Manhunt. Volume 9, Number 1, February 1961

He wondered how they’d been able to fool him so completely.

He wondered how they’d been able, in their condition, to think so clearly.

He wondered how long it would take for them to contaminate everything in the room; the food, the water... and him.

The Master Mind by Walter Monaghan

There were two down and one to go. The third was the big man, the master mind. I had to get to him in a hurry because there was a general alarm out on me... for murder.

* * *

I knew I was trapped the moment I looked out the window of my room. I recognized Monk’s car across the street, backing into a parking space only a few doors up from the hotel. I watched the car slide back to the curb, rock for a moment, then settled down. The front door opened and Monk stepped out. He looked down to the corner, then flashed a look up at my window. I knew he couldn’t see me behind the drape but I shrank back anyway. He walked across to the hotel entrance.

There was no use running for it now. If Monk would come in the front way like that it meant somebody else would be out back — waiting to gun me down like a scared rabbit if they could flush me from cover. These boys were top professionals, they played rough football, and they played for keeps. Well, so did we.

I swore to myself as I backed away from the window. This wasn’t the way I wanted it but now it couldn’t be helped. It had only taken me twenty minutes to tape the miniature microphone and recorder to my thighs and connect the fine wire to the switch to hide in my clothes, but that was twenty minutes too long. I finished dressing quickly — then slumped into the one stuffed chair in the room and leaned back as if I were dozing. The door was locked, but if Monk had a key he wouldn’t knock.

As I waited I wondered if it would have been better to duck right in and away — grab the transistor recorder and put it on somewhere else, instead of trying to do it here. Then I realized that it didn’t matter. Whoever was watching for me would have turned into a tail and followed me until he could reach Monk or one of the others and tell them where I was. This was quicker, it might even work out better. And I was all set now, or as set as I could be, with the little electronic ear all ready to go right to work. I slid my hand into my jacket pocket and turned the tiny switch on. Outside the door I heard the faint sound of a footstep on the soft carpet. I put my hands on the arms of the chair, in plain sight and palms down.

The doorknob turned silently, then it turned back when he found the door locked. A soft tap sounded.

“Huh? Yeah?” I grunted. “Who is it?”

“Telegram for you, Mr. Young.” The voice was much higher than Monk’s.

I almost laughed. One wrong move for Monk. He didn’t have two cents worth of imagination in his whole body. I was tempted to tell him to slide it under the door, but that would only delay things.

“Okay,” I called. “Right away.”

I shuffled over to the door noisily and turned the lock and pulled the door opened. I kept one hand high on the door and the other out front rubbing my eye.

“I wasn’t expecting a telegram from any...” I stopped talking and put the most surprised look on my face I could. “Monk! Am I glad to see you. Come on in.”

He was standing a little off to the right, his 38 automatic held up high in his left hand. It was aimed right at my heart. His face was set, his mouth grim, his eyes bird-bright.

“Monk, what is this?” I said. I thought my voice sounded surprised too.

“Shut up and get back in the room,” he growled.

I backed up fast, my hands still way out front. Monk followed me in and closed the door. Then he locked it carefully. He leaned against the bureau and motioned me into the chair I had just left.

“Now we can have a nice little talk without being disturbed,” he said. “Just sit there nice and quiet and answer my questions. Make one quick move and you’re a dead one. In fact, if you make a slow move you’re a dead one too. Understand?”

“Sure, Monk, sure,” I said. I tried to put a whine in my voice. “What’s this all about, anyway? Coming up here putting a gun on me — I thought I was supposed to be working for you.”

“Yeah, good buddy. I thought you were working for me too. Now I’m not so sure. Maybe you’re working for yourself, or for somebody besides me, or maybe you’re working against me, who knows? Now tell me just what happened this afternoon, right from the beginning. And the first time I catch you in a lie it’s just like you pull the trigger yourself. You don’t know just how much I know about what happened, so let’s have it, real straight.”

That’s where Monk was wrong. I knew more about every single move he’d made all afternoon than he did himself. In fact I think I knew more about Monk Saunders, past, present, and future, than he could ever know himself.