The Eyes Have It

  Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  _Daylight sometimes hides secrets that darkness will reveal--the Martian's glowing eyes, for instance. But darkness has other dangers...._

  THE EYES HAVE IT

  By James McKimmey, Jr.

  Illustrated by Paul Orban

  Joseph Heidel looked slowly around the dinner table at the five men,hiding his examination by a thin screen of smoke from his cigar. He wasa large man with thick blond-gray hair cut close to his head. In threemore months he would be fifty-two, but his face and body had the vitallook of a man fifteen years younger. He was the President of theSuperior Council, and he had been in that post--the highest post on theoccupied planet of Mars--four of the six years he had lived here. As hiseyes flicked from one face to another his fingers unconsciously tappedthe table, making a sound like a miniature drum roll.

  One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Five top officials, selected, tested,screened on Earth to form the nucleus of governmental rule on Mars.

  Heidel's bright narrow eyes flicked, his fingers drummed. Which one? Whowas the imposter, the ringer? Who was the Martian?

  Sadler's dry voice cut through the silence: "This is not just anordinary meeting then, Mr. President?"

  Heidel's cigar came up and was clamped between his teeth. He stared intoSadler's eyes. "No, Sadler, it isn't. This is a very special meeting."He grinned around the cigar. "This is where we take the clothes off thesheep and find the wolf."

  Heidel watched the five faces. Sadler, Meehan, Locke, Forbes, Clarke.One of them. Which one?

  "I'm a little thick tonight," said Harry Locke. "I didn't follow whatyou meant."

  "No, no, of course not," Heidel said, still grinning. "I'll explain it."He could feel himself alive at that moment, every nerve singing, everymuscle toned. His brain was quick and his tongue rolled the words outsmoothly. This was the kind of situation Heidel handled best. A tense,dramatic situation, full of atmosphere and suspense.

  "Here it is," Heidel continued, "simply and briefly." He touched thecigar against an ash tray, watching with slitted shining eyes while theashes spilled away from the glowing tip. He bent forward suddenly. "Wehave an imposter among us, gentlemen. A spy."

  He waited, holding himself tense against the table, letting the sting ofhis words have their effect. Then he leaned back, carefully. "Andtonight I am going to expose this imposter. Right here, at this table."He searched the faces again, looking for a tell-tale twitch of a muscle,a movement of a hand, a shading in the look of an eye.

  There were only Sadler, Meehan, Locke, Forbes, Clarke, looking likethemselves, quizzical, polite, respecting.

  "One of us, you say," Clarke said noncommittally, his phrase neither aquestion nor a positive statement.

  "That is true," said Heidel.

  "Bit of a situation at that," said Forbes, letting a faint smile touchhis lips.

  "Understatement, Forbes," Heidel said. "Understatement."

  "Didn't mean to sound capricious," Forbes said, his smile gone.

  "Of course not," Heidel said.

  Edward Clarke cleared his throat. "May I ask, sir, how this wasdiscovered and how it was narrowed down to the Superior Council?"

  "Surely," Heidel said crisply. "No need to go into the troubles we'vebeen having. You know all about that. But how these troubles originatedis the important thing. Do you remember the missionary affair?"

  "When we were going to convert the Eastern industrial section?"

  "That's right," Heidel said, remembering. "Horrible massacre."

  "Bloody," agreed John Meehan.

  "Sixty-seven missionaries lost," Heidel said.

  "I remember the Martian note of apology," Forbes said. "'We haveworshipped our own God for two-hundred thousand years. We would preferto continue. Thank you.' Blinking nerve, eh?"

  "Neither here nor there," Heidel said abruptly. "The point is that noone _knew_ those sixty-seven men were missionaries except myself and youfive men."

  * * * * *

  Heidel watched the faces in front of him. "One case," he said. "Here'sanother. Do you recall when we outlawed the free selection system?"

  "Another bloody one," said Sadler.

  "Forty-eight victims in that case," Heidel said. "Forty-eight honorablecolonists, sanctioned by us to legally marry any couple on the planet,and sent out over the country to abolish the horrible free-lovesituation."

  "Forty-eight justices of the peace dead as pickerels," Forbes said.

  "Do you happen to remember _that_ note of apology?" Heidel asked, aslight edge in his voice. He examined Forbes' eyes.

  "Matter of fact, yes," said Forbes, returning Heidel's stare steadily."'You love your way, we'll love ours.' Terribly caustic, what?"

  "Terribly," said Heidel. "Although that too is neither here nor there.The point again, no one except the six of us right here knew what thoseforty-eight men were sent out to do."

  Heidel straightened in his chair. The slow grating voice of Forbes hadtaken some of the sharpness out of the situation. He wanted to holdtheir attention minutely, so that when he was ready, the dramatics ofhis action would be tense and telling.

  "There is no use," he said, "in going into the details of the otherincidents. You remember them. When we tried to install a free press, theSensible Art galleries, I-Am-A-Martian Day, wrestling, and all therest."

  "I remember the wrestling business awfully well," said Forbes. "Martiansdrove a wrestler through the street in a yellow jetmobile. Had flowersaround his neck and a crown on his head. He was dead, of course.Stuffed, I think...."

  "All right," snapped Heidel. "Each one of our efforts to offer thesepeople a chance to benefit from our culture was snapped off at the bud.And only a leak in the Superior Council could have caused it. It is asimple matter of deduction. There is one of us, here tonight, who isresponsible. And I am going to expose him." Heidel's voice was a lowvibrant sound that echoed in the large dining room.

  The five men waited. Forbes, his long arms crossed. Sadler, his eyes onhis fingernails. Meehan, blinking placidly. Clarke, twirling his thumbs.Locke, examining his cigarette.

  "Kessit!" Heidel called.

  A gray-haired man in a black butler's coat appeared.

  "We'll have our wine now," Heidel said. There was a slight quirk in hismouth, so that his teeth showed between his lips. The butler movedmethodically from place to place, pouring wine from a silver decanter.

  "Now then, Kessit," Heidel said, when the butler had finished, "wouldyou be kind enough to fetch me that little pistol from the mantel overthere?" He smiled outwardly this time. The situation was right again; hewas handling things, inch by inch, without interruption.

  He took the gun from the old man's hands. "One thing more, Kessit. Wouldyou please light the candles on the table and turn out the rest of thelights in the room. I've always been a romanticist," Heidel said,smiling around the table. "Candlelight with my wine."

  "Oh, excellent," said Locke soberly.

  "Quite," said Forbes.

  Heidel nodded and waited while the butler lit the candles and snappedoff the overhead lights. The yellow flames wavered on the table as thedoor closed gently behind the butler.

  "Now, then," Heidel said, feeling the tingling in his nerves. "This,gentlemen, is a replica of an antique of the twentieth century. Aworking replica, I might add. It was called a P-38, if my memory servesme." He held the pistol up so that the candlelight reflected against theglistening black handle and the blue barrel.

  There was a polite murmur as the five men stretched forward to look atthe gun in Heidel's hands.

  "Crude," Sadler said.

  "But devilish-looking," Forbes added.r />
  "My hobby," Heidel said. "I would like to add that not only do I collectthese small arms, but I am very adept at using them. Something I willdemonstrate to you very shortly," he added, grinning.

  "Say now," nodded Meehan.

  "That should be jolly," Forbes said, laughing courteously.

  "I believe it will at that," Heidel said. "Now if you will notice,gentlemen," he said touching the clip ejector of the pistol and watchingthe black magazine slip out into his other hand. "I have but fivecartridges in