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Updated: May 2, 2025
The android, seeing his escape cut off, veered into an areaway. The patrolman got there first and plunged in after him. Taber, gasps tearing at his lungs, arrived thirty seconds later. During that time, he'd expected the sound of shots from the patrolman's gun. But there was silence. He braked on his heels, skidded into the areaway, and saw the android advancing on the patrolman.
If the three didn't spot the android, he planned to wait for closer contact and put the sixth slug into the forehead. The android shuddered. The fire and frenzy went out of him. He tried to lift a leg and was surprised when it didn't move. He looked down at it. Completely bemused, he peered down at his crimson chest. He looked up at Taber without anger, only with surprise.
This was noted and recorded, after which the tenth android called a finish to the night's activities and retired to the small room he'd rented on a quiet street on the Lower East Side where, if you bothered no one, no one would bother you. He was back the next morning, however, and that's when his unavoidable contact with Frank Corson on the sidewalk was made.
A Manhattan doctor. One of the androids had been found in the East River with its throat slit and a broken leg. Now a doctor had contacted Taber. Was there a connection? Somehow, Crane had to get on the track of the tenth android Taber was hunting. Cutting the ground out from under Taber had been a satisfying victory but it wasn't enough.
There were no birth memories in the android, but there were the vestiges of Sam's death memories: the endless torture under a machine so sensitive that, while it had no definition of a woman, it was able to discern in the names thefted from Sam's memory and used as names for the ten androids those which applied to males and those that did not.
Did he have competition in the matter of the android? Was someone else trying to get into the act? "A New York free-lance photographer named King. I didn't have to check on him. I recognized him. He's been around Manhattan for years." "A photographer. What do you suppose he's up to?" "No way of telling, at the moment. Want me to switch to him?" "No. Stay on Taber. There's more chance there."
He got off one shot as the elevator door was closing and saw the android spin away from the controls as the impact of the slug smashed the bone of his shoulder. Taber lunged to his feet and went for the stairs. There was no one in the lobby when he arrived there no dead bodies, either. But on the sidewalk, in front of the building, a woman lay dead in a pool of blood.
I've been looking all over hell for you. Come in. Come in." The tenth android was already in. He walked across the room and turned to look back at Les King with the outside light behind him. King returned the gaze and wondered if he was afraid. It was an odd thing to wonder about. A man should know his own emotions. But King could not quite analyze the ones that struck him at that moment.
I should have realized that something extraordinary had happened. But I nursed my miserable little ego like a three-year-old." "How could you know? My cruelty to you " "Don't talk like that! I knew about the ninth android, and I met the tenth one in front of your apartment that second morning. I should have associated. Brent Taber did, otherwise we might both be dead." "It's all over now.
He looked in through the small window in the swinging door and saw his counterpart in bed, a white-coated man bending over him. That made the ninth android unapproachable, so his counterpart-leader withdrew to the end of the corridor and waited until Doctor Corson came out.
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