And so, having betrayed the Company to Slovetski's gang, I came full
circle.
Even Judas betrayed only One.
* * * * *
Getting away from the Observatory was simple enough, with Rena shocked
and confused enough to look the other way. Finding a telephone near
Mount Vesuvius was much harder.
I was two miles from the mountain before I found what I was looking
for--a Blue Wing fully-automatic filling station. The electronic
scanners clucked worriedly, as they searched for the car I should have
been driving, and the policy-punching slot glowed red and receptive,
waiting for my order. I ignored them.
What I wanted was inside the little unlocked building--A
hushaphone-booth with vision attachment. The important thing was to
talk direct to Defoe and only to Defoe. In the vision screen, impedance
mismatch would make the picture waver if there was anyone uninvited
listening in.
But I left the screen off while I put through my call. The office
servo-operator (it was well after business hours) answered blandly, and
I said: "Connect me with Defoe, crash priority."
It was set to handle priority matters on a priority basis; there was
neither fuss nor argument, though a persistent buzzing in the innards
of the phone showed that, even while the robot was locating Defoe for
me, it was double-checking the connection to find out why there was no
vision on the screen.
It said briskly, "Stand by, sir," and I was connected with Defoe's
line--on a remote hookup with the hotel where he was staying, I
guessed. I flicked the screen open.
But it wasn't Defoe on the other end of the line. It was Susan
Manchester, with that uncharacteristic, oddly efficient look she had
shown at the vaults.