Deathwish World

matters involved. The Anti-Racist League was not of particular import to us so long as it was active in the original fifty states alone. The minorities they represent numbered but some sixteen percent of the population; no great danger to our status quo. However, they are now, ah, beginning to spread into Latin America and other areas of the new United States of the Americas.'

She scowled down at her plate. 'I don't believe I follow you.'

'These new citizens have the vote, Lee. There are enough blacks in Haiti, Jamaica, and even the Guianas to assure that their senators and representatives will be represented in Congress by blacks—if steps are not taken. It's equally true for Mexico, Central America, and the parts of South America which are chiefly Indian.'

'So the purpose of the Race Research Foundation is…'

'Ultimately, to maintain the status quo. To see that our people, yours and mine, do not vanish from the positions of power they now assume. Ah, but here is the cheese. I have ordered a selection of Roquefort, Brie, and Chevre.'

The cheese was accompanied by a bottle of Rose d'Anjou, following which the waiter brought Crepes de Chapitre.

Lee, who had been silent and thoughtful through these culinary wonders, said at one point, 'But since my cover has been blown, as you put it, I am no longer of value to the Foundation.'

He smiled at her condescendingly. 'We'll discuss it later in my office, my dear.'

When they finished the meal, Andre returned, bowing unctuously again.

He said to Gary McBride, 'Ca vous a plu, le repas, Monsieur McBride?'

'II etait superb, Andre,' the other told him grandly.

Andre looked at Lee. 'Et Madam?'

Lee said, ' 'Mes felicitations au chef pour ses crepes. Us etaient commes des diners de George Garin au Chateau du Clos de Veuheot. IIy avaient des autres nobles efforts.'

'Merci, Madam.' Andre bowed deeply and was gone.

Gary McBride gaped at her. 'Parisian French,' he said accusingly.

'My father was in the diplomatic corps. In Paris, I attended the Lycee Janson de Sailly. I also have Spanish, Portugese, and Italian, and can get along in German. My Russian is atrocious.'

'All Russian is atrocious,' he smirked, then saw irritation in her face. 'Or did I make a mistake?'

She said, evenly, 'Several. Never order such a wine as Richebourg with such a dish as Canard a L'Orange. Nor any other wine, for that matter. The acid of the orange sauce destroys the enjoyment of any great wine. The sole exception is Bouzy, from the Champagne district. If you must order Richebourg it is worthy of a much greater dish, such as Venison Grand Veneur or Lievre a la Royale.'

'I see,' he said coldly. 'And what else?'

'None of the cheeses were from Burgundy. A Brillat Savarin or ripe Epoisse would have been preferable. And Rose d'Anjou, a suspect wine at best, is anathema to both Burgundy food and any cheese and most certainly should never do for the crepes, which were excellent, as I told the maitre d'. By the way, his French has a horrible Brooklyn accent.'

'I see,' he said. 'Shall we go?' He stood, tossing his napkin to the table.

She looked up at him. 'Why? My one assignment for the Race Research Foundation came a cropper. I should have looked further into the whole thing before undertaking it. If I had, possibly I would have refused the job. I was too thrilled at the prospect of actually being employed when the computer selected me to work for you, Mr. McBride. Now, even if you did have some position I could hold down, I'm not sure I would choose to be associated with such a pompous superior.''

He grinned suddenly, which completely altered his face. He said, 'Good. We've got some things to discuss.'

She shrugged in resignation, dropped her own napkin to the table, and stood. 'I can't imagine what,' she murmured.

At the desk, he brought forth his card and placed it in the payment slot, saying, 'Please add a twenty percent tip.'

'Thank you, sir,' the screen said.

As he was returning his credit card to an inner pocket, he turned his eyes to Lee and smiled again. 'How's my French?'

Her face was expressionless. 'Only fair,' she said. 'You seldom acquire a proper French accent outside France or Switzerland. I suspect that most of your instructors were Americans. The French are fanatical about accent.'

'I surrender,' he said, taking her arm.

The Manhattan office of the Race Research Foundation was within easy walking distance and since it was located in the vicinity of New Columbia University, it made for a pleasant stroll. They maintained silence during the walk and Lee Garrett was surprised at the fact that he was still amused. This was a different Gary McBride. Gone was the affected front. What in the world was this all about? The fluffing of the job wasn't particularly important. But what she had told Horace Hampton had been partly correct. She was tired of the frivolous life and would have liked something worthwhile to do.

The Manhattan offices of the Race Research Foundation were modest. In the outer office were three desks, two women and a young man at them, equipped with the standard vocotypers, phone screens, and library boosters for consultation with the National Data Banks. All greeted Gary McBride by his first name, which surprised Lee. She had expected a stuffy atmosphere, at best.

He didn't bother to introduce her. His private office turned out to be a room of warmth and informality. He seated her in a comfortable chair before rounding the desk and taking his own place.

She still didn't know why she had come. Now that she had fluffed the Hampton contact, she couldn't see how she could possibly infiltrate the Anti-Racist League.

Gary McBride, smiling again, picked up a sheaf of papers from the desk and said, 'This is your Dossier Complete. It reports that you attended the Lycee Janson de Sailly, one of the oldest private secondary schools in Paris. You were there for several years, invariably top in your class.'

She glared indignantly at him. 'What the devil are you doing with that? The Dossier Complete of any citizen can be consulted only by proper authorities for adequate cause. You need the highest priority in the National Data Banks to…' He held up a hand and grinned his boyish grin at her. 'Exactly.' He watched suspicions chase across her face and then nodded. 'We enjoy such a priority.'

She was staring at him in sudden realization. 'You knew all the time, there in the restaurant, that I spoke French.'

'Guilty as charged.'

'But… then why did you pretend to make such a fool of yourself before that… that Brooklyn Frenchman?'

He grinned once more. 'Lee, the organization of which we are but one subsidiary makes every effort to recruit the best personnel. Practically every employment position filled in the United States goes through the National Data Banks computers. The computers select the most suitable person available for each job.' He paused, then winked. 'But we get to the data banks before the government computers even begin their selections. We skim the cream of the crop.' He could see her confusion. He tapped the sheaf of papers before him.

'Lee, the Dossier Complete is possibly the most comprehensive tally of a citizen's life ever assembled. It begins before your birth, references going beyond your grandparents. And, from your birth, every aspect of your life is checked: health, upbringing, education, sports accomplishments, criminal record, employment record, travels, and on and on. Among other things checked is your ability quotient. Your dossier builds profiles of your verbal and numerical abilities, spatial ability, memory, speed of reflexes, dexterity, mechanical aptitude, emotional maturity, veracity, sensory limits, natural charm, persistence, neurosis, powers of observation, health, and a few others.'

She smiled. 'Depressing idea. We're all confronted with these confounded tests every few years. That is, if we have any interest in work or running for office. Maybe I should've refused to take them. But what's all this got to do with…'

He held up a hand. 'There are a few things, my dear, that can't be tested. Luck, for instance.'

'Luck! There is no such thing.'

'I'm afraid there is, just as there is accident-proneness, which also defies computer analysis. Even though