that the chief was giving Amos and John a rough time. For them he reserved the most intricate exploders, and as Amos and John, out of sheer desperation, got to be expert at taking them apart without getting zapped, the chief began to pull some pretty raw stuff.
Once, after Amos and John had figured out a particularly tricky clock mechanism, got it apart and stopped and completely disarmed so that it couldn't possibly explode, it zapped them when they laid it down on the table.
Death Row 25
As the weeks went by, John Nash began to work out what he called his Grand Plan.
Amos didn't want any part of it, didn't want to be noticed any more than the chief was noticing him already.
It was a simple plan. Rig up a device that would zap the chief.
"I can do it!" John announced one day. "I've figured out a way to rig an exploder so it'll zap him. No wires. No connections. Just one thing pressing on another thing, the ankle bone connected to the neck bone."
"And our head bone disconnected from our body bone," Amos had argued.
"We'll make a little game of it, Amos. Bet him a couple of beers; keep it all friendly and nice."
"Zap him?"
"Zap him. Nail him down to the floor and shake him like a leaf."
"I'd love to see that," Amos said, "but from a long distance off. Way off and land of anonymous."
"Then you'll do it?"
Amos wanted to. He was fed up with the chiefs harassment. But getting through Death Row, getting out was more important. "No, John. The way he'd report it to the brass could get us into real trouble."
John was disappointed. "Well, I can't do it by myself. I really thought you'd go for it, Amos."
"One of these days I'll tell you why I can't take a risk like that."
Only a few nights later, though, Amos changed his
mind. He shared a room in Bachelor Officers' Quarters with a lieutenant (junior grade) named Beach, whom Amos did not like. Beach was a by-the-book, paperwork man whose only ambition was to keep from being sent to sea, where somebody might shoot at him. Since Beach was the Personnel Officer for the command, he had been successful in outwitting all attempts to get him sent to sea.
That night when Amos came in, Beach looked up and said, "Say, Wainwright, did you know that you've got gaps in your service record?"
Amos felt as though everything were turning cold. He could hear the quiver in his voice as he tried to sound casual. "What sort of gaps?"
"You worked in the Navy Department before coming here, but there's no fitness report on you by your commanding officer there."
"That poor old commander had a hard time remembering his name. Don't worry about it; I can get it straightened out."
"See that you do," Beach said and got up to comb his hair, which he did every few minutes.
Amos watched Beach out of the corner of his eye as he told him a joke he had heard that day.
Beach was not amused. "And that's not all," he said.
"All of what?" Amos asked, feeling the shakes coming, as though the Hangman had just zapped him.
Beach looked at him from the mirror. "You haven't got any orders assigning you to this school, Wain-
wright. The way I see it, you have no right to be here."
Here it is, Amos thought. Disaster. He tried to laugh. "That Navy Department is one more fouled-up operation."
He realized instantly that it was the wrong thing to say. "Oh, yeah?" Beach said. "It's never fouled me up. People can't just wander around in the Navy, going any place they choose, you know."
"You're right. I'll get it squared away tomorrow."
"7 will get it squared away," Beach said. "I'm preparing a report on this matter for the Commanding Officer."
Anger began to ride over Amos' fear. "Come on, buddy," he said as politely as he could, "I know how important it is to keep all these papers straight. But it's only one missing piece. It won't take long to get it, so why bother everybody?"
"Because it happens to be my duty," Beach said. "You have no orders to be here."
Amos started to say something, then stopped,
Once, after Amos and John had figured out a particularly tricky clock mechanism, got it apart and stopped and completely disarmed so that it couldn't possibly explode, it zapped them when they laid it down on the table.
Death Row 25
As the weeks went by, John Nash began to work out what he called his Grand Plan.
Amos didn't want any part of it, didn't want to be noticed any more than the chief was noticing him already.
It was a simple plan. Rig up a device that would zap the chief.
"I can do it!" John announced one day. "I've figured out a way to rig an exploder so it'll zap him. No wires. No connections. Just one thing pressing on another thing, the ankle bone connected to the neck bone."
"And our head bone disconnected from our body bone," Amos had argued.
"We'll make a little game of it, Amos. Bet him a couple of beers; keep it all friendly and nice."
"Zap him?"
"Zap him. Nail him down to the floor and shake him like a leaf."
"I'd love to see that," Amos said, "but from a long distance off. Way off and land of anonymous."
"Then you'll do it?"
Amos wanted to. He was fed up with the chiefs harassment. But getting through Death Row, getting out was more important. "No, John. The way he'd report it to the brass could get us into real trouble."
John was disappointed. "Well, I can't do it by myself. I really thought you'd go for it, Amos."
"One of these days I'll tell you why I can't take a risk like that."
Only a few nights later, though, Amos changed his
mind. He shared a room in Bachelor Officers' Quarters with a lieutenant (junior grade) named Beach, whom Amos did not like. Beach was a by-the-book, paperwork man whose only ambition was to keep from being sent to sea, where somebody might shoot at him. Since Beach was the Personnel Officer for the command, he had been successful in outwitting all attempts to get him sent to sea.
That night when Amos came in, Beach looked up and said, "Say, Wainwright, did you know that you've got gaps in your service record?"
Amos felt as though everything were turning cold. He could hear the quiver in his voice as he tried to sound casual. "What sort of gaps?"
"You worked in the Navy Department before coming here, but there's no fitness report on you by your commanding officer there."
"That poor old commander had a hard time remembering his name. Don't worry about it; I can get it straightened out."
"See that you do," Beach said and got up to comb his hair, which he did every few minutes.
Amos watched Beach out of the corner of his eye as he told him a joke he had heard that day.
Beach was not amused. "And that's not all," he said.
"All of what?" Amos asked, feeling the shakes coming, as though the Hangman had just zapped him.
Beach looked at him from the mirror. "You haven't got any orders assigning you to this school, Wain-
wright. The way I see it, you have no right to be here."
Here it is, Amos thought. Disaster. He tried to laugh. "That Navy Department is one more fouled-up operation."
He realized instantly that it was the wrong thing to say. "Oh, yeah?" Beach said. "It's never fouled me up. People can't just wander around in the Navy, going any place they choose, you know."
"You're right. I'll get it squared away tomorrow."
"7 will get it squared away," Beach said. "I'm preparing a report on this matter for the Commanding Officer."
Anger began to ride over Amos' fear. "Come on, buddy," he said as politely as he could, "I know how important it is to keep all these papers straight. But it's only one missing piece. It won't take long to get it, so why bother everybody?"
"Because it happens to be my duty," Beach said. "You have no orders to be here."
Amos started to say something, then stopped,
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