She stood and went to the door. She stopped there and turned, looking
at Wolf. He met her eyes and held them with his own, frankly, without
embarrassment.
"I'm sorry," she repeated. She closed the door softly behind her, and
Wolf bent to study the map of the village she had provided.
* * * * *
The village lay in a cup-shaped valley. The main street was also
a direct highway out of Thanlar. On either side of the highway,
the farmer's fields stretched, checkered brown and green, to the
foothills. The entire valley was not more than a mile wide, and
the fields extended only a quarter of a mile on either side of the
main road. The foothills added another quarter of a mile, and then,
abruptly, the mountains started.
Though one of the principal highways to Thanlar, the main street was
fairly narrow, bordered closely on either side by the small business
district, composed mostly of single story buildings constructed out of
native lumber from the hills.
Wolf decided the center of the business district would offer the most
concealment. Any group of men at any other place would be viewed with
suspicion by Mayne Landing's bodyguards, and their chances would be
proportionately diminished.
It remained to determine the most effective weapon. Explosive? No,
too many villagers would be killed. Yet that would certainly be the
most certain way, a grenade thrown from the roof of one of the low
buildings. He wondered how thoroughly the Administrator's men would
check the village before the procession.
Joseph Carroll told him the check was cursory; except for the spasmodic
attacks of the revolution underground, the Colonies were submissive
enough, and the precautions taken were in the nature of routine.
It looked to be easy, Wolf thought wryly. The easiest of them all,
since the planet was fairly distant from the scene of previous
underground operations.
They wouldn't be expecting it, he thought. Down the main street in
procession, the Administrator standing in the little ground car,
smiling and waving to his subjects, genial, effusive. And then--
"Joseph," said Wolf suddenly. "How many men can I depend on?"
"Perhaps thirty," said the farmer. "Perhaps a few more."
"Are they completely dependable?"
"Within reason," said Carroll. "They are farmers, not soldiers. Plows
are more familiar to them than guns."
"How many can you get me that will obey me without question, no matter
what?"
Joseph Carroll tugged absently at his ear. Finally, he shrugged.
"Perhaps five," he said. "Including myself."
"All right," sighed Wolf. "It will have to be that way, then. But the
others can be depended on 'within reason?'"
"Yes," Carroll said. "Do not expect too much. They do not like this
business."
"Neither do you," Wolf said. "But you count yourself among the five
trustworthy."
Carroll didn't answer, and Wolf took his silence as a declaration of
faith.
"All right," he said. "Leave me now. At sunset, bring your men to me,
all of them. I will work out the attack."
"Very well," said Carroll, and started to leave.
"Joseph," said Wolf softly, and the older man turned at the door.
"What is it?"
"What about Daimya?"
"What about her?"
"Where will she be during--this attack?"
"At home, I expect," said Carroll. "Where she belongs."
Wolf toyed for a moment with the map that lay before him.
"Joseph," he said. "What _will_ happen to the village?"
"You don't know?" asked Carroll in surprise.
"No," Wolf admitted. "I have never stayed behind."
Carroll laughed bitterly. "One of two things," he said. "They will
either demolish it from the air, including the populace, or they will
put everyone in one of the forced labor camps." The farmer made a small
gesture of resignation.
"I didn't know," Wolf said, almost under his breath. _Can I be
responsible for that?_
"They don't like Colonists cooperating with the revolutionaries,"
Carroll continued. "Did you expect they exempted us all from our taxes
as a reward?"
"No," Wolf said. "But I didn't know it was so--complete."
"They are thorough," the old man shrugged. "Any village where an
incident occurs is made an example. Before long, you people will not
find much welcome in the Colonies."
"I suppose not," Wolf mused. "Perhaps by then--"
"You really believe you're going to succeed in overthrowing the
Federation, don't you?"
"I must," said Wolf. "Without that, all this--" he gestured to the map
before him, traced with arrows, notations, ideas, "--is meaningless
slaughter."
"So it seems," Carroll said flatly.
"Joseph," said Wolf suddenly. "With luck, there will be a ship waiting
for me in the mountains when I've--finished here."
"That's your good fortune," Carroll said grimly.
"Will you come with me?"
"And join the revolutionaries?"
"You--and Daimya."
Carroll considered it slowly. "No," he said finally. "Not I. I have
gotten my people into this, I must stay with them. All were against it
when you first contacted us. All but me. It is my fault. I have to stay
with them."
Wolf felt a sudden surge of affection for the old man. Reluctant he
might be, but he knew what he was doing and he knew the consequences
and was willing to accept them.
"And Daimya?"
"That is a different matter," said Carroll. "It is not right that she
should suffer for her father's folly."
_Or that a father should suffer for his son's folly_, thought Wolf. But
he said nothing.
"You would take her?" Carroll asked.
"If I am--able," said Wolf.
"All right," said the old man. "I will see to it. Better she should be
alive than dead. That is all that matters."
* * * * *
Wolfs final plan was simple. He had not enough men to count on a direct
attack. The major work would be performed by the dependable five,
of which Carroll assured him. The others would be used to create a
diversion to cover the actual assault.
There was a slight bend to the highway just before it entered the
village. When the procession passed this point, they would see a
group of men disperse quickly into the low scrub at the side of the
road. This would put them on their guard, they would be apprehensive,
watching.
When the procession had entered the village itself and was within the
short commercial strip, there would be an explosion back of them.
Grenades, perhaps some shooting. If Wolf's prediction were accurate,
this would divert the attention of at least the major portion of guards
for long enough.