If America fortifies these Pacific islands, the empire would no longer be isolated, and the autocracies would be compelled to fight a defensive as well as an offensive war, which they would inevitably lose.
Consequently, I want to direct a powerful opposition against Pacific island fortification. I have made certain that the movement for creating these bases is strong enough not to give up without a battle; on the other hand you must not arouse enough opposition to defeat the motion entirely. Our purpose is to draw out the struggle indefinitely, to hold up fortification and the production of munitions, thus diverting armaments from the democracies, while giving them the false hope that they are going to be supplied very shortly, and keeping the dictatorships aware of the threat of Pacific fortification, which at any moment might become an actuality.
If you feel uncertain about the method of undertaking this task, call me on the overseas telephone, at the bank's number that you will find on the letterhead. In the event of my being elsewhere at the moment, the bank will arrange a telephone connection between us. I should prefer, however, that you solve the problem yourself, as a concrete example of ruling.
Go ahead, Hale, he thought bitterly, go on and rule. You're Lucifer's partner; you have all the power. What if you do bungle? How much worse can you wreck anybody's life than you have your and Gloria's. That was all he could think of. She was huddled in her chair, sobbing dismally. Why was he making her unhappy? It wasn't her fault. It was his own idiotically romantic haste to win her, his thoughtless, ignorant way of casting an irrevocable spell. He couldn't pass the guilt to her, as he had tried like a coward to do.
Her repressed sobbing grew to an accusing wail. "I know what it is! You don't love me nay more, Billie-willie!"
"Darling," he whispered humbly, "I didn't mean it. My nerves got the better of me. It won't happen again, because I really do love you —" And so forth. It was as true as it was false. He loved her as much as he hated always having to be with her. At least, he was pleasantly surprised to observe, he had restrained his twinge of revulsion at the use of his nickname.
Chapter XVII
Banner shook his head. "I don't understand what you're driving at, son. Either you've got a terrific grudge against the government, or you're getting kind of hysterical, the way you've been acting up. That's why I came up here to your place."
Hale looked at his cigarette and said nothing. To an outsider he must have seemed rather jittery, making impassioned speeches at all the businessmen's associations that he could get entrance to, haranguing them to get together in opposing fortifications and rearmament, to send telegrams to Washington, to demand action from newspapers.
"Tell me what it is, Bill," Banner pleaded, his voice paternally troubled. "None of us like the idea of spending billions on arms, but you don't see us acting like nuts."
"Daddy!" Gloria protested.
"Well, maybe that is putting it a little strongly. But you haven't been acting like a normal human being. This rearmament business can't mean all that to you." he hesitated; then, craftily: "Unless you've got some deal up your sleeve and won't tell your father-in-law."
"I just don't like it," muttered Hale evasively.
"Oh, cut it out! I'm not a kid. You don't just not like a thing and spend all your time making speeches against it to anyone who'll listen. What's your angle? If you don't want to tell me, say so." He added unconvincingly, "I don't mind."
When he saw that no explanation was coming, Banner turned to Gloria. "Mind getting my pipe and pouch? They're in my topcoat."
Hale and Gloria both started and went pale. She glanced appealingly at him as she half rose uncertainly out of her chair.
"I'll go with you, Gloria!" Hale cried, unconsciously loud. "I left something in my coat pocket, too."
The color came back to her face. They left the room together. The longer they were married, it seemed to Hale, the more confining the spell became. Neither spoke until they returned. Banner complained: "I don't know what's got into you, Bill. Gloria could have brought whatever you left in your coat. Don't you two see enough of each other all day?"
Gloria collapsed into a chair, and Hale clenched his jaws to keep from shouting.
Hale lay awake, staring at the shaded bulb and hating himself. The faint light didn't disturb him; on the contrary, it gave him a sense of security. Had either of them awakened and found it too dark to see the other, there would have been a small panic until the light could be clicked on.
If he could only make a break — run away, kill himself or her, anything! But that, of course, was impossible. Being away from her was worse than death; and anyhow they were immortal.
Immortal! Lord, no, he prayed, let it not be that; not living in hopeless, dismal proximity forever and ever, until the end of time!
His cruelty to her was cowardice; he lacked the courage to assume responsibility for his own incompetence. From then on, he swore, he would be gentle and considerate with her, to ease the suffering he had caused her.
But he knew he wouldn't because he couldn't. As long as he allowed himself to brood and writhe, it was natural that he should ignore her presence when he could, lash out at her when he was irritated, and perhaps even strike her. He would torture himself by tormenting her, but he would make her suffer more, so that he would feel better by contrast.
He cursed himself for thinking such thoughts. But when he crushed that obsession back into his subconsciousness, another rose to torment him. What was the point in being Lucifer's partner, if he couldn't learn to use his power? He was faced with a problem that, he knew, Johnson considered pitifully simple. Oppose Pacific island fortification.
Yeah? How. Go ahead and oppose. He had tried as hard as he could, and was getting nowhere, because he didn't know how to use Johnson's methods of moving the right pawn and waiting with perfect and justified confidence for the results. Of course, he could buy up all the newspapers in the country. That ought to work.
But there was Johnson's fat face grinning sardonically at him. "I wouldn't have to spend a cent," he taunted. "I'd just make a telephone call. See? Not even two calls."
"Damn you!" Hale's mind screamed. "I'm not licked yet, you soft white devil! I'll find a way!"
"Yeah?" Johnson smirked. "How?"
"I'll make a telephone call."
One telephone call — but to whom? Hale didn't know. He had proved himself a failure. He couldn't make a simple telephone call.
Chapter XVIII
Gloria sat in her easy-chair knitting. You may think that knitting needles are silent. Hale found they weren't. They have a metallic click, shrill enough to make itself heard over every other sound. That is bad enough, but occasionally they halt while the knitterpicks up a dropped stitch, and you grit your teeth and wait for the deadly click, click, click to resume.
Hale knew he was getting neurotic. He detested himself for his weakness, but saw no way of correcting it. Who, in his predicament, wouldn't feel helpless and incompetent? From behind that desk, Johnson had been able to draw in all the complex threads of greed, hope, ambition and fear, and by pulling the correct thread to rule the world.
Out in the loft were the baffling index cabinets, waiting passively to give up their universal knowledge. But Hale cringed at the thought of approaching them. All around the private office were tall, gloomy bookshelves filled with volumes on law, medicine, science, government, economics, statistics; revolutionary, counter-revolutionary, and status-quo propaganda; lists of pressure groups, with their methods and aims and weaknesses; encyclopedias, year-books — everything was there for him — everything that is, but skill and understanding.