The Frankenstein Factory by Edward D. Hoch Read Free Book Online

Dr. Eric MacKenzie, the brain surgeon, and he was dead.
    They assembled in the dining room, all eight of them, but this time it wasn’t for breakfast. Lawrence Hobbes stood at the head of the table, and as he spoke there was a quiver of uncertainty (or fear?) to his voice.
    “I don’t really know what’s going on here, but it appears we’re in some danger. Dr. MacKenzie was certainly murdered. He was strangled by a cord around his throat. Someone killed him during the night and carried his body down to the operating room.”
    “Isn’t there another possibility?” Vera asked, raising her hand to speak like a student at a college seminar. “Couldn’t he have gone down to the operating room for some reason and been killed there?”
    “Certainly, that’s possible.”
    “But Miss Watson got it in her room,” Freddy pointed out. “Chances are old MacKenzie did too.”
    Hobbes nodded just a bit sadly. “Someone deactivated the alarm system during the night. The killer could have prowled the house at will.”
    “Strange,” Earl remarked. “The system wasn’t touched the previous night, was it?”
    “No.”
    He glanced around at their faces and saw expressions ranging from the sheer terror of the cook, Hilda, to the solemn indifference of Phil Whalen. It was Vera Morgan who demanded action. “We have to call the mainland and get the authorities out here.”
    “The authorities,” Hobbes stated categorically, “consist of one aging Mexican sheriff and his usually drunk assistant. The twenty-first century has not yet reached Baja California. Besides, as I pointed out before, any authorities who arrive here would have to be told about our patient downstairs. That should be avoided for as long as possible.”
    “Sure should,” Freddy O’Connor agreed. “I can see the headlines on the video printouts now: Murder at Frankenstein Factory — Did Monster Kill Its Creator? ”
    “Certainly you don’t think—”
    “Why not? Hell, I’d much rather believe that Frank down there did it than consider the possibility that I’m sitting at a table with a murderer!”
    Earl turned to Dr. Armstrong. “Is Frank conscious and able to move?”
    “He’s shown no signs of it as yet. As I previously reported, both breathing and pulse rate are normal. He certainly could awaken at any time.”
    “He could awaken and pretend to be still asleep,” Vera suggested, lighting a cigarette. “After all, he’s been dead nearly thirty years. He might not know what to expect.”
    “But he doesn’t know what year this is,” Armstrong pointed out logically. “I don’t believe anyone’s mentioned it in his hearing.”
    “If he’s prowling the house at night he knows,” Freddy argued.
    “Wait, wait!” Lawrence Hobbes pleaded. “You’re making a monster of him! He’s a young man who probably never harmed anyone in his life!”
    “The body is young,” Tony Cooper said quietly. “What about the brain?”
    “The brain?”
    “Are we all overlooking the fact that the brain came from someone else? You managed to keep it quite a secret, and we went along with you, but now the time has come to tell all, Dr. Hobbes. If you really are a doctor.”
    “Listen, you—!”
    “Now, now.” Tony Cooper was suddenly on his feet and looked ready to do battle if necessary. “It should be a simple thing for you to tell us the identity of the brain donor, shouldn’t it? You must have records.”
    “I have records.”
    “Well then?”
    “The matter is confidential. I already explained about lawsuits. Although all five of the bodies used had passed into my possession because of nonpayment of fees, there exists a strong possibility that some relative could make trouble.”
    “If Frank wakes up he’ll tell everyone who he is,” Tony pointed out logically.
    “Yes,” Hobbes agreed. “You’re right there, I suppose.”
    “Then what can be the harm in identifying the brain?”
    “All right. I’ll get the records.”
    While he was