Caves of Steel - Isaac Asimov [101]
“How close am I, Commissioner?”
Enderby writhed, “I didn’t—”
“No,” said Baley, “you didn’t kill Daneel. He’s here, and in all the time he’s been in the City, you haven’t been able to look him in the face or address him by name. Look at him now, Commissioner.”
Enderby couldn’t. He covered his face with shaking hands.
Baley’s shaking hands almost dropped his transmitter. He had found it.
The image was now centered upon the main door to Dr. Sarton’s dome. The door was open; it had been slid into its wall receptacle along its shining metal runner grooves. Down within them. There! There!
The sparkle was unmistakable.
“I’ll tell you what happened,” said Baley. “You were at the dome when you dropped your glasses. You must have been nervous and I’ve seen you when you’re nervous. You take them off; you wipe them. You did that then. But your hands were shaking and you dropped them; maybe you stepped on them. Anyway, they were broken, and just then the door opened and a figure that looked like Daneel faced you.
“You blasted him, scrabbled up the remains of your glasses, and ran. They found the body, not you, and when they came to find you, you discovered that it was not Daneel, but the early-rising Dr. Sarton, that you had killed. Dr. Sarton had designed Daneel in his own image, to his great misfortune, and without your glasses in that moment of tension, you could not tell them apart.
“And if you want the tangible proof, it’s there!” The image of Sarton’s dome quivered and Baley put the transmitter carefully upon the desk, his hand tightly upon it.
Commissioner Enderby’s face was distorted with terror and Baley’s with tension. R. Daneel seemed indifferent.
Baley’s finger was pointing. “That glitter in the grooves of the door. What was it, Daneel?”
“Two small slivers of glass,” said the robot, coolly. “It meant nothing to us.”
“It will now. They’re portions of concave lenses. Measure their optical properties and compare them with those of the glasses Enderby is wearing now. Don’t smash them, Commissioner!”
He lunged at the Commissioner and wrenched the spectacles from the other’s hand. He held them out to R. Daneel, panting, “That’s proof enough, I think, that he was at the dome earlier than he was thought to be.”
R. Daneel said, “I am quite convinced. I can see now that I was thrown completely off the scent by the Commissioner’s cerebroanalysis. I congratulate you, partner Elijah.”
Baley’s watch said 24:00. A new day was beginning.
Slowly, the Commissioner’s head went down on his arms. His words were muffled wails. “It was a mistake. A mistake. I never meant to kill him.” Without warning, he slipped from the chair and lay crumpled on the floor.
R. Daneel sprang to him, saying, “You have hurt him, Elijah. That is too bad.”
“He isn’t dead, is he?”
“No. But unconscious.”
“He’ll come to. It was too much for him, I suppose. I had to do it, Daneel, I had to. I had no evidence that would stand up in court, only inferences. I had to badger him and badger him and let it out little by little, hoping he would break down. He did, Daneel. You heard him confess, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Now, then, I promised this would be to the benefit of Spacetown’s project, so— Wait, he’s coming to.”
The Commissioner groaned. His eyes fluttered and opened. He stared speechlessly at the two.
Baley said, “Commissioner, do you hear me?”
The Commissioner nodded listlessly.
“All right. Now, the Spacers have more on their minds than your prosecution. If you co-operate with them—”
“What? What?” There was a dawning flicker of hope in the Commissioner’s eyes.
“You must be a big wheel in New York’s Medievalist organization, maybe even in the planetary setup. Maneuver them in the direction