Don waved negligently. "It did no harm. Maybe it was a good thing." He
turned toward the door, waiting.
* * * * *
Pete came in, looking about the room. "You brought Don Michaels here,
Father?"
Waern shook his head. "He came. He insisted on talking to you, Petoen.
And I find he is very persuasive."
"Oh." Pete turned. "I'm sorry, Don. Father thought that I----"
Don laughed shortly. "He was right--to some extent. But I'd like to
talk to both of you about a few things."
He moved back, to perch on the edge of a heavily carved table.
"Let's look at it this way. I got into trouble over the affair. Not
good, of course, but what happened to me is just one small incident.
All over Oredan, good intentioned people have things happening to them.
Sometimes, they're pretty serious things--like someone getting killed.
And they usually can't figure out what hit them. These things happen
pretty often. Why?"
Waern looked uncomfortable, but said nothing. Don looked at him
curiously.
"Do you really think, Mr. Waern, that you can sit here in peace? That
if you ignore this whole mess, it'll go away?"
Jasu Waern spread his hands. "What dare I do? My brother was trying to
do something. He is gone."
"True. He tried to clean up a little here and fix a little there. And
that only in one city. He didn't come boldly out and demand. He was
playing on the edge of the board, not in the center. A king could do
much more than that."
Waern looked at him, shaking his head.
"Yes, I know about the succession," Don told him. "And why shouldn't
you demand? You could get the support of the hill tribes. All you need
do is ask."
"I have thought of that. Perhaps we should have done that--once. But
now? After my brother's death? And what could the hillmen do against
the weapons of the plains?"
Don smiled at him. "Would the hillmen believe the stories about your
brother in the face of your personal denial before their own council?
Would they accept such a thing about any of the Waernu unless it were
proven by strong evidence? Yours is one of the clans, even yet, you
must remember. And how about the honor of the Waernu?"
Jasu's face was suddenly drawn. Don continued.
"And would the plainsmen dare use their weapons against a legitimate
claimant? For that matter, what good would their weapons be against a
Federation Strike Group, even if they did use them?"
"You seem so sure."
"Not just sure. Certain." Don glanced at his watch, then frowned.
"We've lost a lot of time." His voice sharpened.
"Come on," he snapped. "My sportster will carry three people. Let's get
out of here while we can still make it." He made shooing motions.
Waern moved toward the door, then turned.
"To the Morek?"
"That's right. Up to the Morek. We're going to start a feud."
* * * * *
Andrew Masterson looked at the handset approvingly. Little Mike was
getting the idea. He was still just as fast as he'd ever been. He made
a little noise in his throat, then spoke.
"Well, if you have any questions, Mr. Michaels, feel free to call us
here. Thank you, and good-by."
He dropped the handset to its cradle and leaned back again.
So that was set up. Little Mike would be on his way out to the hills by
the time he'd completed this next call. And he'd have the clans ready
for talks with the Waernu. Now, the next step would be to alert Jahns,
down in the Resident Commissioner's office.
He looked at the surface of his desk, considering, then reached for the
phone again. He'd have to be careful on this one.
The door opened and two men came through. One of them held out a card.
"Masterson?"
"That's right."
"Like to have you come with us. People investigating Rayson's accident
have some questions they'd like to ask you."
"Oh?" Masterson's eyebrows went up. "I'm afraid I wouldn't be much help
on that. I saw him go down, of course, but the view from this window
isn't the best. I really----"
The other shook his head. "Look, don't tell me about it. They just told
us to come out and get you. Got a lot of experts down there. They'll
ask the questions."
Masterson looked at the man appraisingly, then glanced at his partner,
who stood by the door, leaning against the wall.
These two, he thought, would be no great problem. Nothing here but arms
and legs. But----
[Illustration]
He smiled to himself.
_It would be you or the whole tribe_, he thought.
He might still be able to remain under cover, and he'd be a lot more
effective that way.
So maybe they were a little suspicious. He glanced down at the desk.
The little control box was safely destroyed and its operation had left
no evidence. Even if they did suspect the cause of Rayson's crash, they
couldn't prove a thing. No, his best bet was to go along with these two
and hope the questioning would be short enough to allow him to brief
Jahns with plenty of time to spare. He shrugged.
"Well," he said aloud, "I'll go with you, of course, though I don't see
how I can be of any help. Terrible thing, losing Rayson that way."
"Yeah. Real bad." The other nodded curtly. "Come on. Let's go."
* * * * *
Daniel Stern looked angrily at his aide.
"Just who is responsible for this report?" he demanded.
The aide looked aside. "It came in from Riandar Headquarters, your
honor," he said. "Colonel Konir signed it himself."
"I can read," snapped Stern. "But who's responsible? What idiot let
this thing fall apart?" He shook the papers angrily.
"Look at this thing," he ordered. "Simple instructions were issued.
With the organization they have up there, any fool could have carried
them out. So long as they kept it simple, even an idiot could have
eliminated that Waern nuisance. But no! Someone had to be subtle.
Someone had to make a big project out of it. And, of course, something
went wrong." He snorted angrily and slapped the papers down on his
desk.
"Rayson was responsible in part, I suppose?"
The aide nodded unhappily and Stern let out an explosive breath.
"Your man! Well, at least, where he is, he can do no more harm. Tell
me, are they going to get a confession out of that man, Masterson?"
"I doubt it, your honor. He claims to know nothing of the accident. And
there isn't a scrap of evidence that----"
"Evidence! There's very little doubt is there? With those notes of
Rayson's? And who else could have caused the crash?"
"Well, there certainly is no other----"
"Of course not. We know Masterson did it somehow. But why?"
The aide said nothing and Stern glared at him.
"Who is this Masterson?" he demanded. "Have you checked back on him?"
"He came here from Nogira," said the aide slowly, "seventeen years ago.
He had some civil police experience there. We've checked that. He has a
degree in criminalistic science. We checked that, too. Not a suspicious
move since he came here. He was in the Civil Branch for a few years,
then was assigned to instructional duty. He's got a perfectly clean
record."
Stern shook his head slowly, then looked down at the desk again.
"Just that little," he growled. "He could have simply hated Rayson for
some private reason. He could have seen him as an obstacle. We could
care less about that." He tapped at a paper.
"Or, he could be working with the Waernu. And that's probable. He could
even be an undercover agent for the Federation, though that seems a
little improbable. He's been here too long. Hah! He could be almost
anything except what Rayson thought." He looked up.
"Well, don't let him go. Keep him out of circulation. In fact, you
better have him put in tight confinement. We'll look into him more
closely later. Right now, I want to know what became of that Waern
boy."
The aide pointed at the papers on the desk. "The boy and his father are
reported to have left their residence, your honor. It is thought they
went with that same Donald Michaels who interfered with the original
plan."
Stern nodded. "The boy Rayson had right in his hands, and then let go.
Yes." He looked around the room, then got to his feet.
"Tell me, has any progress been made on locating the Waern 'Book of
Ancestors'?"
"No, your honor. Records has located and destroyed the last of the
evidence here in Oreladar. But the Waern copy has not yet been
located."
Stern nodded. "Find out who is responsible for the long delay in
discovering the Waern claim, Lander. That is inexcusable." He frowned.
"Now, to the Waernu. Did anyone see them leave their home?"
The aide shook his head. "Observers say Michaels' flier landed in the
Waern courtyard. A few minutes later, it took off and headed toward the
mountains. The observers were unable to determine how many people were
in the flier when it departed. It left too abruptly and traveled too
fast. They determined its direction, but were unable to follow it."
"Valuable men! I think we should take careful note of all those people
up at Riandar. Possibly they should be reassigned to duties more suited
to their abilities. Tell me, did anyone have the elementary
intelligence to have this flier tracked?"
"They tried, your honor. But it disappeared in the canyons, flying very
low. Search fliers have been operating for several hours, but no trace
of it has been found."
Stern nodded. "Well, we won't discuss it any further," he decided. "You
know my feelings on the Riandar people. I should say it would be safe
to assume the Waernu are holed up in Michaels' home. Get the exact
location of that place. Then set up an Enforcement Corps operation." He
frowned.
"Get some men out to make sure those people don't go into the hill
country before we can take care of them. You can use the search planes
for that. Then attend to your advance publicity and set up elimination.
You'll give that personal supervision, all the way through. Clear?"
The aide nodded.
"Very well. See that you make it simple. I'm not going to tell you how
to handle this in detail, but I expect to watch a broadcast showing
their removal within the next three days. Get started."
"Yes, your honor." The aide backed out of the room.
* * * * *
Stern watched the door close behind the man, then faced around as a dry
voice sounded behind him.
"Real nice, Danny," it said. "You went through it without a stumble.
Even came up with something of your own. You're learning, Kid."
Stern glared at the scrawny man.
"I thought you picked those people up at Riandar. I thought you said
they knew how to do things."
The other shrugged and spread his hands. "Well, Danny," he said, "you
know how it is. Once in a while, we underestimate the opposition, and
they slip one over." He leaned back in his chair, staring at Stern.
"But maybe this way, it's even better," he added. "We get a few in the
net we didn't even suspect existed, you see?" He paused.
"I think you should have a talk with this Masterson yourself," he went
on. "Maybe you should tell him to give us some of this information he
has, eh?"
Stern looked at him in annoyance. "I expect you and the rest of the
people around here to do some work, Gorham. After all, I'm the regent.
Do I have to do everything?"
Gorham got to his feet and brushed some of the dust from his trousers.
"I tell you, Danny," he said seriously, "some of these little things,
you have to be doing. Some of these things, only your talent will take
care of, no?" He held up one hand, waggling a finger in the air.
Stern glared at him.
"Gorham," he snapped, "I think I'll have to remind you of your place."
He tapped himself on the chest.
"I'm the regent, remember? I'm the kingpin here. You're just a senior
executive secretary. You wanted it that way, and that's the way it is.
But I expect you to start doing some work. I don't care how you get
information out of that man, Masterson, but I expect you to get it. I
certainly don't intend to do your work for you. Now get at it!"
Gorham considered him for a moment, then walked slowly across the room
till he stood before Stern's desk.
"Now, Danny-boy," he said softly, "don't you go trying that funny stuff
on old Jake. It don't work so good, remember? Nobody ever tells old
Jake he should do things. Nobody!"
He planted his left hand on the desk before Stern and leaned over a
little.
"We got an agreement, you and I, remember? I do the thinking. Me--old
Jake Gorham--I'm the brain. You got this talent, see. You tell people
they should go do something, they go do it. But not old Jake. No, no.
With him, it don't work so good. Everybody else, maybe, but not old
Jake." He waved his head to and fro, keeping watchful eyes on Stern.
The younger man slammed his hands to his desk, pushing himself back.
"You listen to me, old man," he snapped. "We had an agreement--once.
And you've been using it to ride my back ever since. It's come to an
end. Right now." He got to his feet, his deepset eyes seeming to flame.
"From now on, I'm the top man, do you understand?" His lip curled.
"I'm the regent. I'm the law. I tell these people what to do, and they
do it. And I can tell them to take you out and shoot you. Don't forget
that." His hand started toward a button on his desk.
* * * * *
Jake Gorham's hand blurred into motion and a small weapon was suddenly
in it. He pointed it at Stern.
"Sit down, Danny-boy," he ordered menacingly. "Sit down. And listen.
Listen real good." He spread his legs a little.
"Like I said, I'm the brains here. I do the thinking. Remember back in
Tonar City? Remember what happened, you tried once to run things for
yourself? Remember who came along and pulled you out just in time?" He
laughed shortly.
"Yeah, you need old Jake. You gotta have him. You think you just tell
these people--they should do anything you want. Oh sure. That lasts for
a while, maybe, but they get tired. Just like on Konelree, remember?
And what do you do when a whole mob moves in on you? Eh? What do you
do? You ain't got the moxie to handle no mobs, remember?
"But old Jake, he thinks of things, and we both get along real good.
Yeah, Danny-boy, you need old Jake." He glanced down at his weapon,
then waved it from side to side.
"But you know something else? Old Jake, he don't need you so much. Oh,
sure, it's nice here. I like it real good. But I got along real nice
for a long time before I picked you up, you see what I mean. You didn't
do no good at all. Talent, you got. But brains? No, them they didn't
give you. And they didn't give you much guts, either, Danny-boy. Them,
I got.
"And you know something else, Danny-boy? I got all kinds evidence. You
done some pretty bad things here, remember?" He smiled, exposing yellow
teeth.
"Real bad things, they wouldn't like them at all. And I can prove all
them things. Me, I ain't got no responsibility. I'm just a poor, little
old guy you keep around for laughs, remember?" He chuckled.
"You tell them to take me out and shoot me? I should laugh. You reach
for that button. Go ahead. Stick your finger out. Then this thing here,
it sings you a little song. And I go get some papers I got somewhere
around here. And I go get some recordings. And maybe a few pictures.
And then Old Jake's a public hero. And he takes a lot of money and goes
away from here, he should spend his old age some place where he likes
it better." He waved the weapon again.
"Still want to play?"
Stern's face was bloodless. He dropped into his chair, then put his
head in his hands.
"I'm sorry, Jake," he said. "Sorry. I guess I'm just a little tired
right now. Forget it, will you?"
"Sure, Danny-boy. Sure. We forget all about it. Now suppose we quit for
the night, eh? Then in the morning, we get this Masterson fellow in
here. And you find out from him just who he is and why he comes here.
And you can let him tell us what he's been doing and who he's been
working with, eh?" Gorham smiled and stuck the weapon back in his
sleeve.
"We ain't doing so bad," he went on. "We ain't doing bad at all." He
reached out to stir the papers on Stern's desk with a forefinger.
"These people up at Riandar, they don't do so good maybe on that Waern
kid. But they don't do so bad all the time. They get this Masterson,
see? Right away, they're on him, soon as this guy Rayson gets himself
killed off."
Stern nodded. "Yes," he admitted, "at least, they did have the sense to
pick up Masterson--after he'd done plenty of damage. They were pretty
slow. And they missed the Michaels boy entirely. So now, the Waern boy
is out of easy reach." He frowned.
"We had things set up for an elimination on him, you know."
Gorham wagged his head. "Makes very little. Him, we can get. Him, they
take care of in a couple days. Same operation, they should just move it
a few miles, eh? Your boy with all them buttons, he takes care of that,
see?" He grinned.
"And that takes care of this Michaels kid, too." Again, he poked at the
papers.
"And here, we got another report. This young Michaels' father, he talks
to this guy Masterson on the phone. You see that? And right away, he
heads for the mountains. Maybe he wants to talk to the hill people,
eh?" His grin became wider.
"But somebody at Riandar, he gets a rush of brains to the head, see?
And the border patrol, they challenge this old guy, you get it? Just a
routine check, see, but the old guy, he don't get the word so quick.
"So they don't take no chances up there. They knock him down in some
canyon up there." He shrugged.
"So all this leaves this Masterson, you could talk to him, maybe he
sings us some nice music." He turned away.
"I stay around, back at my desk. Maybe I should think of a question or
two while we talk, the three of us, eh?"
* * * * *
The royal gold and blue receded from the screen and Merle Boyce's face
looked out at his audience.
"This," he said shortly, "is the second day of the hunt for the Wells
gang." He came out from behind his desk, his piercing eyes intent.
"For the past full day, this group of robbers have made their way
toward the west. It is thought they hope to join rebellious hill tribes
somewhere in the Morek region." He paused.
"Late yesterday afternoon," he continued, "these four men burned their
way through a road block near Riandar. And despite reinforced blocks
and stringent sky checks, they are still at large. All subjects of the
realm are urgently requested to notify the authorities of any
suspicious strangers."
He faded from the screen, to be replaced by the figures of four men.
"In co-operation with the Enforcement Corps," his voice continued, "we
are showing pictures of the fugitives. We see here, Howard Wells, Merla
Koer, Dowla Wodl, and Jake Milton." The voice stopped for a moment,
then continued.
"These men are regarded as extremely dangerous. Subjects are urged to
make no effort to approach them personally. Notify the authorities
immediately if they are seen."
Don reached to the switch and snapped the receiver off.
"I don't like it," he said slowly. "I don't like any part of it."
"Think we might have visitors?" Pete looked at him thoughtfully.
Don nodded. "It could be just a build-up," he said. "Did you get that
thrust about the tribes?"