And, evidently, the time had come.
Blayney turned to Gosseyn. “Do you want me to have Dr. Kair brought over to you?”
With so many observers present, Gosseyn made his reply formaclass="underline" “No, Mr. President. I’m sure I should go over to his office. That, if anywhere, is where the earlier brain photographs will be, and the equipment to deal with the situation.”
“Very good. But don’t waste any time.”
“I understand, sir. We don’t want any more incidents, or three day absences.”
“Exactly right.”
As moments later, he watched the beautiful machines drive off, what bothered Gosseyn was: it seemed too easy.
All those violent people out there were being held motionless, so to say, by some equivalent of a psychological trap they were in. There was Enro, the only human being left aboard the Troog warship because, if he were free, he could launch his huge fleet against anyone.
So there he was, apparently a prisoner, but actually in touch with his admiral who—if the prisoner were harmed—would know it instantly. It was presumed that, in such an eventuality, the great space fleet would at once attack and destroy the alien vessel.
Therefore, the Troogs, out-numbered thousands to one, would—so it was believed—restrain themselves from doing anything harmful; in fact, that was the agreement.
Here on earth, the outward appearance was that he and the others had the support of President Blayney and all his forces. It was hard to credit that the Big Business people, who were opposed to the rebuilding of the Institute and the Games Machine, would act in some violent fashion during the next two hours.
“… So I can go and see Dr. Kair—”
That was what Yona had agreed to; and, since no Troog had objected sufficiently to try a self-appointment leadership gambit, evidently all the way down the chain of Troog command there was silent acceptant agreement that something had to be done.
And, of course, here on earth was Breemeg and the trio of scientists from the Dzan battleship, each thinking their private thoughts; but having to bide their time.
As Crang and he walked back toward the apartment, Gosseyn told the Venusian detective the words he had overheard the caretaker speak on the phone to someone in Gorrold’s office.
He concluded unhappily, “My first thought is, it looks as if, when Gorrold thought it over—as he said he would do—he finally decided to get involved again.”
CHAPTER 29
All those minutes, while walking along the corridor, Gosseyn had been aware of his alter ego… off there, in the remoteness of space, aboard the Dzan battleship. And, because of what was happening, he now addressed the other Gosseyn:
“So far I haven’t killed anybody.”
“Lucky you!” came the reply. “You didn’t have to fight off Enro’s attack on Venus.”
Thus reminded of Enro, Gosseyn Three commented: “He’s up there, now, on the Troog battleship.”
The reply had in it a satirical overtone: “I have a feeling that when Enro was telling you about his understanding of General Semantics, about taking all possibilities into account, he believed he knew how to do that better than anyone. But—” smile impression—“I’m deducing he forgot about your ability.” A mental shrug; then: “I say, good riddance.” The faraway communication concluded: “Remember, as things stand, the emperor’s mother is all yours—no competition now.”
“It’s interesting,” said Gosseyn Three, “that he never said a word when he discovered he was to be the hostage.”
The reply was the equivalent of a mental shrug: “I couldn’t care less.” He added, “And while I’m still here on the ship I’ll see if I can get hold of those visual materials Enro gave to your future bride.”
That was obviously a good purpose. The material should very definitely be examined. But Gosseyn Three was remembering something else.
“I doubt,” he said “if we can dispose of Enro in any casual fashion.” He added, “Remember, you and the others used his ESP ability when you attempted the big jump. We’ll need him again for that.”
“We can worry about that later,” was the reply. “As I see it, it’s to Enro’s advantage to participate. We can trust him to continue his scheming.”
Gosseyn Three, who had paused to take his extrabrain photograph of the electrical outlet, and then walked hastily forward to rejoin Crang, spoke mentally again to Gosseyn Two: “Are you sure that kind of dismissal is wise? He’s the get-even type, and I see him just biding his time until he can hit somebody. We need to figure out a way to mollify him.”
He sensed a grim smile from the other Gosseyn. The message was: “Tell Eldred to watch out when Enro is finally let go. I’m sure Enro is still scheming to marry, in the Gorgzid royal tradition, the sister whom we knew as Patricia Hardie, and who is now Mrs. Crang.”
It was Gosseyn Three’s turn to smile. “That analysis implies that you’re hopeful that things will work out here. You think I can do what everybody’s counting on.”
The reply was straightforward: “We’re all trusting that the solution is buried somewhere in the damaged nerve ends in your extra-brain. We hope Dr. Kair can use the pictures he has of my brain to fix up yours. Or, at least, that he will be able to tell you the exact problem. The aftermath we’ll face when we come to it.”
At that point in his silent interchange with Gosseyn
Two, there was an interruption. Beside him, Crang said, “The fellow just saw us, and he stepped back out of sight.”
Gosseyn sighed. “Too bad. So now it looks like a crisis coming, and that he is somebody’s hireling.” Crang said grimly, “And, for good measure, a man, a woman, and a boy have just come out of the building two doors beyond the two-storey building, and they’re coming this way.”
Gosseyn made no additional comment, nor did he glance in the direction indicated. His attention was on the roof of the two-storey structure, where the man was now crouching behind the small abutment that overlooked the street; whoever he was, he was peering over, and down.
Since he was keeping his head visible, he was evidently assuming that no one would be suspicious of his motive for being there; and, of course, since it was still possible that his suspicious actions did not really portend anything, nothing could be done against him until he made a significant move.
Beside Gosseyn, Crang said, “You may be interested to know that the name of the restaurant is the owner’s idea of what General Semantics is all about: plain talk; telling it like it is.”
It was one of those comments that men make to each other in moments of stress. So it was no problem to stay alert, and simultaneously reply. “Eating House?” Gosseyn spoke the name with a faint smile, but did not for an instant cease watching the man on the roof.
“Here he was,” continued Crang’s voice from beside him, “with the only restaurant near the famous Institute of General Semantics, a subject having to do with the meaning of meaning; and so he evidently thought about it, and came up with another over-simplification.” They had crossed the park by the time those words were uttered, and were coming to a store with the sign: BUY YOUR SEMANTICS MEMENTOS HERE.
Further along that street, Enin had seen them; for he waved. Gosseyn said, “In terms of to-me-ness, I thought the food there was good.”
On the roof, the man’s hand came into view. The hand was holding a round, metal object. He raised the ball-like thing above his head.
Gosseyn took his extra-brain mental photograph of the metal object; and as he did so, was thinking: “He’s planning to throw it as we all come near each other.” And still he could not take any counter-measure until the act of throwing took place.