The newcomer put out a long, hard hand. “Major Caine, Captain Hawkins.”
Jim shook first. “Yes, sir. It’s been quite a while.”
“That is correct. You were on my staff briefly there in Bangkok, weren’t you, Captain?” He turned to Bert.
Bert shook his hand, and said, “Not major, mister. And my name is now Albert Alshuler.”
The other looked at him quizzically. “I seem to remember tendering you a decoration once, ah, Alshuler. In those days you were referred to as Killer Caine.”
“And you were General Bugs Paul. But that was in those days, not now.”
The flush that came barely made it through the tan. The general said, abruptly, “The professor is awaiting us in his study.” He turned and started off, adding over his shoulder, “I came to welcome you since the staff has been dismissed. We wished the utmost of privacy.”
Bert and Jim fell in.
Bert said conversationally, “Ain’t this quite a layout for a university professor?”
The general said, “Leonard Katz has private means.”
“I’ll bet he has.”
The study let off the garden and they entered it through French windows. It was obviously a scholar’s retreat, no attempt being made to live up to the ostentation of the rest of the establishment. The room was lined with books, largely old and battered, in a day when books have given way to the library boosters connected with the National Data Banks. There was a wide range of paintings on the walls and Bert, no great authority, decided that they were undoubtedly originals. He recognized at least two, a Picasso and a Degas. He had never seen an original of either before, outside a museum. There was a fireplace that evidently was actually utilized, either that or the logs stacked to one side were a clever bit of business. There was a bar in one corner, and there were old style rifles and shotguns in a rack and several heads of game displayed, including a huge American buffalo.
Professor Leonard Katz was seated, a book in hand, in a battered red easy chair of the old type seldom seen in these days. He came to his feet when they entered, put the book on a cocktail table and came forward to meet them.
He nodded to Bert Alshuler, shook hands and then turned to Jim Hawkins, his eyebrows high.
The general said, “This is former Captain James Hawkins, once of my staff before the forming of the Elite Service in which he was Major Caine’s second in command.”
“Hawkins, Professor Leonard Katz.”
“Alshuler,” Bert said, “not Caine.”
Leonard Katz said, “I see.” He shook with Jim Hawkins. “And why did you come to this meeting, my dear Hawkins?”
Jim wasn’t the type to be easily thrown off. He grinned and said, “When trouble started brewing up for Bert, it seemed just natural for me to come along for the trip.” His voice altered just slightly. “I’m riding shotgun.”
“Very well,” Katz said. “Sit down, gentlemen. Is it too early in the day to offer you a drink? General, will you do the honors?”
Jim was the only customer. He winked at Bert. It wasn’t every day you had a three star general rushing the drinks for you.
When they were all seated, the professor leaned forward, put his fingertips together and looked at Bert. “I understand that you have been having some second thoughts about our… project.”
Bert crossed his legs, relaxed and said, “It was pointed out to me yesterday that the story of my ranking highest in Ability Quotient was a bit hard to swallow. My fellow nominee for the project indicated my reputation suggested that my true abilities lay in a different field.”
“Very well, and to what conclusion did this bring you, my dear Alshuler?”
“That The Establishment, as they used to call it, has something up its sleeve and that I’ve been elected one of the patsies…” He turned his eyes to Jim Hawkins. “Isn’t patsy one of the old terms, Jim?”
Jim jiggled his glass and said approvingly, “You’re getting on, Killer. Patsy is good.”
Bert turned back to the professor and general. “Elected one of the patsies to pull some of the chestnuts out of the fire. They must be some rather hot chestnuts, considering my reputation—which I’ve been trying to get away from since demobilization.”
The general was irritated. He said abruptly, “See here, Caine, have you ever wondered why The Establishment, so called, became The Establishment?”
Bert looked at him politely, and waited.
“It became The Establishment because those who consisted of it were capable enough to become well established in a dog-eat-dog world. You don’t become established in this world of ours without having more than average on the ball. You know that from your military career. You were inducted a private and were discharged a major, the most decorated man to come out of the Asian War. You, yourself, are part of The Establishment.”
“Oh now, really,” Bert Alshuler said. “Until the professor’s offer came along, I was on Guaranteed Annual Income. Not exactly munificence.”
“That was possibly your own fault. I understand that you were offered a dozen lucrative positions by various corporations.”
“Based on my name. Based on being Killer Caine. I was even offered stardom in some Tri-Di shows. No thanks.”
The general said, with a bit more heat, The point is that The Establishment—a foolish term—has evolved, Caine. As always, power concentrates. Europe was a hundred thousand small fiefs and baronies during Medieval times. Slowly, she coalesced into kingdoms, then empires. Today, she is Common Europe, one whole. When that term, The Establishment, was first used, it included millions of persons. It included everyone who had an interest in the status quo. It is no longer millions. It has coalesced into a comparative handful. You are being given the chance to become part of this super-establishment, Major Caine.”
Jim looked at his old buddy and lifted his eyebrows mockingly.
Bert ignored him and said to the general, “Albert Alshuler, not Major Caine.”
“See here, Caine. I can turn to that phone screen over there and get in touch with the Octagon. And in half an hour you’ll be called up from reserve… possibly as a private, rather than with a major’s rank.”
Bert ran a palm over his mouth. “I don’t advise trying, General. That’s one thing about being a national hero. You throw weight. If I howl, the news boys have a field day.”
The professor, urgency in his voice, said, “Gentlemen, gentlemen. This is nonsense, I fear. Mr. Alshuler has unfortunately picked up some incorrect ideas.”
Bert looked at him in turn. “Kay. You tell me the right ones. Why was Killer Caine picked for this project?”
“For the very reason I told you.”
“My I.Q. doesn’t exactly brand me a genius.”
“We didn’t go solely by I.Q., my dear Alshuler. I told you that. We went by your Ability Quotient, only one element of which involves I.Q. Your I.Q., by the way, is 132 which puts you in the Very Superior category. But your Ability Quotient is composed of a score of other tests as well. How do you think you became Killer Caine, surviving where so many died? It was because of your quick reflexes, your ability to act coolly in the, ah, crunch, I believe you call it. It was your dexterity, your intuitive reactions in emergency. It is all these things which make up your Ability Quotient.”
“Man,” Jim chuckled. “My old buddy.”
The general looked at him. “Your own Ability Quotient was almost as high, Captain.”
Bert said, “So it was you who decided, eh?” He turned back to Leonard Katz. “What’s going on? Under these shots and pills Marsh has been giving me, I’ll be able to wade through every course this university offers in months, if not weeks.”