Michaelmas put his hand behind his head and tugged hard forward against the stiffened muscles of his neck. “What is the scenario?”
Frontiere’s voice was perfectly emotionless. “A timed destruct sequence and false telemetry in the module, backed by computerized false voice transmissions from an overhead station — probably from Kosmgorod. It was in an appropriate position, and the on-shift crew was almost one hundred per cent Soviet. Meanwhile, a pre-set booster sabotage sequence was running concurrently somewhere else in the system. By the time Norwood discovered the false telemetry sender, the destruct sequence was practically at completion. He extracted the sender and jumped; the booster blew immediately thereafter, and the telemetry gap is so slight as to be undetectable. That’s how Norwood has reconstructed it, and he was the engineer on the spot.”
“And the Soviet motive?”
“To reignite Soviet nationalism and establish Communist pre-eminence under the guise of world brotherhood.”
“You think so?”
Frontiere looked up. “What do you expect of me?” he said sharply. “Norwood says it, Norwood has turned over to us the Soviet telemetry sender, and Kosmgorod has already made a. computer simulation which times out to exactly that possible sequence. What do you think we were doing all night and morning? Washing our hands?”
Michaelmas’s tongue made a noise like a dry twig snapping. “What are you going to do?” He got abruptly to his feet, but then simply stood with his hands resting on the back of his chair and his eyes almost unseeing on the terminal, lying OFF upon the table.
“We don’t know.” Frontiere looked at Michaelmas with the wide eyes of a man staring out of a burning building. He shrugged. “What can we do? If it is true, UNAC is finished. If it is not true, what is true? Can we find what is true before UNAC is finished? Our own man is the best witness against us, and he is absolutely convinced. And convincing. To hear him speak of it is to doubt no one syllable. He has had months in hospital; his time has been spent analytically. Facts and figures issue from him unerringly. He is—he is like a man with an axe, chopping down the bridge across the world.”
Michaelmas snorted. “Hmm.”
“You find it amusing?”
“No. No! Resume your seat, please. No offence was meant. I take it Ossip ordered Norwood to be silent?”
“Of course. Ossip has the sender and is en route to Star Control to have it analysed. Perhaps Norwood made an error in evaluation, using Limberg’s facilities; perhaps better apparatus and better circumstances will show it is a counterfeit. Nevertheless, we halted Papashvilly from coming to Berne. He was at the aerodrome, boarding a courier craft to come here, and suddenly he was stopped at the gate by frantic staff people and hustled back to the Star Control complex. Dozens of people of all kinds saw it. Someone in the media will soon know about it. The Soviet Union will certainly react in some manner calculated to redress the insult. The ripples are spreading. We have very little time, Laurent. We have less than we might; we have the horse-eater, Limberg, to deal with.”
Michaelmas’s mouth twitched. “What of him?”
Frontiere held up a hand, its fingers spread. “What not of him? First, he holds Norwood and never says a word until he is fully assured everything is perfect. One has to wonder : had Norwood died, would Limberg ever have told anyone? Had he been somewhat warped, would Limberg have sacrificed him like any other human guinea pig? But never mind that. Second, he lets Norwood, for therapy— for therapy—construct for himself a little engineering analysis workbench in a corner somewhere. Third, he gives him time on a house computer to run the simulation so Norwood can have it all on tape for us when Sakal says we need one. For therapy. Fourth, he tells us it is our duty to the world to release the news of the telemetry device, in the name of justice and doing the right thing for Norwood and all brave people caught in the toils of international conspiracy. And he has of course photographs as well as holograms of the telemetry device, and a file copy of the simulation tape, since they were of course made in his house from his facilities. Fifth, therefore, it would be unwise for UNAC to suppress this news on the immoral grounds of self-preservation.” Frontiere’s right forefinger thudded audibly as he ticked off each point on his left hand. He wiped his lips. “Brutto,” he said softly.
“And what do you think of his motivation?” Michaelmas asked.
“Glory. The little sniffer sees himself of millennial stature.” Frontiere shook his head. “Forgive me, Laurent. You know I’m not like this often.” He thudded his hand down upon the table. “The truth! He claims to speak for truth!”
“And you for exasperation. What did you do when he exposed you to that?” Michaelmas asked.
“Ossip did it. He is not a man to lie down. First, he told Norwood that if one word of this got out before he had time to check it completely, one way or the other, there would never be the slightest chance of Norwood’s going on the expedition. Then he told Limberg the press conference would take place immediately, and that not a hint of the accusations would be given. He wants as much time as possible before the American and the Soviet general public formulate their mass opinions. He said Limberg could talk as much as he wished about his medical abilities but if he attempted anything more, it would be total war between Limberg and UNAC until one or the other exhausted its resources. And was that clear?”
Michaelmas pursed his lips. “And Limberg and Norwood agreed?”
“Why not? Norwood is under discipline as a UNAC assignee, and what has Limberg to lose? If a few hours go by and then the news gets out, Limberg looks better and UNAC looks worse than ever. For the sake of his glory! This tantalizer of birds, this connoisseur of things to be found in a garden, this — Laurent, please, you must do for us whatever you can.”
“Yes, I must,” Michaelmas said. “But what can that be?”
He began moving about the room, his hands reaching out to touch the handles of a breakfront, the pulls of the drapes, the switches on the little lights above the painting. “If it’s not true, there’s no problem. I can reinforce whatever facts you announce, we can play it correctly - well, hell, Getulio, we know how that’s done - but what to do if the facts confirm Norwood’s story?” He turned and stared at the public relations man. “Eh? What then?”
Frontiere looked at him uncomfortably. “Well, Ossip is of course due in conference momentarily with the entire UNAC directorship, and all eventualities will be considered.”
“What does that mean?”
Frontiere’s gaze steadied and he folded his arms. “You have always been a very good friend to us, Laurent. You have shared our ideal from the beginning. We understand the call for objectivity in your position. However, the fact is that you have always been slow to elaborate anything detrimental about us. To the contrary, you have been energetic in confirming what is good for us.”
Michaelmas put up a hand swiftly. “Because taken day in and out, UNAC is one of the excellent and well-run ideas of the late twentieth century.” He studied Frontiere’s expression, peering forward as if there were not quite enough light to show him all he wanted to examine. “What else are you hoping for? That in this case Laurent Michaelmas will lend himself to whatever UNAC directorship wants, no matter what? Even if Norwood’s story is proven true?”