«I know, son — I'm not bright about practical matters, either. Well, do the best you can.»
«Anything else, Jubal?»
«If you see the man who invented the wheel, send him up.
Jubal considered the possibility that Duke had sabotaged the «panic button» but rejected the thought. He allowed himself to wonder what had really happened in his garden and how the lad had done it — from ten feet under water. He had no doubt that Mike had been behind those impossible shenanigans.
What he had seen the day before in this very room was just as intellectually stupefying — but the emotional impact was not. A mouse was as much a miracle of biology as was an elephant; nevertheless there was a difference — an elephant was bigger.
To see an empty carton, just rubbish, disappear in mid-air implied that a squad car full of men could vanish. But one event kicked your teeth in — the other didn't.
Well, he wouldn't waste tears on Cossacks. Jubal conceded that cops
But to be in the S.S. a man had to have larceny in his heart and sadism in his soul. Gestapo. Storm troopers for whatever politico was in power. Jubal longed for the days when a lawyer could cite the Bill of Rights and not have some over-riding Federation trickery defeat him.
Never mind — What would happen now? Heinrich's force certainly had had radio contact with its base; ergo, its loss would be noted. More S.S. troopers would come looking — already headed this way if that second car had been chopped off in the middle of an action report. «Miriam — »
«Yes, Boss.»
«I want Mike, Jill, and Anne at once. Then find Larry — in the shop, probably — and both of you come back, lock all doors and ground-floor windows.»
«More trouble?»
«Get movin', gal.»
If the apes showed up — no,
Call the Palace? Heinrich had probably been telling the truth when he said that a renewed attempt would simply be referred to Heinrich — or whatever S.S. boss was warming that chair. Well? It would surprise them to have a man they had sent a squad to arrest blandly phoning in, face to face — he might be able to bull his way to the top. Commandant “What's-his-name”, chap with a face like a well-fed ferret. Twitchell. The commanding officer of the S.S. buckos would have access to the boss.
No good. It would be a waste of breath to tell a man who believes in guns that you've got something better. Twitchell would keep on throwing men and guns till he ran out of both — but he would never admit he couldn't bring in a man whose location was known.
Well, when you couldn't use the front door you slipped in through the back — elementary politics. Damn it, he needed Ben Caxton — Ben would know who had keys to the back door.
But Ben's absence was the reason for this donkey derby. Since he couldn't ask Ben, whom did he know who would know?
Hell's halfwit, he had been talking to one! Jubal turned to the phone and tried to raise Tom Mackenzie, running into three layers of interference, all of whom knew him and passed him along. While he was doing this, his staff and the Man from Mars came in; they sat down, Miriam stopping to write on a pad:«
Jubal nodded and wrote below it:«
«A pleasure, Jubal.»
«Tom, if you wanted to talk to Secretary General Douglas, how would you go about it?»
«Eh? I'd phone his press secretary, Jim Sanforth. I wouldn't talk to the Secretary General; Jim would handle it.»
«But suppose you wanted to talk to Douglas himself.»
«Why, I'd let Jim arrange it. Be quicker to tell Jim my problem, though. Look, Jubal, the network is useful to the administration — and they know it. But we don't presume on it.»
«Tom, suppose you just had to speak to Douglas. In the next ten minutes.»
Mackenzie's eyebrows went up. «Well… if 1 had to, I would explain to Jim why it was — »
«No.»
«Be reasonable.»
«That's what I can't be. Assume that you had caught Sanforth stealing the spoons, so you couldn't tell
Mackenzie sighed. «I would tell Jim that I had to talk to the boss — and that if I wasn't through to him right away, the administration would never get another trace of support from the network.»
«Okay, Tom, do it.»
«Huh?»
«Call the Palace on another instrument — and be ready to cut me in instantly. I've got to talk to the Secretary General right
Mackenzie looked pained. «Jubal, old friend — »
«Meaning you won't.»
«Meaning I can't. You've dreamed up a hypothetical situation in which a — pardon me — major executive of a global network could speak to the Secretary General. But I can't hand this entree to somebody else. Look, Jubal, I respect you. The network would hate to lose you and we are painfully aware that you won't let us tie you down to a contract. But I
«Suppose I sign an exclusive seven-year contract?»
Mackenzie looked as if his teeth hurt. «I still couldn't. I'd lose my job — and you would have to carry out your contract.»
Jubal considered calling Mike into pickup and naming him. But Mackenzie's own programs had run the fake «Man from Mars» interviews — and Mackenzie was either in on the hoax — or he was honest, as Jubal thought, and would not believe that he had been hoaxed. «All right, Tom. But you know your way around in the government. Who calls Douglas whenever he likes — and gets him? I don't mean Sanforth.»
«No one.»
«Damn it, no man lives in a vacuum! There must be people who can phone him and not get brushed off by a secretary.»
«Some of his cabinet, I suppose. Not all of them.»
«I don't know any of them, either. I don't mean politicos. Who can call him on a private line and invite him to play poker?»
«Um … you don't want much, do you? Well, there's Jake Allenby.»
«I've met him. He doesn't like me. I don't like him. He knows it.»
«Douglas doesn't have many intimate friends. His wife rather discourages — Say, Jubal… how do you feel about astrology?»
«Never touch the stuff. Prefer brandy.»
«Well, that's a matter of taste. But — see here, Jubal, if you ever let on I told you this, I'll cut your lying throat.»
«Noted. Agreed. Proceed.»
«Well, Agnes Douglas
«I don't recall any astrologers on my Christmas card list,» Jubal answered dubiously. «What's his name?»
