administration of the unforeseen. Karl had now begun to pace back and forth in such an agitated manner that, for the first time, Duncan felt distinctly nervous. He remembered Calindy’s warning; and once again, he reminded himself uneasily that this was not at all a good place for a confrontation with an adversary who might be slightly unbalanced.
Suddenl ,v, Karl seemed to come to a decision. He stopped his uncertain weaving along the narrow catwalk and turned on his heel so abruptly that Duncan drew back involuntarily. Then he realized, with both surprise and relief, that Karl’s hands were outstretched in a gesture of pleading, not of menace.
“Duncan,” he began, in a voice that was now completely changed. “You can help me. What I’m trying to do—P
It was as if the sun had exploded. Duncan threw his hands before his eyes and clenched them tightly against the intolerable glare. He heard a cry from Karl, and a moment later the other bumped into him violently, rebounding at once.
The actinic detonation had lasted only a fraction of a second. Could it have been lightning? But if so, where was the thunder? It should have come almost instantaneously, for a flash as brilliant as this.
Duncan dared to open his eyes, and found that he could see again, though through a veil of pinkish mist. But Karl, it was obvious, could not see at all; he was blundering around blindly, with his hands cupped tightly over his eyes. And still the expected thunder never came…. If Duncan had not been half-paralyzed by shock, he might yet have acted in time. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, as in a dream. He could not believe that it was real.
He saw Karl’s foot hit the precious notebook, so that it went spinning off into space, fluttering downward like some strange, white bird. Blinded though he was, Karl must have realized what he had done. Totally disoriented, he made one futile grab at the empty air, then crashed into the guardrail. Duncan tried to reach him, but it was too
late. 250 Even then, it might not have mattered; but the years and the rust had done their work. As the treacherous metal parted, it seemed to Duncan that Karl cried out his name, in the last second of his life. But of that he would never be sure.
THE LISTENERS
“You’re under no legal compulsion,” Ambassador Farrell had explained. “If you wish, I could claim diplomatic immunity for you. But it would be unwise, and might lead to various-ah-difficulties. In any case, this inquiry is in the mutual interest of all concerned. We want to find out what’s happened, just as much as they do.”
“And who are they?”
“Even if I knew, I couldn’t tell you. Let’s say Terran Security.”
“You still have that kind of nonsense here? I thought spies and secret agents went out a couple of hundred years ago.”
“Bureaucracies are self-perpetuating-you should know that. But civilization will always have its discontents, to use a phrase I came across somewhere.
Though the police handles most matters, as they do on Titan, there are cases which require-special treatment. By the way, I’ve been asked to make it clear that anything you care to say will be privileged and won’t be published without your consent. And if you wish, I will come along with you for moral support and guidance.”
Even now, Duncan was not quite sure who the Ambassador was representing, but the offer was a reasonable one and he had accepted it. He could see no harm in such a private meeting; some kind of judicial inquiry was obviously needed, but the less publicity, the better.
He had half expected to be taken in a blacked-out car on a long, tortuous drive to some vast underground complex in the depths of Virginia or Maryland. It was a little disappointing to end up in a small room at the old
State Department Building, talking to an Assistant Under Secretary with the improbable name of John Smith; later checking on Duncan’s part disclosed that this actually was his name. However, it soon became clear that there was much more to this room than the plain desk and three comfortable chairs that met the eye.
Duncan’s suspicions about the large mirror that covered most of one wall were quickly confirmed. His host—or interrogator, if one wanted to be melodramatic-saw the direction of his glance and gave him a candid smile.
“With your permission, Mr. Makenzie, we’d like to record this meeting. And there are several other participants watching; they may join in from time to time. If you don’t mind, I’ll refrain from introducing them
Duncan nodded politely toward the mirror.
“I’ve no objection to recording,” he said. “Do you mind if I also use my
Minisec?”
There was a painful silence, broken only by an ambassadorial chuckle. Then
Mr. Smith answered: “We would prefer to supply you with a transcript. I can promise that it will be quite accurate.”
