Butterfly 9
Chapter V

Public Domain

Between Snader and Ann in the front seat, Jeff held Ann’s hand and winked encouragingly at her.

“Snader, I guess you’re right,” he said. “This is a good deal for me. I was sort of washed up in my own time.”

“Now you smart,” Snader said. “Your little lady? She smart, too?”

“Yep. By the way, how come you got us out so early? It’s only nine o’clock. Bullen said he’d expect me at eleven.”

“We go to time station first,” Snader explained shortly. “I pick up documents there. Breakfast there.”

“Good,” Jeff said cheerfully. A plan was taking shape in his mind. “All I’m worried about is my speed-up pills. Can I get some at the station? I’m almost out.” He pressed Ann’s knee warningly.

“Speed-up pills?” Snader looked suspicious--but then, he always did. “What you mean?”

“Don’t you have speed-up tablets?” Jeff put surprise in his voice. “Stuff to activate the half of the brain that normally doesn’t work. You must have them.”

“What they look like?”

Jeff fumbled for his silver pillbox. “They’re the big red and yellow capsules.” He handed the box to Snader. “Don’t spill them. I only have three left. Where can I get more like those? I won’t be nearly as good without them.”

Keeping one hand on the wheel, Snader glanced down. The box had a jumble of black vitamin pills and red and yellow sleeping tablets.

“You say these big ones help brain?” he asked warily.

“They speed up the reflexes--they make everything seem clear and easy. Please give them back before you spill them.”

Snader thumbed the red and yellow capsules out and handed the box back without them. “I keep these.” He moved his head craftily to watch Jeff’s face in the mirror.

Jeff was ready. He registered rage and fear. “Gimme those!” he shouted. “I need them.”

Snader laughed. “Don’t tell me orders. Easy now. You want to wreck car?”

“I’ll wreck us all if you don’t give those back!” He grabbed Snader’s hand.

Ann screamed as the car swerved, and horns blared from behind. Snader clapped the capsules into his mouth and gripped the wheel with both hands.

“I take what I want,” he said, gulping down the pills. “You give trouble, I turn you over to police.”


Jeff slumped down with a groan and buried his face in his hands to hide a grin. It had worked. How long would the nembutal take to hit Snader? It might act too fast. Jeff wondered what he could do then.

Luckily, there was only a short distance to go. Even so, the car was weaving as they whirled off the express road into Green Thru-Way. When they pulled up in front of the barred house, Snader tumbled out and lurched up the walk without a glance at his prisoners.

Jeff and Ann followed, and Jeff stood close behind while Snader fumbled inside his shirt for the key. When he found it and reached toward the door, his knees buckled and Jeff caught him.

“The key, Ann,” Jeff whispered. “Pull the cord over his head and unlock the door.”

Ann clawed at it while Jeff supported the weight of Snader’s body. In a moment, she had the door open and they were inside.

The old housekeeper bustled in as Jeff half-dragged and half-lifted Snader across the living room.

“It’s nothing serious,” Jeff told her calmly. “He often has these attacks. He’ll be all right in a few minutes, and then I’ll start him off home.”

“Oh, the poor man,” she clucked. “Such a ghast. Can I get you anything?”

“Get us some hot water, mixed with mustard and soda,” Jeff said, hoping this would keep her busy for several minutes. She hurried away.

Ann unlocked the door into the inner room and Jeff lugged the slave trader inside. On the two screens, the endless chair-lined corridors still fled toward them.

 
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