“Minimally…a few days.” Itavvy shuffled the papers spread across his desk, an action which gave him excuse to look elsewhere. “All channels could be turned to the same tapestudy—easier than doing it otherwise. But the legalities—the questions that would be raised on this world—they’d have to be moved, shipped, and ISPAK—”
“You know, ser Itavvy, that your loyalty is to ITAK. But ITAK is a Kontrin creation. You are aware then of a-higher morality. If I were to give you a certain—favour, if I were to ask your silence in return for that, and certain further co-operations, you would realise that this was not disloyalty to ITAK, but loyalty to the source of ITAK’s very license to function.”
The beta wiped at his face and nodded, the papers forgotten, his eyes fever-bright. He looked at her now. There was no possibility of divided attention.
“I’m creating an establishment,” she said very softly, “a permanent Kontrin presence, do you see? And such an establishment needs personnel. When this process is complete, when the training is accomplished as I wish, then I shall still need reliable personnel at other levels.”
“Yes, sera,” he breathed.
“The great estates, you see, these powers with their massed forces of azi—this thing which you so earnestly insist has no organisation—could be handled without bloodshed, by superior force. Peace would come to Istra. You see what a cause you serve. A solution, a solution, ser, which would well serve ITAK. You realise that I have power to license, being in fact the total Kontrin presence: I can authorise export on the levels you need. I’m prepared to do so, to rescue this whole operation, if I receive the necessary co-operation from certain key individuals.”
The man was trembling, visibly. He could not control his hands. “I am not, then, to contact my superiors.”
She shook her head slowly. “Not if you plan to enjoy your life, ser. I am extremely cautious about security.”
“You have my utmost co-operation.”
She smiled bleakly, having found again the measure of betas. “Indeed, ser, thank you. Now, there’s an old farm on B-branch, just outside the city, registered to a new owner, one ser Isan Tel. You’ll manage to find some azi of managerial function, the best: its housecomp has instructions for them. Can you find such azi?”
Itavvy nodded.
“Excellent. All you can spare of them, and all of the guard-azi but two hundred males that I want transferred to my own estate…go to the establishment of Isan Tel. Provisioned and equipped. Can you do it?”
“We—can, yes.”
She shook her head. “No plural. You. Youwill tend every detail personally. The rumour, if it escapes, will tell me precisely who let it escape; and if there is fault in the training—I need not say how I would react to that, ser. You would be quite, quite dead. On the other hand, you can become a very wealthy man…wealthy and secure. In addition to the other contracts, I want half a dozen domestics to my address; and ser Tel’s estate will need a good thirty to care for the guard-azi. Possible?”
Itavvy nodded.
“Ser Itavvy, after today, an identity will be established, one ser Merek Sed. He will be a very wealthy man, with properties on several worlds, with trade license, and an account in intercomp, a number I shall give you. You will be that individual. He will be a creator. of art. I shall purchase art for the decoration of my house…and so will ser Isan Tel. Be discreet at first, ser Itavvy. Too ostentatious a display of your new wealth would raise fatal questions. But if you are clever—Merek Sed can retire in great comfort. You have family, ser Itavvy?”
He nodded again, breathing with difficulty. “Wife. A daughter.”
“They also can be built into Merek Sed’s identity. Untraceable. Only you and I know how he was born. Once off Istra, utterly safe. I will put your wife and daughter into those records too, and give you their new citizen numbers…at a price.”
“What—price?”
“Loyalty. To me. Discretion. Absolute.” She tore off a sheet from a notepad and picked up a pen, wrote three numbers. “The first is a number by which you can contact me. Do so tomorrow. The second is the citizen number of ser Merek Sed. The third is an account number which will provide you an earnest of things to come. Use only cash-machines, no credit purchases…don’t patronise the same store repeatedly. Create no patterns and don’t let others know how much your fortunes have improved. Recall that if you’re suspected, the consequences to me are mere annoyance; to you…rather more serious. For your family also. I can defend myself from my annoyances. But I fear that they would devour others, ser Itavvy.” She held up the paper.
He took it.
“The delivery,” she said, “of the guards for my house…today?”
“Yes.”
“And all equipage with them?”
“Yes. That can be arranged. We have warehouse access.”
“And the transfer of the azi to the Tel estate?”
“Will begin today, sera. I could suggest an abbreviated training, if only the use of arms is required, and not specialised security—”
“Hastening the program?”
“Hastening it by half, Kontrin.”
“Acceptable.”
“If the authorisations to clear the papers on the others could be given—”
“Not from this terminal, ser, but if you’ll check after your delivery to my house, number 47A, if you’ll kindly make a note of that, you may find that certain problems have vanished. And the Tel estate access is South Road 3. You have all that?”
“Yes, sera.”
She smiled. “Thank you, ser Itavvy. Payment will clear at delivery. And a further matter: should you ever notice on your housecomp a call from ser Tel in person…check the Sed account at once. There’ll be passage for Sed and family, to ISPAK and elsewhere. It would be wise at that point to use it. I do take care of my agents, ser, if it’s ever necessary.”
“Sera,” he breathed.
“We’re agreed, then.” She rose, offered her chitin-sheathed hand with deliberation, knowing how betas hated contact with it. Itavvy took it with gingerly pleasure, rising.
“Jim,” she said softly then, drew him with her, out of the office.
And in the foyer she looked back. Itavvy had not come out of his office…would not perhaps, for a small space. She took Jim’s arm. “All right?” she asked.
Jim nodded. Upset, she thought, how not? But he shored no signs of worse disturbance. She pressed his arm, let it go, led the way to the door.
The car still waited. She looked right and left, walked out into the heat. The filtered light coming down the huge well to the pavement was not screened enough: the ventilation was insufficient. When they reached the car, Merry opened the door with a look of vast relief and started the air-conditioning at once. He was drenched with sweat, his blond hair plastered about his face.
“Everything all right?” she asked, letting Jim in.
“At the house…quiet. No trouble.”
Raen closed the door, looked back yet again at Jim. He looked none the worse for the experience, even here, where he might have given way in private. He seemed quite composed, quite—she thought with disturbance—as composed as the faces which had looked up at them from the cells, silent, incapable of tears.
“Centre,” she directed Merry, settling forward in her seat again and folding her arms about her. “We’re going to pay another call. ITAK’s due one.”
vii
It was very like the Labour Registry, the circle which was the heart of ITAK: it was only wider, taller, and perhaps deeper underground.
The Centre drew a great deal of traffic, cars prowling the circle-drive…probably every car in East, every car on the continent resorted here regularly, in a city where everyone but the higher ITAK officials must rely on public transport. A space was available in front of the main doors, probably vacant because it was restricted; Raen directed and Merry eased into it, parked, let them out and locked the doors.