"No,no,"the President's wife continued brightly, one hand on Borodin's elbow while the other hand gestured to her audience. "It's really quite possible, don't you see? There's many of them and only a few of us—but if they're in the plaza, well, we just hold the entrances."
She stroked Borodin's arm and waved, palm up, to Tyl and Desoix. Her smile seemed to double the width of her face. "You brave lads can do that, can't you? Just the three stairs, and you'll have the Executive Guard to help you. The Bishop won't make any trouble about coming to the Palace alone to discuss matters if the choice is . . . ."
Eunice paused delicately. This wasn't the woman who moments before had been ready—had been ready—to burn herself alive with the Palace."And this way, all the trouble ends and no one more gets hurt, all the rioting and troubles . . . ."
"No," said Major Borodin. His eyes were bulging and he didn't appear to be seeing any of his present surroundings. His mental notes had been hopelessly disarrayed by this—
"Yes, yes, of course!" President Delcorio said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation."We'll see how much Trimer blusters when he's asked to come and there's a gun at his head to see that he does!"
Tyl had pointed enough guns to know that they weren't the kind of magic wand Delcorio seemed to be expecting. He looked at Desoix, certain of agreement and hopeful that the UDB officer would be able to express the plan's absurdity in a more tactful fashion than Tyl could.
Desoix had lifted Anne McGill to her feet. His hand was on the woman's waist, but she wasn't paying any conscious attention to him. Instead, her eyes were on Eunice Delcorio.
"No," muttered Borodin. "No, no! We've got to withdraw at once."
Maybe it was the rote dismissal by the battery commander that made Tyl really start thinking, Colonel Hammer wanted Delcorio kept in power for another week—and no deal Trimer cut with the present government was likely to last longer than that, but a week . . .?
Two hundred men and a pair of calliopes—blazes, maybe it would work!
"Of course," Tyl said aloud, "Marshal Dowell's on the other side, sure as can be, so the Guard downstairs . . .?"
"Dowell isn't the Executive Guard,"said the President dismissively. "He's nothing but a jumped-up shopkeeper. I was a fool to think he'd be loyal because he owed everything to me."
Like City Prefect Berne, Tyl thought. He kept his mouth shut.
"But the Guard, they're the best people in the State," Delcorio continued with enthusiasm. "They won't give in to trash and gutter sweepings now that we've found a way to deal with them."
"Lieutenant," said the battery commander, "I'll oversee the loading. Give the withdrawal orders as soon as you've determined the safest routes."
He pivoted on his left heel, rotating his elbow from Eunice's seductive touch. He stamped out of the room.
"Yes sir," Desoix said crisply, but he made no immediate motion to follow his superior.
"Well," said Tyl, feeling the relief that returned with resignation—it'd been a crazy notion, but just for a minute he'd thought . . . "Well, I better tell—"
"Wait!" Anne McGill said. She stepped toward her mistress, but she was no longer ignoring Charles Desoix. Halfway between the two she spun toward her lover and set a jewel-ringed hand at the scooped collar of the dress she wore beneath her cloak. She pulled fiercely.
The hem of lustrous synthetic held. White and red creases sprang out where the straps crossed her shoulders.
"Anne?" the President's wife called from behind her companion.
Anne wailed, "Mary,Queen of Heaven!" and tugged again, pulling the left strap down to her elbow instead of trying again to tear the fabric. Her breast, firm but far too heavy not to sag, flopped over the bodice which had restrained it.
"Is this what you want to give to them?" she cried. Her eyes were blind, even before she shut them in a vain attempt to hold back the tears."Give the, the mob? I won't go! I won't leave Eunice even if you are all cowards? "
"Anne," Desoix pleaded. "President Delcorio—the front row in the cathedral was the best people in the State. Some of them were here with you this morning. Colonel Drescher isn't going to—"
"How do you know until you ask him?" Eunice demanded in a voice like a rapier. Her arm was around Anne McGill now, drawing the dark cloak over the naked breast. Tyl couldn't say whether the gesture was motherly or simply proprietary.
This hasn't got anything t' do with . . . his surface mind started to tell him; but deeper down, he knew it did. Like as not it always did, one way or another; who was screwing who and how everybody felt about it.
"All right!" Desoix shouted. "We'll go ask him!"
"I'll go myself," said President Delcorio, sucking in his belly and adding a centimeter to his height by straightening up.
"That's not safe, Uncle John," said Pedro Delcorio unexpectedly. "I'll go with the men."
"Well . . ." Tyl said as the President's nephew gestured him toward the elevator. Desoix, his face set in furious determination, was already inside.
It was going to be cramped with three of them. "Via, why not?" Tyl said. It was easier to go along than to refuse to, right now. Nothing would come of it. He'd seen too many parade-ground units to expect this one to find guts all of a sudden.
But if just maybe it did work . . .Via,nobody liked to run with their tail between their legs, did they?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Koopman's idiotic grin was just one more irritation to Charles Desoix as the elevator dropped.
"Bit of a chance you're taking, isn't it?" the Slammers officer asked. "Going against your major's orders and all?"
Desoix felt himself become calm and was glad of it.None of this made any sense. If Tyl decided to laugh—well, that was a saner response than Desoix's own.
"Only if something comes of it,"he said,wishing that he didn't sound so tired. Wrung out.
He was wrung out. "And if I'm alive afterward, of course."
Pedro's eyes were darting between the mercenaries. His bulky body—soft but not flabby—would have given him presence under some circumstances. In these tight quarters he was overwhelmed by the men in armor—and by the way they considered the future in the light of similar pasts.
The car settled so gently that only the door opening announced the rotunda. Desoix swung out to the left side, noticing that identical reflex had moved Koopman to the right—as if they were about to clear a defended position.
Half a dozen powerguns were leveled at the opening door,though the Slammers here on guard jerked their muzzles away when they saw who had arrived.
The rotunda was empty except for Hammer's men.
"Where's the guards?" Koopman demanded in amazement.