Frederick sat down.
“Besides,” Kori said to him, “they get to spend the money we were using on themselves.”
Professor DeVreis was up again. “Minister Kobryn, you have sentenced several thousand men, women and children to permanent exile. We naturally reject this decision in its entirety. It is completely antithetical to the spirit of the world government and the liberty of mankind. We demand a fair and open hearing before the Council of Ministers, the Assembly, and the World Court.”
Kobryn’s face hardened. His giant image loomed over the frail old man. “You do not understand. The decision has been made. It is final. There is no appeal. We will begin transporting you to the orbital station tomorrow.”
The viewscreen went blank, leaving them all sitting there stunned into silence.
10
By mid-afternoon the next day, a dozen men and their families had been taken from the villa by silent men in unmarked uniforms. The Kaufmans and the Sutherlands were the first to go.
Take the leaders first and the rest are easy to handle, Lou said to himself.
He wandered through the villa aimlessly. Everybody seemed to be in shock. People huddled in small groups, family groups mostly, talking in low and frightened tones. Lou was alone, a complete outsider. No family, not even his girl.
Again and again a shining black minibus would pull up the driveway and two men would get out. Unsmilingly, they would go through the rambling old house until they found the person they were looking for. A few moments of conversation, and then a family would follow the men out to the driveway, wide-eyed and shaken, to be bundled into the minibus and whisked away.
Lou stood on the balcony above the main entrance and watched one of the buses grind up the driveway, swaying top-heavily, and then swing out onto the road kicking up a plume of dust. It had showered the evening before, but the land was bone dry again this afternoon. Lou looked up. The sky was bright, but off on the sea horizon there were black clouds building up again.
A sleek little turbocar was coming down the road toward the villa, top down, two men in the front seat. It swung into the driveway in a flurry of dust and skid-screeching wheels, and pulled up to the entrance. Sitting next to the driver was the Norseman. He glanced up at the balcony and grinned.
“Very cooperative of you to be waiting for us,” he called to Lou. “Will you join us, please?”
Despite himself, Lou felt startled. It’s my turn already.
“Mr. Christopher,” the Norseman said, “you won’t try anything foolish, I hope.”
Lou glared at him. Without a word of answer he turned and went inside to find the stairs that led down to the front hall.
The sky was filling up with thunderheads and the late afternoon sunlight had that threatening, electrical yellow cast, with the damp sweet smell of an impending storm. It was cool and exhilarating in the back seat of the convertible, the wind clean and strong, tearing at your hair and clothes, making you squint your eyes and press your lips shut as the car roared along. They had come down the dusty coast road and turned onto a broad plastisteel throughway. For many miles the convertible was the only car on the road, but gradually the traffic built up. Now Lou could see the towers of a city off among the distant hills, and big trailer trucks were whizzing along beside them on air-cushion jets, streaking toward that city.
Lou knew better than to ask questions. Conversation from the back seat of the speeding car was next to impossible anyhow, even if they could or would answer. He simply sat there, enjoying the wind and watching the clouds blot out the sunshine and make the countryside look dark and gloomy.
Take a good look, he told himself. It’s probably the last time you’ll ever see any of this.
They barely beat the rain. The convertible, still top down, threaded through a maze of elevated highways at the city’s outskirts and then dove into a tunnel as the first big drops splattered on Lou’s bare legs. The tunnel must have had acoustic insulation of some sort, because even though the car didn’t slow down, the roar of its turbine didn’t echo and thunder the way it would have in a normal tunnel. They pulled into an underground garage and stopped in front of an unmarked doorway. The Norseman got out and held the door open for Lou. As soon as they were both out of the car, the driver revved the engine and drove off.
The Norseman led Lou into the building, down a hallway, and to an elevator that was waiting with its door open. He was watching Lou warily, and stayed slightly behind him, out of reach, as Lou stepped into the elevator cab. Then he walked in, flicked a finger at the topmost button on the control panel, and the doors swished shut.
As the elevator slid smoothly upward, the Norseman turned to Lou. “I understand that you people are being moved to a satellite.”
“We’re being exiled,” Lou said, feeling his anger returning.
“Yes, so I heard.”
“For life.”
The Norseman nodded.
“Whole families. Several thousand people.”
“I know… I’m sorry.”
“Did you know it when you brought me here from the States?”
He shook his head.
“Would it have made any difference to you if you had known what they were going to do with us?”
The Norseman looked at Lou. “I was only doing my job…”
“Would it have made any difference?” Lou insisted.
“Well… no, I don’t suppose it would have.”
“Then don’t tell me you’re sorry.”
“But…”
“Stuff it.”
The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. Lou had expected to see a hallway, a corridor. But instead he stepped directly into a huge, sumptuously furnished room. Thick red carpeting, a long conference table surrounded by tall comfortable chairs, all in the rich brown of real wood. Two of the walls were a smooth cream color, a third was splashed with an abstract mural. The far end of the room was plastiglass, but all Lou could see through the windows was mist and the streaks of raindrops. There was a massive desk near the windows, its black leather swivel chair unoccupied at the moment. The air felt cool and clean, the room even seemed to smell of authority and power.
“You will wait here,” the Norseman said.
Lou turned back and realized that his escort hadn’t gotten out of the elevator. The doors slid shut with a soft sigh.
Completely puzzled, Lou walked across the big room to the windows. His steps made no sound on the luxurious carpet. It was raining so hard now that the city was only a blurred gray outline. Then Lou heard a door open. He turned and saw a smiling middle-aged man enter. He was shorter than Lou, stocky but not yet turning soft. H is hair was still thick and dark, although his forehead had started to recede. He wore a light business suit.
“Mr. Christopher, a pleasure to meet you,” he said, gesturing toward one of the plush chairs by the desk.
He spoke with a European accent of some sort, Lou couldn’t place it. And Lou had the feeling that he had seen this man before, on Tri’-V newscasts, perhaps.
“My name is Rolf Bernard,” he said, taking the chair behind the desk. “That probably means nothing to you. The Finance Ministry is often behind the news, but seldom in it.”
“Of course,” Lou said. “The Minister of Finance.”
Bernard smiled. “You know my name? I am flattered.”
“I… uh…”
“Yes. You are wondering why you are here. It is very simple. Not everyone in the Council of Ministers is a monster, Mr. Christopher. The decision to exile you and your colleagues was not a unanimous one, I assure you.”
Lou felt more puzzled than ever.