Conquest of the Planet of the Apes, стр. 28
TWELVE
Inspector Kolp punched buttons on his desk top for the sixth time—and got exactly the same response. The raw buzzing signal made him slam his fleshy fist on the computer printout lying next to the rows of buttons.
Late afternoon sunlight streamed through the doorway leading to the terrace where Senor Armando had fallen to his death days ago. Once more Kolp tried calling the number. Once more a busy signal answered him. He was just programming a call to the supervisory center of the phone company when Hoskyns rushed in.
“For God’s sake, what’s going on, a red alert?”
“In a way,” Kolp said curtly. “At least I got hold of you. I’ll be damned if I can get a circuit into Ape Management.”
He shoved the printout across the desk. “That’s a routine report on arriving shipments at A.M. Of course, with the marvels of computers at our command, they’re only weeks late sending copies to our permanent file. A bright kid on one of the intelligence desks caught an intriguing error. See if you can spot it yourself.”
Hoskyns frowned, riffled the accordion-folded sheets, and shook his head. “Check shipment five-oh-seven I-for-Indonesia ex Borneo,” Kolp suggested.
The other investigator found the data, studied it, and still looked puzzled. “A batch of orangutans and a chimpanzee. So?”
“So,” Kolp replied quietly, “my hot shot downstairs remembered an interesting bit of incidental information. There are no chimpanzees in Borneo.”
“No—?” Mouth open, Hoskyns watched Kolp nod slowly.
“I’ve been trying to get a hookup with Ape Management for the last ten minutes,” Kolp complained. “All I get is the busy signal.”
“The operations suite is empty—Breck’s out of the building at another meeting. Why don’t we try the direct video link to the director’s office?”
Kolp’s nod signified his agreement. He and Hoskyns left the office and traveled down several floors, where Kolp let himself into the operations suite with his personal key. Off the main room was a smaller, locked chamber containing communications equipment for the governor’s own use. Kolp punched in the appropriate call digits, drumming his fleshy fingers on the edge of the screen till it lit. A stylish executive secretary appeared.
“Office of the Director. May I help you?”
“Get Dr. Chamberlain on his monitor right away,” Kolp ordered.
“I’m sorry, sir,” replied the secretary. “Dr. Chamberlain is tied up in an urgent staff meeting—”
Kolp hit the signal that activated the lens to transmit his own image. The secretary saw Kolp’s face appear on the monitor at her end of the connection.
“This is Chief Inspector Kolp and I want Chamberlain. Now.”
“Yes, sir. I’m very sorry I—wait, I’ll put you on hold.”
The screen displayed a changing pattern of colored lines while the audio track played soothing string music. Kolp fretted until the hold cleared and the strained face of a scholarly looking man appeared. The man wore a smock whose lapels were edged with blue piping.
“My deepest apologies for the delay, Inspector,” Chamberlain said. “But we’re having hell’s own time out here.”
“I gather,” Kolp answered, sarcastically. “On the audio board, I got nothing but a busy signal. I want your Indonesian file for last month. Specifically, I want the records of disposition of a chimpanzee from five-oh-seven I-for-Indonesia ex Borneo.”
Dr. Chamberlain’s white eyebrows shot up. “Borneo? But there are no—”
“Chimpanzees in Borneo,” Kolp finished. “That’s correct. However, your records show you processed one. It went past your computer experts, everyone at your end, Doctor. We spotted it.” Out of range of the pick-up lens, Hoskyns smiled at Chamberlain’s obvious discomfort. “Please get the file and tell me what happened to that chimpanzee.”
“Yes, immediately.”
Dr. Chamberlain left his desk hurriedly. Kolp and Hoskyns heard him snapping an order out of camera range. Then the director of Ape Management slipped back into his chair. The creases in his forehead indicated his tension. “The file will be here momentarily,” he promised.
“This is Hoskyns, Doctor,” said the other inspector, moving briefly in range of the pick-up lens. “What the hell’s tying up your lines?”
“Overload,” Chamberlain admitted unhappily. “In the past few days, the curve representing apes returned for reconditioning has turned upward alarmingly. In practical terms, that means we can’t handle the work. And no one can explain the reason for the abrupt upswing. But the incidents of ape rebellion have just about quadrupled. Their owners are shipping them back wholesale.”
Kolp’s expression grew more grim. “Doctor Chamberlain, why wasn’t State Security informed about this situation?”
“We’ve been sending through computer reports—”
“Which we’ll be lucky to see by next Christmas! Damn it, Doctor, it’s your responsibility to inform my section directly.”
Chamberlain licked his lips. “I considered it. But I decided against making a personal report since a certain percentage of our overload is directly attributable to Governor Breck’s order for reconditioning of his so-called Achilles list.”
“A certain percentage,” Kolp said. “What percentage?”
Chamberlain swallowed hard. “Forty-one, forty-two, on that order.”
“And the rest represents reconditionings because of acts of rebellion by apes not on the list?”
“That’s correct. We simply haven’t the facilities to cope. We’re sending all shipments elsewhere.”
With a helpless gesture, Dr. Chamberlain looked toward the lens.
“Governor Breck should have been made aware of the situation!” Kolp fumed.
Chamberlain stiffened slightly. “The governor helped cause it!”
“Would you care to have me put that into a memorandum to him?” Kolp challenged, his voice silky and threatening.
Chamberlain began to stroke his cheek nervously. “No, no, certainly not. I—I realize the governor acted because his judgment suggested massive reconditioning of those on the Achilles list was essential. We’re carrying it forward as best we can. But half my staff is ready to resign. Most of them are working two shifts—”
“That’s your problem, and you’d better handle it,” Kolp warned. “From now on I want a direct, daily report on the overload situation. Not through channels, but a written report, from you, via courier. Or else,” Kolp concluded on that silky note, “your lucrative salary may wind up in someone else’s account, Dr. Chamberlain. Do you understand me?”
The scientist looked white around the eyes. “Y—yes, sir.”
Normally Kolp would have been pleased to see a man of Chamberlain’s experience and credentials break under the slightest threat from State Security. But he had no time to be pleased. His mind was racing over the implications of the situation he’d just uncovered. In a way, he was in a spot similar to Chamberlain’s. How should he present the alarming facts to Governor Breck, who reacted with rage—and punitive action—toward anyone who permitted the smooth facade of his personal domain to be ruptured?
Quickly, Kolp’s mind evolved a possible solution. The key was to concentrate on locating the talking ape—an assignment which that black man MacDonald had so far botched. MacDonald had come up with precisely nothing. Thus State Security could take credit . . .
A female hand offered Chamberlain a folder. He riffled through its contents, then sat back with a look of astonishment.
“Gentlemen, according to our records, the chimpanzee in question was sold to Governor Breck himself.”
After getting over the shock, Inspector Kolp finally permitted himself a smile. He thanked Chamberlain in a perfunctory way, broke the connection, and turned to Hoskyns.
“Come on, we’re going to find the Governor.”