Knowing only the sector in which Andra had been seen with Lloyd,
but not having access to Grace's address or phone number, Lennick
and Frank, in the prop-Goon, arrived at her Unit many minutes after
the Goon Squad had left. They found it by the simple expedient of
noting--in their white-for-black cathode-screen--the one Unit from
whose windows blackness was trying to pour. That meant Light-of-Day was
still functioning in that particular Unit, and that in turn meant only
the presence of higher-ups.
The door to the Unit lay wide open, but Frank didn't dare roll inside.
His conveyance's lack of a force-field would be readily apparent in
such close quarters. He halted, instead, a few yards along the side of
the Unit, told Bob where the door lay from them, then cut off his motor
and the cathode-screen. Ultrablack fell about them like a velvet all.
Bob, following Frank, felt his way out into the near-palpable darkness,
found the wall against his fingers, and edged along beside it, fingers
feeling for the doorway. A hand upon his chest stopped him, and he
waited.
Frank, holding Bob back, leaned carefully toward the open doorway his
fingers had just touched, not daring to show any more of himself than
he had to to whomever might be inside the Unit. Then, swiftly, he
leaned his head out of Ultrablack and blinked at the parlor before him.
He saw no one. He closed his fingers upon the front of Bob's shirt,
gave a quick tug on it, then let go and stepped into the room. A moment
later, Bob was there beside him, squinting against the bright bluish
Light-of-Day.
"Maybe it's the wrong Unit," Bob offered. "A malfunction in the Hive
mechanism _might_ keep this place from Ul--" He shut up and gripped
Frank's arm. "Stanton!" he said, pointing beyond the sofa. Then Frank
saw the President. Cautiously, the two men approached the still, silent
figure and stared down at him.
"What do you suppose happened?!" Bob said, shakily. "Do you think Andra
had something to do with this?"
Frank Shawn scratched his head. "You got me. All I can figure is--if
Stanton's in a fix like this--he may not have been able to get her
picked up. This tableau has the earmarks of turned tables, if you ask
me."
"Do we dare waken him and find out?" Bob said, keeping his voice to a
library-whisper.
"Not as long as Ultrablack's on. We'd have a hell of a time explaining
how we got here," said Frank, shaking his head. He turned to look at
Stanton again, and the blood froze in his veins. Stanton's eyes were
open, and he was staring at the two of them with glaring hate.
"How _did_ you get here, Kinsman Shawn?!" he demanded. "And you,
Kinsman Lennick!" Stanton lifted his head from the floor, awkwardly,
and tried to look around. "Bodger! Where is he?" he said, shaken by a
sudden return of memory.
"I've got to get to that phone! They're probably on their way to my
office right this minute! If they take control--" He choked on the word
and lay still, seeing the Snapper--his own--that Frank now leveled at
him. "I suppose the two of you know this is high treason?" he said
wearily. He lay there fuming at his enforced impotence.
Bob looked at Frank. "What'll we _do_?"
"I wish I knew!" Frank muttered. "If we knew what had happened, where
the others have gone--But we don't, so there's no followup there....
Still, we can't leave Stanton here, now that he's seen us, or it's our
necks when he gets free."
"We--" Bob said, hesitantly. "We could make sure he _would not_ be able
to do anything, later...." He let his voice trail off, Frank caught his
meaning after an instant's puzzled frown, and went ashen.
"In cold blood, just like that?" he said softly.
"I don't like it any more than you, Frank.... But--" Bob spread his
hands helplessly. "What choice do we have? If we're caught--you
especially--the whole movement is doomed." He stood silent, waiting for
his answer.
Frank nodded, abruptly. "You're right. It has to be done." Stanton
looked from the face of one man to the other, his tongue licking
suddenly dry lips.
"Bob--Frank--" Stanton spoke from the floor, his tone weak with
dread. "I'm an old man. You wouldn't kill me, would you? I'll do
anything--_Forget_ I've seen you here, even ... anything ... only
please don't--!"
* * * * *
"Listen, Frank," Bob said, trembling. "You heard what Stanton said:
They've gone to his office. Take the Goon and go after them. I'll stay
here with Stanton. If everything works out about the revolt--Fine.
If it doesn't--Call me, here. The number's on the phone base. If
the balloon goes up--I'll kill Stanton, then. But unless it does--I
can't...."
"Okay," Frank said, coming to a swift decision. He noted Grace's
number, then went toward the Ultrablack beyond the door. At the
threshhold, he turned. "I may not get the chance to phone," he said.
"If things go wrong, I mean. Give me half an hour. If I haven't called
by then--" He avoided looking at Stanton's perspiring face. "Go ahead."
Bob reached out and took the Snapper. "Good luck," he said. Frank
nodded wordlessly, and stepped out into the blackness. In another
minute, Bob heard the rumble of the prop-Goon's motors, and then
the whir of its wheels on the pavement outside. When it died in the
distance, he looked down at his prisoner.
"I'm sorry, sir," he said, "really sorry. It was the only thing to do,
while he was here. I knew he wouldn't go through with it. Killing you,
I mean." He stooped and helped him up.
"What if he'd agreed!?" Stanton complained, taking his weapon and
pocketing it.
Bob looked up, surprised. "I'd have had to kill him, of course. Without
your permission, I didn't dare let on in front of him. I thought you'd
want me in a position of trust, still. Frank won't alert any other
members of the movement against me, this way."
Stanton grunted noncommittally at the statement, and got to his feet.
Then he stepped to the phone and dialled Madge Benedict's number. The
receiver shrilled in his ear, over and over, as the phone in her
office rang. He waited for six rings, then hung up, his face thoughtful.
"Madge is never supposed to leave the phone without my permission
during an emergency. Something's happened. They may be up there
already.... They _must_ be up there already!"
"What can we _do_?" Bob blurted, frightened. "Once they gain control of
the Speaksters--"
"That takes time," Stanton said. "They'll have to lift Ultrablack,
flash an emergency call to the Temples on the Proposition Screens, and
wait until the Kinsmen have arrived to make their announcements. But
there's a way to stop them. The Goons. And they're controlled by the
Brain--Or by whomever is at the controls of the Brain!" he added with a
smile that sent gooseflesh along Lennick's back.
"But how can we get there in Ultrablack?" Bob asked. "If we wait for
them to turn it on, we won't have much time before the Kinsmen get
to the Temples...." He stopped when he saw what Stanton was doing.
The President, from an inner pocket of his coat, had taken a sort of
transparent grey oval of some plastic material, and was fitting it
before his eyes by means of an elastic strap. When it was in place,
he could just barely see the President's balefully glaring eyes. "I
didn't know such a thing existed," he said, knowing what the eyeshield
was for, suddenly.
"Few people do," said Stanton. "Come on, you young fool! Take my arm
and let's get moving!"
Bob took a firm grip upon the President's sleeve, and then the two
of them stepped out into Ultrablack. Despite his youth, Bob had a
difficult time keeping up with the other man. Stanton was driven by
extremely vengeful fires.