“Now I’m testing everything at or near the Star Control complex that has to do with safety, beginning with things that might affect Major Papashvilly. I—ah, yes, here’s another. Last week, a routine change was made in the power-supply divider of his personal car. The old one had reached the end of its guarantee period. But the new one never came from dealer or jobber stock. It’s in there, because the car has drawn power several times since the change was logged. But I have rechecked every inventory record at every point between the car and the manufacturer’s work order for producing spares, and the count is off. Papashvilly has something in his vehicle that looks like a correct spare and acts like a correct spare, or Star Control’s personnel garagemen would have noticed. But it was never manufactured at any known point, and I don’t know what else it might be able to do besides ration electrons. So that’s two, and I’m still checking.”
“All because EVM says Russkis are headbreakers.”
“And because Cikoumas et Cie recently opened a Cité d’Afrique branch. The managing director is Konstantinos Cikoumas, a younger brother, who is very energetic in signing wholesale date contracts, and who also has spent his time vigorously making friendships and acquaintances, to say nothing of casual contacts. In his few African months, so close to Star Control, Kosta Cikoumas has become personally known to thousands, and is seen everywhere. He is, you should know, a supplier to Star Control’s various restaurants and its staff cafeterias. His trucks run back and forth, and his employees are up and down the elevators frequently with their boxes and bales. That’s what started me looking, really. I would never have found these things otherwise — Oh, damn, here’s something odd about a fire-door mechanism! These people are resourceful. None of these differences feel large enough to be visible on routine inspection. Every one of them is passive until it’s needed, and I would guess that the extra features probably burn after use. Every one of them is in position to affect a life-threatening situation. God damn. They almost smoked all of this past me.”
“But you put two and two together.”
“That’s right. I’m developing intuition. Satisfied?”
“Pleased.”
“Well, it may give you extra joy to know that I’ve decided you’re not crazy after all.”
“Oh, have you been thinking that?”
“From Day One,” Domino said.
“From last night?”
“No. From Day One. Well, now—how about this? Cikoumas et Cie has never purchased any electronic components, or anything from which modern electronics can be manufactured, that I can’t account for. Not in Europe, not in Africa. Nothing. So where do they get them?”
“Suppose it’s not Cikoumas.”
“Please,” Domino said. “It has to be Cikoumas. My intuitions are never wrong.”
“What are you doing to protect Papashvilly now?” Michaelmas asked after a pause.
“I have failed the circuits on his apartment door. He is locked in, and trouble is locked out. Should he discover this, I will modify any call he makes to Building Maintenance. I will open that door only to people I’m sure are okay, and I will extend similar methods to cover them and him.”
“That can only be a short-term measure.”
“Granted. We’ll have to crack this soon. But it’s a measure, and I’ve taken it. What else can I do?”
Michaelmas sat and watched the car progress toward the airport. What else could he do?
The interior of the UNAC executive aircraft featured two short rows of double seats, a rear lounge, and a private cabin forward. It was all done in muted blues and silver tones, with the UN flag and the UNAC crest in sculpted silver metal on the lounge partition above the bar. Michaelmas came up the lowered stairs with a gateman carrying his bag, and as soon as he was aboard the cabin attendant swung the door shut. The engines whined up. “Welcome aboard, Mr Michaelmas,” the attendant said. “Signor Frontiere is waiting for you in the office.”
“Thank you.” Michaelmas glanced up the aisle. The seats were about half full of various people, many of whom he recognized as UNAC press relations staff. Norwood, Campion, a pair of aides, and Clementine Gervaise were chatting easily in the lounge. Michaelmas stepped quickly through the cabin door. Frontiere looked up from a seat in one corner. The room was laid out like a small parlour, for easy conversation. “It’s nice to have you with us, Laurent,” he said, waving toward an adjacent seat. “Please. As soon as you fasten your belt, we can be away.”
“Yes, of course.” He settled in, and the brakes came off almost at the same instant. The plane taxied briskly away from the gate pad, swung sharply on to the runway, and plunged into its takeoff roll. Michaelmas peered interestedly through the side window, watching parked aircraft and service vehicles flash by beyond the almost perfectly non-reflecting dull black wing, until he felt the thump of the landing gear retracting and saw the last few checker-painted outbuildings at the end of the runway drifting backward below him. The plane climbed steeply away from Berne, arcing over the tops of the mountains. Michaelmas exhaled softly and leaned back. He arranged
Domino’s terminal against his thigh. “Well, Getulio! I see Douglas Campion is well established on board.”
“Ah, yes, he is being entertained in the lounge. He will be shooting an interview with Norwood here, and I of course will have to be present. But I thought, for the first few minutes of our journey…” He reached into an ice bucket fixed beside him, chose two chilled glasses, and poured Lambrusco. “It does no harm, and it may be of value.” He lifted his glass to Michaelmas. “A domani.”
So now we’re supposed to be friends again. Well, we are —of course we are. Michaelmas raised his glass. “Alle ragazze.”
“Alla vittoria.”
They smiled at each other. “You understand I must give this Campion precedence ?”
“And why not? He came to you with a firm offer after I had equivocated.”
“Do you know him?”
“I met him last night for the first time. His reputation is good.”
“His experience is light. But he did quite well at the press conference. And he has this star, Gervaise, for a director. Also, EVM does very good production; I am told your sequence from the sanatorium was very much up to your standards. They have a brand-new Macht Dirigent computer and an ultramodern editing programme that only CBS and Funkbeobachter also have as yet. Their managers have not been afraid to spend money, and they appear wise. It makes good points for the young man.” Frontiere smiled. “And it gives me some assurance of quality.”
“And you have assurances from him?”
Frontiere’s upper lip was fleetingly nipped between his teeth. He nodded, his eyes downcast. Oh, yes, Michaelmas thought, Getulio Frontiere does not bring me in here, and apologize for what is about to be done, unless something firm has been promised his client.
“Campion has a viable proposition,” Frontiere said. “Even though Colonel Norwood may have appeared healthy and alert at the sanatorium, after such a radical accident extensive tests must be performed. And even after that, who can promise no subtle injuries might be waiting to emerge under mission stress? But this is a difficult thing to explain to the public without seeming to demean Norwood. I should explain to you, Laurent,” Frontiere said gently, “that it was Campion who pointed this out to me. He feels it is his duty to interview Norwood with dignity, but in a thorough manner so that this aspect of the situation emerges in Norwood’s own responses. He is concerned, he says, that public pressure not force a situation where both Norwood and this weighty mission might be jeopardized. It is only for this reason that this rising young little-known newsman wishes to make the first in-depth exclusive interview with the resurrected hero. He is very civic-minded, your colleague.”