The Final Figure Read online

who had made the last purchase.

  When the clerk had wrapped it up, and he had paid for it, the Generalasked to see the manager, who proved to be a pleasantly tweedyindividual. He produced his card and said, "I'm afraid this man MacReedyhas violated security-regulations. Where else is his stuff marketed?"

  The manager's expression was not friendly. He said, "Mr. MacReedy's_miniatures_ are marketed nowhere else; he has an exclusive contractwith us." He evidently resented the General's gruff approach as much asthe General resented not being addressed by title.

  _Civilians!_ the General thought. _The damned fools don'tunderstand--they haven't the slightest idea...._

  Aloud he said, "Where can I find Mr. MacReedy? I'm afraid I'm going tohave to talk to him."

  "Uncle Angus? He lives next door. I'm going home now--I can show you."

  The General had forgotten the male moppet. He looked down in surprise,then up at the manager, who said, "It's quite true. This is Toby. Hehelps Mr. MacReedy; he's a collector himself in a small way."

  The General took Toby back with him to the hotel. He knew he should beburning up the wires to Washington with news of his horrendousdiscovery, but somehow he wanted to see it through himself--as far as hewas able. Besides, there were certain puzzling facets that wouldscarcely look plausible in the dehydrated prose of an official report toSecurity.

  It smacked almost of the supernatural. Eyeing his small guest, who washappily and rather messily devouring a piece of French pastry,accompanied by a bottle of ginger-ale--sent up by room service--theGeneral suppressed a chill that rose from his coccyx to his cervicalvertebrae.

  Like most veteran men of action, the General did not decry thesupernatural--such decrying was the property of armchair logicians. Inthe course of his long career he had seen too many things that defiedlogic or logical explanation. He said, "Ready to take off, Toby?"

  "Yes, sir," said the lad. He was properly impressed with the General'srank--revealed to him by the assistant manager in the lobby. Then, witha sudden shadow of anxiety, "You aren't going to arrest Uncle Angus, areyou, sir?"

  The General managed a chuckle. No sense in getting the lad scared. "No,I just want to talk to him."

  "I'll go with you," the lad offered. "Most grownups have a hard timetalking to Uncle Angus. Even dad...." Whatever was his father's problemwith the prophetic model-maker remained unstated, as Toby managed towrap lips and teeth around a large final piece of pastry. He then wentto the bathroom to wash his hands before they went downstairs, to wherethe General's car was waiting.

  2

  The sight of the huge olive-drab Cadillac limousine with its two-starredflag and white trimmed and be-fourragered sergeant-chauffeur seemed toawe Toby, who lapsed into mere occasional monosyllables during the drivethrough the late afternoon to his Long Island home. It was as if, sincethe General was in mufti, the lad had not quite been able to believe inhis reality--until official car and chauffeur offered proof.

  This was quite all right with the General, who was desperately trying torearrange the chaos of his thoughts into some sort of order. He knew hewas being dangerously imaginative for a man in his position. But what ifthis MacReedy actually could foresee the future, at least in itsmilitary manifestations?

  Granting this impossibility, how could the man be used? The Generalshuddered at the thought of "selling" anyone with such a gift to theCombined Chiefs of Staff--those quiet-eyed, low-voiced, strictlypragmatic men on whom, perhaps, the future of country and worlddepended. Even if they by some wild chance accepted the impossibility,he knew full well what would be the tenor of their thoughts--andtherefore of their questions.

  One of them would be sure to say, "Very well, General, but if we put ourplanning in the hands of this man--seeking a short route to decisivesuperiority of armament--how do we know he won't make a mistake, or leadus up the garden path? How do we know he hasn't been planted for thisvery purpose?"

  How did he know? The General decided he didn't. Yet how could any manwith such a private power be permitted to exercise his rights of freecitizenship? He damned MacReedy, the enemy, the world and himself, andgot resettled in his corner of the soft rear seat.

  They had left the sun behind them, setting in a dust-pink mist behindthe soft-edged towers of Manhattan. By the time they reached Flushing ithad begun to snow--big soft flakes whose crystalline dissimilaritieswere almost visible to the naked eye as they settled against the carwindows into wet evanescence. Up ahead the twin windshield-wipers groundthem silently and methodically into wet-rimmed circle segments.

  "I hope it lasts," said Toby from his window. "I got a sled forChristmas. I haven't been able to use it."

  "You'll get your chance," said the General. Damn it, he wondered, whatkind of man was Angus MacReedy--if he was a man. Somehow the silentsnow, the waning traffic, the oncoming twilight, combined into a senseof ominous portent. It was as if the car were standing still, while aperilous future rushed toward it.

  "We turn left at the next traffic light, sir," said Toby.

  They turned. They skirted a thinly-settled swampy area on a narrow road,against a background of scrubby pines. The sprawling metropolis mighthave been on some other continent, some other planet. They met only onecar--a long black sedan, that slithered past them on the skiddyroad-surface, missing them by inches.

  The house where they pulled to a halt at Toby's direction was not large.It had been put up early in the century, and its motif was that of thehigh-gabled Swiss chalet. Mercifully the snow gave it a touch ofquaintness, almost of rightness, despite the absence of lowering alps.Toby pointed to a similar structure about a hundred yards further downthe road. "That's where I live," he said.

  * * * * *

  MacReedy answered the door. He was a tall, angular man with a long,angular face--from which small blue eyes peered alertly. He wore a greyglen-plaid reefer that was buttoned wrong, a dark blue-flannel shirt andcovert slacks that needed a press. He said, "Hello, Toby--you've broughtcompany, I see."

  "This is General Wales," said the lad very politely. "General--UncleAngus."

  The General had a ridiculous fugitive memory--"Alice, mutton--mutton,Alice." He shook hands with the model-maker.

  "Honored, General," said MacReedy. He ushered them into a living room,whose desk and tables and mantel were literally covered with miniatureAmerican soldiery. He said, "Sorry the place is such a mess"--picking upthe morning paper from the carpet beside a worn but comfortable-lookingeasy-chair--"but I wasn't expecting callers. I just had to boot out somesort of a mad Russian."

  "_What!_" The general didn't mean to bark but couldn't help it.

  MacReedy grinned quietly and said, "This fellow said he was assistantmilitary attache, or something. Offered me all kinds of money to do somework for him."

  "What did he look like?" the General asked.

  MacReedy, filling a corn-cob pipe that appeared to be near the close ofits short life, paused to say, "Like nothing special--not nearly asdistinguished as you, General. Blond, chunky fellow with a bit ofaccent. Not a lot, but enough."

  The General exchanged glances with Toby. He knew, without asking, thatthe boy was thinking the same as himself; it was the man who had boughtthe XT-101 model in the shop earlier that afternoon.

  MacReedy got his pipe going and said through a small blue cloud ofsmoke, "How does the exhibit look, Toby? Have they got it right?"

  "Pretty good, Uncle Angus," said the lad seriously. "They got theMexican and Black Hawk War units mixed up, but I guess we can't blamethem for that."

  "I guess we can't," said MacReedy. He turned to the General, added,"Now, sir, what can I do for you? Or need I ask?"

  "I have a hunch you know pretty well what I'm after," said the General."My predecessor must have given you some idea."

  "I've been afraid of this," said MacReedy with a sigh. "It's what Ideserve for trying to show off to Toby."

  "I don't understand," said the General.

  "I was trying to show Toby how g
ood I was," he said, ruffling the boy'scurly hair. "Then, when I got that seventy-five AA-gun doped out aheadof time--and it proved correct--I had to go one step further. I shouldnever have let the model out of the house."

  "I'd like to see your workshop," said the General.

  Angus MacReedy removed his pipe and said, "Come along."

  * * * * *

  The basement ran the length and width of the house. Although furnace andfuel-storage were walled off in a separate room at one end it stillprovided a sizable workroom, enough for three long wooden tables. On oneof them