Calculated Risk part3

[Leslie]

Calculated Risk part3

One who happened to was a professor at a distant University, an admirer of Forthled and an acquaintance of the Director. Visiting Washington some months after the publication, he called on his acquaintance and mentioned that he would like to meet the author. So Wayner was summoned once again to the Director’s office.
It started well, congratulations from the professor, shared interest in Henry Forthled, the two chattering on and the Director almost sidelined.
To get into the conversation, the Director announced, “Of course, Wayner here has another claim to fame, he actually posses a solar powered calculator that’s over a hundred years old. Haven’t you Wayner? Carries it everywhere. Show it to the professor.”
Wayner himself liked time to calculate, he wasn’t any good at being caught on the hop, and he was certainly no good at bluffing. At first he said the calculator was in his desk, but when told to fetch it he claimed that he had lost it. The Director wasn’t fooled. He let the subject drop but sent for Wayner again after the professor had left. It didn’t take long to get the truth.
The Director’s head turned a bright scarlet colour. He roared, “You idiot, you know the first rule of Time Travel. You never, never introduce anything that’s out of the chronology, not in any shape or form. Don’t you realise what you’ve done? The components, the circuitry in that little item could alter the whole development of electronics. The history of World War 2, the history of the World, could be changed.”
“I put it out of sight, under the machine in a locked cabinet,” Wayner bleated pathetically.
“Not good enough! Not good enough!” the Director continued at high decibel level. “You broke the rule. By God, I should have known better than to let you go!” and he suddenly thought about the watchdog. He bellowed into his intercom, “Get hold of Traveller Benson and send him to me immediately.” To Wayner he snapped, “Get out and wait outside until I send for you.”
On his way in, Benson saw Bullen and construed from his appearance that trouble lay ahead.
“What in hell were you doing on that mission?” the Director greeted him.
Benguy managed to get in, “Watching Bullen, Sir.”
“The Hell you were! Do you realise that he slipped that calculator of his into a display cabinet in that Memorial Room place?” Director started with the high decibel roar but reduced as he spoke to a menacing hiss. It was very effective. Benguy cringed.
“Sorry, Sir, “ he whispered.
Director returned to maximum volume, “Sorry?! Sorry?! You’re an experienced Traveller. You know the consequences this kind of thing can have. That’s why you were there, to watch his every move every moment!”
Benguy felt sudden anger, “I couldn’t watch everything . . . when he blinked, when he picked his nose . . .”
“You should have been watching if he wiped his ass . . .”
“He didn’t go . . .”
“Don’t get funny with me, Traveller. We have a damn serious situation here, as serious as it can get. That calculator must be recovered without any delay. You were there, you know the territory, if you’d done your job we wouldn’t have the problem. Get back there and bring home the calculator, that way you might just save your neck. Get going. I’ll phone through authorisation right now.”
Benguy departed at a run, giving Wayner a look in passing that should have killed.
Two Security Guards came and took Wayner away. He never got back in to see the Director again.

Benguy did his own calculations. First of all he consulted an older map of Wayhalt and worked out arrival co-ordinates to save him a walk. His next problem was a target date. He and Bullen had arrived in July; with a two month margin of error he had to be sure not get there before the calculator had been deposited. He aimed for October. This time he chose stout shoes and took a topcoat. He also took a selection of small master keys.
Finding Wayhalt library was no problem, as a Traveller his sense of direction was honed. He smiled and nodded to the motherly librarian who was on duty again; she didn’t appear to recognise him, which was good. He headed for the Memorial Room, but before he got to the door she called out, “I’m sorry, Sir, the Memorial Room is closed for a few days. It’s going to be redecorated.”
Benguy stopped in his tracks and felt as if his stomach had suddenly filled with lead.
But he had been in tight spots in his career and knew how to cope. He turned and smiled, “How disappointing,” he said. “Never mind, I’ll come back another time.”
Out on the street he automatically checked the hour: four in a chilly October afternoon. It would not be long before it was dark. What to do? He quickly realised that his options were few; if risks had to be taken they were justified considering the greater risk that existed.
He did a rapid survey of the Library and found a way around to the back. There was a gate admitting to a small yard, a bicycle rack, and a standard size, wooden door, presumably a Staff entrance. A close look showed that the door had no special security fittings and, thinking back, he was sure there was no alarm system in the building.
Benguy hurried back to the streets, worried that the stores may close early in this hick town on dark nights. Finding an ironmonger’s he searched out a small wrecking bar, but then, fearing the proprietor might report a stranger buying a breaking-and-entering tool, he also picked up a pair of pliers and a screwdriver. These he bought and received in a strong brown paper bag. He decided to buy a torch in a different shop.
With time to kill, he wandered the streets again, aware that in a place like Wayhalt he could soon be noticed. A distinctly appetising smell hitting his nostrils made him realise he was hungry and following his nose led to a small shop-fronted establishment. Wording painted on the window advertised ‘Beef Burgers in a Bun’. Benguy went in. There was a service counter behind which were hot plates; around the walls were ledges and bar-stools providing places for customers to sit and eat. The proprietor, sporting a white apron and white chef’s hat, greeted him, “Well, hi there Mister Ben! Good to see yuh again,” and waving his hands to indicate the whole place, "What do you think?"
Benguy recognised the Oswald of his previous visit. Dorcas poked her head around the door that led out back and grinned.
Benguy was genuinely surprised, “You’ve certainly done well in the past few months!” he declared.
“All on account of you, friend,” Oswald rejoiced.