution plant. It's an old warehouse. I am going thereto see if I cannot obtain concrete proof--perhaps a pocketful of tokens.If I fail, you must carry on. Farewell, professor. It was a privilegeknowing you."

  Beneath the message was an address which I recognized as being in one ofthe less reputable sections of the city. There was no signature.

  What to do! What to do! I no longer doubted the truth of little Mr.Rumplestein-O'Grady's story. But what to do about it? I considered goingto the warehouse, but the thought of high adventure sends nothing butennui coursing through my veins. Besides, there was undoubtedly someelement of danger in that course. The police! Naturally! They would knowhow to deal with this situation and perhaps even avenge poor Mr.Rumplestein's death. Filled with righteous anger and indignation Ihurried out and went to the nearest police station.

  In retrospect I can understand the reaction of the desk sergeant to mywild-eyed claim that the city was in imminent danger of invasion and hemust do something about it at once!

  "How much, now, have ye had to drink?" he asked calmly.

  When I swore that I was as sober as he, he grew purple with rage andthreatened to have me thrown into jail for insulting a police officerunless I disappeared immediately.

  All that night and the next day I tried to reach someone in authoritywith my information. The New York City police were admirably calm aboutmy information. My actions and voice, however, seemed to disturb themgreatly. When I insisted they investigate the warehouse, they told methe officer on the beat would do so in good time. When I suggested theyexamine the tokens found on the body they informed me that these hadbeen turned over to the Property Clerk and if not claimed within ninetydays would be given to the PAL.

  As a last desperate measure I went to the New York office of the FederalBureau of Investigation and presented myself to one of the Federal men.I told him my story. He looked at me calmly, then pored through a thickbook on his desk. He closed one eye thoughtfully and peered at methrough the other.

  "There's really nothing," he said, "that we can do about it."

  "Don't you believe me?"

  "That has nothing to do with it. According to regulations this isstrictly a municipal affair. It doesn't come within the jurisdiction ofthe FBI. And we wouldn't want to step on municipal toes." He closed thebook smartly.

  I was crushed. I couldn't believe it. Finally I said, "_Serum estcavendi tempus in mediis malis!_"

  "What?"

  "'It is too late to be cautious when in the very midst of dangers.'Seneca said that two thousand years ago."

  The young man rose and nodded towards the door. "Good day, professor.And an _E pluribus unum_ to you!"

  That was an hour ago.

  * * * * *

  Professor Clarke stopped talking. Jimmy and I said nothing. The onlysound was the hu
m of traffic outside. "And that is the way it is,gentlemen," said Professor Clarke, finally. "_Quando cadet Roma, cadetet mundus._ When Rome falls--the world!" He sipped the beer which by nowhad gone flat. "Do you believe me?"

  Jimmy and I exchanged glances. "Have another beer," said Jimmy. "On thehouse."

  "I see." Professor Clarke sighed. "Well, I cannot really blame you,gentlemen. I only hope you do not live to regret it." He got up and puta coin on the bar. Jimmy went to make change.

  Then we became aware of automobile horns blasting steadily on a risingnote of urgency. Jimmy and I ran outside. Traffic was piling up rapidlyin the street. And as far as we could see in every direction, all thetraffic lights had turned green!

  "Holy cow!" said Jimmy. "He was telling the truth!"

  "So it appears," said a voice at my elbow. I turned. It was theprofessor. There was a sad, wistful expression on his face. "_Quod eratdemonstrandum_," he said softly. "Q.E.D." Then, as the horns got louder,and we could hear drivers cursing, he strode down the street and aroundthe corner.

  "Professor!" I yelled. "Wait!" I started to run after him when the hornsstopped blowing. Cars started moving again, and many of the trafficlights had turned red.

  Jimmy wiped his face in obvious relief. "Must have been a shortcircuit," he said hoarsely. "But for a minute--"

  "Yes," I said. "A short circuit. Or maybe--a dry run to test facilitiesfor the big day?"

  Neither one of us said anything, but we both had the same thought as wereturned to the bar. I picked up the subway token the professor had leftthere. I flipped it in the air several times and looked at Jimmy. Henodded in agreement. I went out and headed for the nearest subway.

  Q.E.D.?

  Transcriber's Note:

  This etext was produced from _Analog Science Fact & Fiction_ August 1963. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.