The sun was above the horizon when Maculay carried his bride--now
asleep--over the threshold of his hotel suite. It was late afternoon
when the Maculays, man and wife, checked out of their hotel to take a
honeymoon in the jungle cities of Venus.
And Hanson fumed and fretted because he had no word from Ava, and
worried because he knew that Redmond was poring through Maculay's
secret file of computations and beginning to unravel the data that
would permit Redmond to create and establish negative space.
On the third day of such worrying, Hanson knew then he had
mis-calculated or over-stepped his reasoning. It was at that moment
that Hanson did something that he had stoutly insisted that not even
a man should do to his wife, or the reverse. Like reading another's
mail, one did not paw through desk drawers nor inspect the corners of
another's soul to see whether they concealed something. But Hanson went
through the desk drawers of his nurse, attempting to learn how he had
erred.
He came up with a small package, neatly tied in a very ornamental
manner under the plain store-bag. The name on the fancy ribbon was
that of a highly gilded women's shoppe where the salesgirls were very
beautiful, the silk very sheer, and the prices very high.
Hanson opened the package. It disgorged a petticoat and bra, through
either of which the doctor could have read the telephone directory
without his glasses. A scant concession to the custom that a woman
should wear lingerie--for the sake of the custom but not necessarily
for warmth, protection, fire or famine.
It might have been a gift.
It might have been her own.
It made no difference whether Ava had selected this daring set of
scanties for herself or for a gift, wedding or Christmas. It displayed
her taste, showed her subconscious desires.
"Damn!" exploded Hanson. "I've been working with a courtesan concealed
behind an armor of white starch. Oh, brother!"
The doctor knew. Like two small streams, turned here and there by the
minor hills and rocks of fate, they had been joined by Hanson into a
flowing river, complete unto itself--themselves--which would go its
way as it damn well pleased and overflow its banks to the ruination of
anything in its path if it were constrained.
They would not be back until Maculay came back in one year--at which
point Ava would subtly change, too, to conform with Maculay's desire.
This left Hanson helpless for one year, during which time Redmond
would be working towards destruction with no barriers to his course.
Hanson could express no more than an unfounded opinion of the fear
of danger; he had neither prestige nor formal education in the field
of high-geared physics. The first objection he voiced would be taken
with a nod by whomever official heard it, accepted for what it was: an
opinion by a medical savant of seventy years regarding a problem in
spacial physics. Then this opinion would be referred to Redmond for
official regard. Hanson knew the answer without asking the question.
Redmond would laugh in scorn. Redmond would--
Hanson shook his head unhappily. Redmond would be a tough nut to crack.
Belligerent, automatically biassed against the doctor, any attempt at
hypnosis would be fought against most vigorously. Yet--
Jay Hanson had been in his business for a long time, but he had had
no challenge such as this for years. And though old in body, he was
young enough in mind to contemplate the mental challenge with a certain
amount of interest.
He bought tickets and flew to the laboratory site where Maculay and his
gang worked on spatial physics; he used his medical prestige as key to
admittance, and found Redmond sitting at Maculay's desk checking a huge
blueprint of a spacecraft.
* * * * *
Redmond looked up. It was obvious that this little scene was one
prepared by Redmond. Men who have visitors announced by secretaries,
after having signed passes to let the visitor into the inner sanctum,
after learning as he must have learned that the famous doctor had come
to the huge laboratory site, should not look up from their desks in
surprise.
Hanson understood; Redmond was morally right and ethically wrong. He
had every moral right to take over Maculay's position during Maculay's
absence; that was his appointed job. But ethically, he had no right
to paw through Maculay's desk, and take from Maculay's secret files
the information that Maculay had forbidden him to see. Now he was
play-acting the part of a busy man who had all of the power he needed.