The Mate and the Steward followed him into the house. Hanson walked beside the Captain, evidently delivering some last-minute instructions. A few minutes later I heard a car engine starting from the direction of the front of the house. As it droned away, Hanson returned.
“Hanson, you’re having a busy night tonight,” Mavis greeted him. “If you’re always this busy, I wonder that you don’t get confused sometimes.”
“What do you mean?”
“What with poking holes in contraceptives so they’re useless, and dipping birth-control pills in the milk of Maltese goats so the users will get Malta Fever, you’re really sending the European birth-rate soaring. If Malta is any example, you’re very successful. But aren’t you ever afraid it might backfire with you and my baby sister here? Don’t you ever worry that you might fall victim to one of your own diabolical devices? Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that you might make me an aunt unintentionally?”
“Bite your tongue!” Leslie told her, green eyes flashing under red curls. “I’m no fertile Myrtle. I’m going to be part of S.M.U.T., not one of its slaves.”
“Speaking of slaves—” The mild voice spoke for the first time. It was high-pitched, but there was no telling whether it was a man’s voice or a woman’s. “—What about the Pacific operation? That’s where our first labor force must come from. I do hope there aren’t as many snags there as there seem to be in the Western scheme of things.”
“No worry there,” Bruce said confidently. “We’re ahead of schedule. The idea of smuggling the goats to Hanson here and having him breed them was a stroke of genius. As soon as Cronin catches up, the distribution is all set up to see that every man, woman and child from Australia and Micronesia clear to Tahiti will be drinking Maltese goat’s milk.”
“It’s not my fault,” the hunchback whined resentfully. “I’m trying to get coordinated. But my plantation is set up to grow rubber and process it, not for bottling milk. I still think that part should have been done here.”
“Too risky, Cronin,” Hanson told him. “We’re too close to Manila. And that’s all been decided. You just see that you do your part.”
“Yes,” Bruce added. “Make sure that you do, Hanson.”
“All right. I will. I will,” Cronin the hunchback assured them.
“We all will,” the male-female voice said in a conciliatory tone, “And now, if there is nothing else, I trust you gentlemen won’t mind if I retire.”
“Of course,” Hanson said, reverting to his role of host. “I hope you sleep well, Dr. Palaro.”
“I trust we all will,” Dr. Palaro replied. “Good night, all.”
“We should all turn in,” Bruce said. “It’s been a long day.” He didn’t look tired, though. He looked as fresh and crisp as if the evening were just starting.
“Yes, I too am tired,” Cronin agreed. He stretched as if to prove the point, and his hump swelled almost obscenely with the gesture.
Hanson started to follow Bruce and Cronin into the house. “Are you coming, Leslie?” he asked, pausing in the doorway.
“In a few minutes,” she answered. “I want to chat with Mavis a while first. After all, it’s an occasion when one gets to see one’s only sister for the first time in three years.”
“Very well." Hanson turned on his heel and left.
“I envy you your husband,” Mavis said frankly when she and Leslie were alone on the verandah. “He’s such an admirable man compared to the milksop I married.”
“Well, you’re pretty much rid of him now,” Leslie told her. “Just see that your envy doesn’t become too ambitious. Hanson may be admirable, but he is a man with a man’s weaknesses.”
“Is that true?” Mavis sounded interested. “Oh, don’t worry,” she added quickly. “I haven’t any designs on him -— none that need concern you immediately, anyway. It’s just that I’ve always wondered about Hanson.”
“Wondered?”
“Yes. About his role in S.M.U.T. He gives the orders, and everybody accepts them unquestioningly. Could he really be the head of S.M.U.T. Is he, Leslie? You can tell me. I’ll respect your confidence.”
“I don’t know,” Leslie answered.
“What do you mean you don’t know? You’re his wife, aren’t you? Surely you’d know something like that.”
“But I wouldn’t!” Leslie insisted. “Hanson never confides in me. Sometimes he makes decisions and acts on them so quickly that I’m sure he must be the mysterious head man. But other times I’m not so sure. The truth is that I’m as curious and as in the dark about who the real head is as you are.”
“But if it isn’t Hanson, who else could it be? I mean, he passed on some very high policy decisions tonight. Nobody questioned them. Surely if he wasn’t the man behind S.M.U.T., the others wouldn’t accept what he says so readily.”
“Unless it’s one of the others who tells him what to say and who’s really the power,” Leslie mused.
“But surely you’d know that. Who does he talk to?”
“All of them. And I wouldn’t know it. Hanson treats me like a child where S.M.U.T. is concerned.”
“But if not Hanson, then it must be one of the others,” Mavis insisted. “There is nobody else.”
“That’s true,” Leslie agreed. She thought a moment. “Maybe it’s Bruce,” she said. “He commands as much respect as Hanson does from the rest.”
“Do you really think a Negro could be the power behind S.M.U.T.?”
“Why not?” Leslie shrugged. “He certainly has the brains and the culture and the personality to command men. And in a world that’s three-quarters colored, his being a Negro could be an asset.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Mavis granted. “Well, if he decided to start a royal succession, I’d be all too happy to cooperate with him in the endeavor.”
“He certainly is handsome, isn’t he? But just how willing would you be to cooperate if Cronin turned out to be the head man?”
“Impossible!” Mavis shuddered. “That hunchback could never be the one.”
“Why not? He’s a very brilliant man, you know. And his kowtowing attitude might just be a blind to throw people off. From listening to him speak, I know he has a great thirst for power. He has just the sort of shrewd mind that might conceive and execute an idea like S.M.U.T.”
“Well, you know him better than I do,” Mavis acknowledged. “But I’d still find it hard to believe.” She thought a moment. “What about Dr. What’s-his-name?” she asked finally.
“Perhaps. It’s a possibility.”
“ ‘It,’ ” Mavis repeated. “That sort of says it for the doctor, doesn’t it? All night long I’ve been trying to decide if ‘it’s’ a man, or a woman.”
“I’ve been trying to decide for over a year,” Leslie told her, “and I still couldn’t say.”
“Did you ever ask Hanson?”
“Yes. But he only laughed. He said Dr. Palaro was both, or neither, depending on how you looked at it.”
“A hermaphrodite? ”
“I think that’s what he meant.”
“A true hermaphrodite is very rare,” Mavis mused. “But has it occurred to you that it would fit in with the whole anti-sex, pro-population explosion idea behind S.M.U.T.?”
“I suppose it would.”
“And if Dr. Palaro isn’t the head, then just what is his function with S.M.U.T.?”
“He’s a scientist, a bio-chemist. From what I can gather, he’s got something to do with this Maltese goat milk business.”
“Yes, that would explain his function,” Mavis said. “He must be the one who refined the germ culture for Malta Fever.”
“What do you mean? Refined it how? Tell me, Mavis. I’m so sick of not knowing anything. Hanson just clams up if I ask questions.”