"What? But you're a--"
"Don't mind the uniform," Riddell said. "Better keep your voices low.
You're not arrested. I want you to tell me where Barr is."
"This is a trick, Clyde. He's trying to trap us."
"We already _are_ trapped," the other farmer pointed out. "Who are
you?" he asked.
"The name is Riddell. Of Center City. I want you to tell me where I can
find David Barr, and then I want you to go home and stay there."
"Riddell? I've heard of you. You're the--"
"Look, friends, I can't waste time--_talk_! Where's Barr?"
"His headquarters is at the corner of State and Main--three blocks
down. You can't get to see him, though."
"Don't worry about that," Riddell said. "Just go home and keep quiet.
Maybe by nightfall things will be different in Northburg. Let's hope
so."
* * * * *
Cautiously, he made his way down Main, heading for the big brick
building that was undoubtedly Barr's headquarters.
He felt encouraged with the realization that Barr's influence was based
on a grip of fear. It was infinitely more easy to destroy a tyrant than
to try to change the mind of an entire town.
These people wanted peace--but Barr drove them on to conquest, putting
guns in their hands and uniforms on their backs. Riddell planned to
stop it.
Suddenly, a trumpet sounded. Riddell looked up, startled, and stood
still.
"_Attention!_" a blaring voice cried, from what seemed to be a
thousand loudspeakers. "_Attention! All off-duty members of the Army
of Northburg are to assemble outside GHQ at once for combat briefing.
Plan 102 is to be accelerated._"
Riddell rubbed his jaw. That meant they probably had found the stripped
guard outside the walls, and knew that another Center City spy was
loose somewhere in Northburg. It meant they would probably launch the
attack on Center City ahead of schedule. Riddell started to move at a
fast half-trot. He didn't have much time now.
Soldiers in blue were appearing from all over as he reached the
Headquarters--which had once been, Riddell observed, Northburg City
Hall. _He's got half the town militarized already_, he thought, seeing
the swarm of blue-clad soldiers.
He trotted up and filtered into the milling group outside GHQ. "What's
up?" he asked the man nearest him.
"Barr's calling a briefing session," the soldier said. "Didn't you hear
the announcement?"
"I was--busy," Riddell said, grinning sheepishly. "Must have missed it.
We having a change of schedule?"
"It probably means we'll march on Center City tonight," the other said.
"Don't know why they're shifting plans."
"Spies," said a third man. "Center City's catching wise. We're going
to have to beat them to the punch. I hear they've had Northburg
honey-combed with spies all week."
"Yeah?" Riddell asked. "Hell, I thought our defense was tight as a
drum."
"Tight as a sieve, you mean." The other lowered his voice. "You know,
I've been hoping this day would never come," he said unexpectedly.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Don't repeat this--but I still can't quite swallow everything Barr
says about Center City planning to jump us for months, that we have to
strike first. It doesn't sound right, somehow."
"Brother, you can't trust those Center City people," said Riddell. "If
Barr said it, Barr means it. You shouldn't be talking like this, you
know."
"I know. But I've wanted to get it off my chest for a long time, and
you look like you've got an honest face."
* * * * *
Riddell grinned. "That's the most dangerous kind, pal." He turned away
and stared around at the growing army. _So that's the story Barr's been
dishing out? That explains his hold over these people. He's got them
all scared stiff of us!_
Suddenly, Riddell knew that Barr could be stopped--that this whole
juggernaut could be kept from going any further. Barr's machine was
built on a quicksand foundation.
The trumpet sounded again. Everyone looked up automatically. On a
little balcony on the third floor of the building, a man stepped out.
He was thin and wiry, with a browned, weather-beaten face, and even at
this distance Riddell could see the fierce blaze of power-lust in his
eyes.
The man on the balcony was David Barr.
* * * * *
Riddell broke away from the crowd of men he was in and pushed his
way through them toward the door of the former City Hall. A row of
sergeants stood at the entrance.
"Where you goin'?" one of them asked.
"Got a message for Barr. Just came back from a spy-mission to Center
City, and I've got information he's got to have!"
The sergeants looked at each other uneasily, as if not sure whether to
admit Riddell or not. He paused just a moment, then shoved past them
and into the building.
"Hey! Come back here!"
Riddell ignored the shout and disappeared into the dark lobby of the
building.
A staircase beckoned. He sprang up the first flight, met an armed guard
posted on the landing. The guard started to say something, but Riddell
charged furiously on through him, knocking him reeling.
"Stop that man!" someone shouted.
He looked down and saw several of the men who had stood at the entrance
dashing after him. Riddell grabbed the first-floor guard, lifted him
in the air, and hurled him down the staircase into the midst of his
pursuers. Then he turned and continued ascending.
There was no further trouble till he reached the third floor. There, he
stood looking around for a second, heard the sound of Barr's hoarse,
rasping voice coming from the left, and raced down the hall.
He came to a halt in front of an office-door guarded by another soldier.
"What do you want, Corporal? Why aren't you downstairs?"
Without replying, Riddell drove a fist into the man's stomach. He
gagged and doubled up. Riddell pushed him aside, opened the door,
stepped in, and turned the lock.
A voice was threatening from the balcony. "Our enemies in Center City
threaten our very lives!" Riddell looked up. The window was open, and
standing there delivering his harangue was Barr. Riddell watched him.
He was a remarkably small man to be wielding so much authority.
The sound of footsteps echoed in the hall outside, and Riddell heard a
shoulder crash against the unyielding oak door. There wasn't much time.
He took a step forward--and stopped.
He stood there, staring at his hands. He was frozen.
He had killed for Center City before, had calmly fired shots into a
swarm of fear-crazed looters who were sacking the bombed city, had
executed criminals with his own hands in the name of the city. And
he had vowed never to kill again. He swore the rebuilding would be
accomplished peacefully.
Yet up ahead was David Barr. A bullet in the unsuspecting demagogue's
head and it would all be over. But Riddell couldn't do it that way.
He hovered there in indecision for a fraction of an instant before the
answer came. Mere bloodshed was not enough--but violence was sometimes
necessary in the cause of peace. It was a paradox whose truth was
inescapable.
He stepped forward. His decision was made.