"Yes." I stood up, drawing Snap up with me. "What is wanted of us
Colonel?"
"That's better, Gregg." He smiled, but he was still grim. "I wanted
you here to wait for this call from the Conclave of Public Safety. It
met at midnight. They have ordered both of you there."
"That's a secret meeting, isn't it?" asked Snap. "There was no report
of it over the air tonight."
"Yes. Secret." He was leading us to the door. "They won't need you for
more than half an hour. When they finish, come back to my office. You
can come openly." He stood with his finger on the door lever.
"Good-by, lads. Foley will lead you to the service room. You are to
take a mail cylinder for Postal Switch-station 20. They'll re-route
you from there to the conclave auditorium."
The door slid up. "When you disembark," he added, "Ask for Johnny
Grantline. You are to sit with him."
He showed us out and the door slid down before him. We trudged the
corridor, and Snap gripped me.
"For myself," he whispered swiftly, "I'll go to the damnable conclave
because I'm ordered. But I won't stay there long. Once we get out of
it, if I don't route myself back to the Red Spark, I'm a motor-oiler."
I agreed with him. We had a mental picture of Anita and Venza in the
Red Spark's public room. Doubtless Orentino had created a way for them
to meet Molo. They would sit there in the Red Spark with that drinking
party, and in less than an hour we would be back.
But as we crossed diagonally across an end of the main room with Foley
leading us, we caught a glimpse of Molo's table. The party was still
there, but Molo, Anita, and Venza were gone!
We had no time to get any information. Foley abruptly left us and
another man took his place. In the service room a passenger cylinder
was waiting. Our guide entered it with us.
At the switch station we had the breath knocked out of us. After
another ten minutes in the vacuum tube, we reached our unknown
destination. The cylinder-slide opened. We found ourselves with a lone
guard; and through a gloomy arcade opening, Johnny Grantline was
advancing, to greet us.
"Well, so here you are, Gregg. Hell to pay heaven, going on here. Come
on in; I'll tell you."
"We were sent for," Snap said.
"Yes, but they don't want you yet. Come in here."
He waved away the guard and led us through a padded arcade into a
low-vaulted audience room, windowless and gloomy. Across it, a doorway
panel stood ajar. Grantline peered through it. There was the glow of
light from the adjoining room and the distant murmur of many voices.