“Like Christ,” Barnes said. He felt depressed; he had begun to brood. “Kill Christ and you get the New Testament. Kill Ché Guevara and you get a diary that’s a book of instructions on how to gain power all over the world. Kill Cordon—”
A buzzer on Barnes” desk buzzed.
“Yes, Council Chairman,” Barnes said into the intercom. “I have occifer Noyes with me.” He nodded to her and she rose from the leather-covered chair facing his desk. “We’ll come in.” He motioned to her, feeling at the same time a stiff dislike of her.
He did not like policewomen in general, and especially those who liked to wear the uniform. A woman, he had mused long ago, should not be in uniform. The female informers did not bother him, because in no way were they required to surrender their femininity. Police occifer Noyes was sexless—in actual, physiological fact She had undergone Snyder’s operation, so that both legally and physically speaking, she was not a woman; she had no sex organs as such, no breasts; her hips were as narrow as a man’s, and her face was fathomless and cruel.
“Just think,” Barnes said to her as they walked down the corridor—past the double rows of weapons-police guards—and came to Willis Gram’s massive, ornate oak door, “how good you’d feel if you had after all managed to get something on Irma Gram. Too bad.” He nudged her as the door opened and they entered Gram’s bedroom office. In his huge bed, Gram lay, buried in piles of sections of the Times, an expression of cunning on his face.
“Council Chairman,” Barnes said, “this is Alice Noyes, the special occifer who has been in charge of obtaining material relating to the moral habits of your wife.”
“I’ve met you before,” Gram said to her.
“Correct, Council Chairman,” Alice Noyes said, nodding.
Gram said calmly, “I want my wife murdered, by Eric Cordon, on live world-wide TV.”
Barnes stared at him. Peacefully, Gram stared back, the look of animal cunning still on his face.
After a pause Alice Noyes said, “It would, of course, be easy to snuff her. A fatal squib accident during a shopping tour to Europe or Asia, she makes them all the time. But by Eric Cordon—”
“That’s the inventive part,” Gram said.
After a pause, Alice Noyes said, “Respectfully, Council Chairman, are we supposed to work out the project or do you have ideas as to how we should or could proceed? The more you tell us, the better our position, operationally, would be, all the way down to the working level.”
Gram eyed her. “By all that, do you mean do I know how to do it?”
“I’m puzzled, too,” Director Barnes said, at this point. “I am trying, first of all, to imagine the effect this would have on the average citizen, if Cordon did a thing of this sort.”
“They’d know that all the love and gift-giving and mutual help and empathy and cooperation among Old Men, New Men and Unusuals—they’d know it was so much bombastic bilge. And I’d be rid of Irma. Don’t forget that part, Director; don’t forget that part.”
“I’m not forgetting that part,” Barnes said, “but I still don’t see how it can be done.”
“At Cordon’s execution,” Gram said, “all top officials of the government will be present, including wives—my wife. Cordon will be brought out by a dozen or so armed police guards. The TV cameras will be getting it all; don’t forget that. Then all of a sudden, by just one of those flukes that happens, Cordon grabs a hand weapon from an occifer, aims it at me, but misses me and snuffs Irma, who will of course be sitting beside me.”
“Jesus God,” Director Barnes said heavily; he felt enormous weight gather over him, bowing him down. “Are we supposed to alter Cordon’s brain so he’s compelled to do it? Or do we just ask him to, if he’d mind—”
“Cordon will already be snuffed,” Gram said. “The day before at the latest.”
“Then how—”
Gram said, “His brain will be replaced by a synthetic neuro-control turret which will direct him to do what we want him—or it, rather—to do. That’s easy enough. We’ll get Amos Ild to install it.”
“The New Man who’s building the Great Ear?” Barnes asked. “You intend to ask him to help you do this?”
“It’s like this,” Gram said. “If he doesn’t, I’ll cut off all funds for the development of the Great Ear. And we’ll get some other New Man capable of scooping out Cordon’s brain—” He halted—Alice Noyes had shuddered. “Sorry. Remove his brain, then, if you prefer it put that way. In any case, it’s the same thing. What do you say, Barnes? Isn’t this brilliant?” He paused. There was silence. “Answer me.”
“It would help,” Barnes said carefully, “to discredit the Under Man movement. But the risk is too great. The risk outweighs the possible gain; you have to look at it that way . . . with all due respects.”
“What risk?”
“First of all, you’ll have to bring a top-level New Man into this, which makes you dependent on them, which you absolutely don’t want to be. And those laboratory synthetic brains they’re making in their research centers—they’re not dependable. It might go berk and shoot everyone, including you. I wouldn’t want to be out there when that thing emerges with a gun and starts through its programming; I want to be a million miles away, for the sake of my own hide.”
“You don’t like the idea, then,” Gram said.
“My statement could be so construed,” Barnes said, pulsing inside with indignation. Which Gram, of course, picked up.
“What do you think, Noyes?” Gram asked the police-woman.
“I think,” Noyes said, “that it’s the most fantastically brilliant plan I’ve ever encountered.”
“See?” Gram said to Barnes.
Curious, Barnes said to her, “When did you arrive at that conclusion? A moment ago when the Council Chairman talked about—”
“It was merely his choice of words, that to-do with scooping,” Noyes said. “But now I see it in perspective.”
“It’s the finest idea that has ever come to me in all the years I’ve spent in the Civil Service and this top office,” Gram said proudly.
“Maybe so,” Barnes said wearily. “Maybe it is.” Which, he thought, is a commentary on you.
Picking up Barnes” thoughts, Gram scowled.
“Just a fleeting, dubious thought,” Barnes said. “A doubt which I’m sure will presently be gone.” He had momentarily forgotten about Gram’s telepathic ability. But even if he had remembered, he nonetheless would have thought the thought.
“True,” Gram said, nodding as he picked up this, too. “Do you want to resign, Barnes?” he asked. “And disassociate yourself from this?”
“No sir,” Barnes said respectfully.
“All right.” Gram nodded. “Get hold of Amos Ild as soon as possible, make sure he understands that it’s a state secret, and ask him to get started on an artificial analogue to Cordon’s brain. Get the encephalograms cranking out, or however it is they go about it.”
“Encephalograms,” Barnes said, nodding in agreement. “A massive, intensive study of Cordon’s mind—brain, whichever.”
Gram said, “You’ve got to remember the image Irma has vis-à-vis the public. We know what she’s really like, but they think of her as a kindly, generous, philanthropic do-gooder who sponsors charities and generally beautifying public works, such as floating gardens in the sky. But we know—”
“So,” Barnes interrupted, “the public will think that Cordon has murdered a harmless, loving person. A terrible crime, even in the eyes of Under Men. Everyone will be glad when Cordon is ‘killed’ immediately after his vicious, senseless act. That is, if Ild’s brain is good enough to fool the Unusuals, the telepaths.” In his mind he could imagine the synthetic brain sending Cordon ricocheting about the hanging arena, mowing people down by the hundreds.