Condley gave out with his best friendly-politico smile. "I'm sorry to
have to drag you up here like this, Mr. Bending, but we felt it best
this way."
Sam smiled back, with a trace of irony in the smile. "It's a pleasure,
Mr. Secretary," he repeated.
Condley nodded, still smiling--but there was a spark in his eyes now. "I
see we understand each other. Come on in; I want you to meet the
others." He looked at the FBI men. "That's all. For now."
The Federal agents nodded and moved away into the dimness of the
corridor.
"Come in, man, come in," the Secretary urged, opening the door wider.
Sam hesitated. The light within the room was none too bright. Then he
stepped forward, following the Secretary.
* * * * *
The outer room was dark. Not too dark, but illuminated only by the dim
light from the corridor and from the inner room. From that inner room,
there was only a glow of light from the frosted glass panel of the door
that separated the two rooms.
Condley closed the hall door, and, as Sam stepped forward toward the
lighted door, held out a hand to stop him. "Just a moment," he whispered
softly. "I think you ought to know what you're walking in to, Mr.
Bending."
Bending stood stock-still. "Yes, sir?" he asked, questioningly.
"I suppose you know what this is all about?" Secretary Condley asked
softly.
"The Converter, I imagine," Sam Bending said.
Condley nodded, his gray hair gleaming silver in the dim light.
"Exactly. I'm sorry we had to drag you up here this way, Mr. Bending,
but, in the circumstances, we felt it to be the best way." He took a
breath. "Do you know why we called you here?"
"No," Sam said honestly.
Condley's head nodded again. "You're in for an argument, Mr. Bending. A
very powerful one, I hope. We want to convince you of something." Again
he paused. "Are you an open-minded man, Mr. Bending?"
Sam Bending followed the Secretary's lead, and kept his voice low. "I
like to think so, Mr. Secretary." He recognized that Condley was
preparing him for something, and he recognized that the preliminary
statements were calculated to soften him. And he recognized the fact
that they _did_ soften him. All right--what was the argument?
"You're an engineer, Mr. Bending," Condley said, in the same low voice.
"You have been trained to evaluate facts. All I ask is that you use that
training. Now, let's get in there before _Tovarishch_ Artomonov begins
to think we might be stalling him."
Condley strode toward the door and grasped the knob with a firm hand.
Sam Bending followed, wondering. Artomonov? Who was Artomonov? The
Secretary of Economics had indicated, by his precise enunciation of
_tovarishch_, that the man was a Russian--or at least a citizen of one
of the Soviet satellites. Sam Bending took a deep breath and decided
that he was prepared for almost anything.
There were four men seated around the conference table in the back room,
and the most surprising thing, as far as Sam was concerned, was that he
recognized only one of them. From the big buildup, he had had half a
notion that the President himself might be there.
"Mr. Samson Bending, gentlemen," said Secretary Condley to the group.
They all rose and made half-hearted attempts to smile, but Sam could see
that they were watching him as though he had a live grenade in his
pocket.
"Mr. Bending, I believe you know Mr. Richard Olcott," the Secretary
said.
Bending gave the Power Utilities executive a sardonic smile, which was
returned by a solemn nod of the head.
_Sure I know you, you crook_, Bending thought.
"And, around the table," Condley continued, "are Dr. Edward Larchmont,
the research departmental head of Power Utilities--Dr. Stefan Vanderlin,
of the United States Bureau of Standards--and Dr. Alexis Andreevich
Artomonov, of the Soviet Socialist Republics' representative office at
the United Nations."
Sam Bending managed not to blink in astonishment as the last man was
introduced--a feat which took every milligram of his self-possession. He
recognized the name; A. A. Artomonov, head of the United Nation's
International Trade Bureau. What was _he_ doing here?
"If you'll sit down, Mr. Bending," Condley was saying, "we can get to
business."
Bending sat down, and the others sat with him. "May I say something
before we go any further?" Sam Bending asked. "May I say that I think
this is a rather irregular method of doing things and that I think I
ought to see my lawyer."
Secretary Condley's eyes narrowed just the slightest. He was a heavy,
jowl-faced, graying man who was known for his firmness in his official
capacity. "At this stage of the game, Mr. Bending, there is no need for
a lawyer. We merely want to explain something to you--we want you to get
all the data. If, afterwards, you still want your lawyer, you'll be
perfectly free to call him. Right now, we want you to listen with an
open mind."