"Please call me Tom. Well, then, why did you cry?"
"It is of no importance. Please."
I coughed and tried a different tack. "You understand that I do have
_some_ authority. And I would like to help you if I can--if you'll let
me."
"Let you? How could I prevent it?"
Her eyes were deep and dark. I shook myself and pulled the notes I'd
made on her policies from my pocket. In the most official voice I could
manage, I said, "You see, there may be some leeway in interpreting the
facts. As it stands, frankly, there isn't much hope. But if you'll give
me some information--"
"Certainly."
"All right. Now, your father--Benedetto dell'Angela. He was a casualty
of the war with Sicily; he got a dose of radiation, and he is at
present in a low-metabolism state in the clinic at Anzio, waiting for
the radiogens to clear out of his system. Is that correct?"
"It is what the Company's report said," she answered.
* * * * *
Her tone was odd. Surely she wasn't doubting a Company report!
"As his dependent, Rena, you applied for subsistence benefits on his
Blue Blanket policies, as well as war-risk benefits under the Blue
Bolt. Both applications were refused; the Blue Blanket because your
father is technically not hospitalized; the Blue Bolt, as well as all
your other personal policies, was cancelled, because of--" I stuttered
over it--"of activities against the best interest of the Company.
Specifically, giving aid and comfort to a known troublemaker whose name
is given here as Slovetski." I showed her the cancellation sheet I had
stolen from the files.
She shrugged. "This much I know, Tom," she said.
"Why?" I demanded. "This man is believed to have been instrumental in
inciting the war with Sicily!"
She flared, "Tom, that's a lie! Slovetski is an old friend of my
father's--they studied together in Berlin, many years ago. He is
utterly, completely against war--any war!"
I hesitated. "Well, let's put that aside. But you realize that, in
view of this, the Company can maintain--quite properly in a technical
sense--that you contributed to the war, and therefore you can't collect
Blue Bolt compensation for a war you helped bring about. You were
warned, you see. You can't even say that you didn't know what you were
doing."
"Tom," Rena's voice was infinitely patient and sad. "I knew what I was
doing."
"In that case, Rena, you have to admit that it seems fair enough.
Still, perhaps we can get something for you--even if only a refund of
your premiums. The Company doesn't always follow the letter of the law,
there are always exceptions, so--"
Her expression stopped me. She was smiling, but it was the tortured
smile of Prometheus contemplating the cosmic jest that was ripping out
his vitals.
* * * * *