"To murder him, sir?" the TV announcer inquired.
"That right; that what we hear."
"And what do you propose to do about it, assuming this to be true?"
"Well, we plan on goin' in there. That what we plan." Leopold Haskins glanced about self-consciously. "They told us that we going to get him out if at all possible, so that why I'm here; I'm here to keep the Library from doin' that terrible thing they plan on doin'."
"Will the police try to stop you, do you think?"
"Uh, no," Leopold Haskins said, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "The L.A. police, they hate the Library bad as we do."
"And why is that, sir?"
"The L.A. police know," Haskins said, "that it was the Library that kilt that policeman yesterday, that Officer Tinbane."
"We were told--"
"I know what you were told," Haskins said excitedly, his voiôe rising to a falsetto, "but it wasn't any 'religious fanatics' like they said. They know who did it and we know who did it."
The camera switched, then, to focus on an ill-at-ease very thin Negro wearing a white shirt and dark trousers. "Sir," the TV announcer said, mike in hand, "can we have your name, please?"
"Jonah L. Sawyer," the thin Negro said in a rasping voice.
"And why are you here today, sir?"
"The reason I'm here," Sawyer said, "is because that Library won't listen to no reason and won't let the Anarch out."
"And you're assembled here to get him out."
"That right, sir; we here to get him out." Sawyer nodded earnestly.
The TV announcer asked, "And how, specifically, do you propose to do that, sir? Do the Uditi have definite plans?"
"Well, we got our elite organization, the Offspring of Might, and they in charge; they the ones that ask us to come here today. I of course not know specifically what they plan to do, but--"
"But you think they can do it."
"Yes, I think they can do it." Sawyer nodded.
"Thank you very much, Mr. Sawyer," the TV announcer holding the mike said. He then metamorphosed into his later self, seated--live--at his desk, with a stack of news bulletins before him. "Shortly before six this evening," he continued, "the crowd around the People's Topical Library, by then several thousand in number, became extremely tense, as if sensing that something was about to happen. And happen it did. From out of nowhere, or so it seemed, a cannon appeared and began poorly aimed, sporadic firing, lobbing shell after shell on the large gray stone building comprising the People's Topical Library. At this, the crowd went wild." The TV screen now showed the crowd going wild, milling and shouting, faces ecstatic. "Earlier in the day I talked with Los Angeles Police Chief Michael Harrington and asked whether or not the Library had requested police assistance. Here is what Chief Harrington had to say."
The screen now showed a thick-necked white, with pocked skin and codfish eyes, wearing a uniform and glancing about slyly as he wet his lips to speak. "The People's Topical Library," he intoned in a loud, assertive voice, as if making a formal speech, "have made no such request. We have made various attempts to contact them, but our understanding is that at approximately four-thirty this afternoon all Library personnel vacated the building, and that it is now empty, pending the disposition of the matter of this disorderly, illegal crowd and their intentions toward the Library." He paused, chewed his cud. "I have also been told--but this has not been confirmed, to my knowledge--that a militant faction of the Udi people has plans to use an atomic warhead cannon against the Library building in an effort to smash it open so that the crowd can then rush in and rescue their former leader, the Anarch Thomas Peak, whom they assume to be there."
"_Is_ the Anarch Peak in there, Chief Harrington?" the TV announcer asked.
"To our knowledge," the L.A. police chief answered, "the Anarch Peak may well be in there. We do not know for sure." His voice faded off, as if he had his mind somewhere else; continually he glanced at something or someone out of the corner of his eye. "No, we have no knowledge of that one way or another."
"If the Anarch were in there," the announcer said, "as the Uditi appear to believe, would they, in your opinion, be justified in attempting forced entry? As they seem bent on? Or do you regard--"
"We regard this crowd," Chief Harrington said, "as constituting an unlawful assembly, and we have already made several arrests. At the present time we are attempting to persuade them to disband."
Again the announcer rematerialized at his desk, handsomely attired and unruffled. "The crowd," he stated, "did not disband as Chief Harrington hoped. And now, from later reports directly at the scene, we understand as we said before that the atomic cannon referred to by Chief Harrington has in fact appeared, and we further understand is at this moment doing considerable damage to the Library building. We will interrupt our regular programs during the evening to keep you informed of the progress of this virtually pitched battle between the proponents of the cult of Udi, as represented by the noisy, milling, and quite angry, crowd, and the--"
Sebastian shut the TV set off.
"It's a good thing," Lotta said thoughtfully. "The Library disappearing. I'm glad it's gone."
"It's not gone. They'll rebuild. The whole staff and all the Erads got out; you heard what the TV said. Don't get your hopes up." He rose from the couch where he had been sitting and began to pace.
"We're probably safe for a little while," Lotta pointed out. "The Offspring are tied up trying to get into the Library; they're probably so busy they've forgotten about us."
"But they'll remember us again," he said. "When they're through with the Library." He thought, I wonder if by some miracle they could possibly reach the Anarch before he's killed. My god, he thought; I wonder... it's theoretically possible, at least.
But he knew, in his heart, that it would not work out that way. The Anarch would never be seen again alive; he knew it, the Anarch had known it, and the Uditi knew it. Ray Roberts and the Uditi knew it most of all.
"Turn the news back on," Lotta requested, restlessly.
He did so.
And saw, on the screen, the face of Mavis McGuire.
"Mrs. McGuire," the TV announcer was saying, "this attack on your Library--have you made any statement to the crowd to the effect that you are _not_ holding their former spiritual leader? Or do you think such a frank announcement would have the desired effect of quieting them?"
Mrs. McGuire said in her severe, frigid voice, "Early today, we called in representatives of the news media and read them a prepared statement. I will read it to you again, if you wish; will somebody--thanks." She received a sheet of paper, glanced over it, and then began to read in her crisp, no-nonsense Library voice. "'Because of the presence of Mr. Ray Roberts in Los Angeles at this time, religious bigotry has been fanned by a considerable--and deliberate--flame of intended violence. That the People's Topical Library is a prime target earmarked for this violence does not surprise us, inasmuch as the Library stands for the maintenance of the physical and spiritual institutions of present-day society--institutions the overthrow of which the so-called Uditi have a vested interest in. As regards the use of police to protect us, we welcome any assistance which Chief Harrington may render, but incidents of this kind date back to the Watts riot in the 1960s and their constant recurrence-"
"Oh God," Lotta said, clapping her hands to her ears and gazing at him with stricken fear. "That voice; that awful voice, babbling away at me--" She shuddered.
"We aLso talked to Miss Ann Fisher," the TV news announcer said, "the daughter of Chief Librarian Mavis McGuire. And she had this to say." The screen now showed Ann, in the living room of her conapt, seated across from the TV camera and announcer; she looked poised and pretty and calm, undisturbed by what was taking place.