And frightened, helpless, desperate eyes turning, continually turning to Washington and New York to do something, do something . . . anything.
Carl Englehardt’s report was there, a thick bundle of papers that would take four hours of careful perusal, but a quick scan was enough to see that Englehardt had known what he was talking about. He knew he had to see Cad quickly, at least talk to Carl, and then get the Joint Chiefs together again, though with the DEPCO thing hanging over his head . . . Damn DEPCO! It was already almost 10:00. He would have to move with great caution, but just as urgently he knew he would have to move fast, faster than DEPCO would ever allow him to move.
He told his girl to get Libby at her office, and sent out a tracer to locate Englehardt, possibly for an appointment at lunch. Thank God there was one man left who did not quibble and whine and make excuses—one man he could trust to move and to get things done . . . .
After the call to Libby he cursed, canceled two appointments and called his car. Down on the street he was stepping forward to the open door of the big Hydro when a plush black Volta spun into the curb. “Julian! Julian Bahr!”
Providentially, it was Englehardt. “Let me drive you somewhere, Julian. You’ve seen my report?”
Bahr nodded, but hesitated as the two men walking with him caught up.
“You won’t need them,” Englehardt said smiling.
“No, I guess not. Okay, boys, see you at the DEPCO building.” He got into the Volta. “They’ll follow us like wolves,” he said as the DIA men got into the official car and moved out behind the Volta. Bahr looked at Englehardt. The man looked more tired, yet miraculously younger than three days before.
“Why all the precautions?” he asked Bahr. “Is that customary?”
“I was assassinated last night,” Bahr said.
“You hardly look it. You got the assassin, I presume.”
“No, no leads at all yet.” He didn’t care to advertise rot in his own back yard. “But something will turn up shortly.”
“And the aliens?”
“Nothing. A couple more missing men are back, all with the same story. Things are just too damned quiet, I don’t like it.”
“You’ve got my report now, you know what I can do,”
Englehardt said. “If something stalls now, it could be very costly. It could end everything, in fact.”
Bahr rubbed his forehead, beat his fist against his palm with a loud flat sound. “I’m doing all I can to push it through.”
“Is that enough?” Englehardt asked. “You know I’ll back you all the way—money, technicians, influence—but it’s got to move, or we’re lost.”
“I’m having trouble with DEPCO,” Bahr said. “They want to pull me off the job until they’re satisfied that I’m dull, normal and inert. By DEPCO I mean Adams.”
“You never impressed me as the sort that Adams would be likely to stop,” Englehardt said.
Bahr’s jaw clenched savagely and his fist smashed against his palm. “Adams won’t stop me,” he said. “Not if I have to break his back with my bare hands. As long as I still have friends I can count on.”
Englehardt laughed. “I could tell you something.”
“What?”
“A man as ambitious as you are really has no friends, only victims. If I were you I wouldn’t count on anybody helping me for one minute after I lost complete control. In fact, if I were you, I might worry about my life, if I had no more DIA to protect it.”
It was Bahr’s turn to laugh. “Killing is my game,” he said, “and I always win.”
“Well, I think this is where you’re going,” Englehardt said as the Volta slowed in front of the DEPCO building. “I will see you this afternoon, Julian?”
“You’ll see me,” Bahr said, and walked into the building.
Bahr was smiling when he came into the office. He smiled at Libby, he smiled at Adams, he smiled at the technicians, and Libby thought he was drunk.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Shall we get started?”
Adams rose slowly. “This is a routine examination, Mr. Bahr. You realize that. There’s nothing personal in it, but when an individual moves into a job as important as yours, there are just a few precautions that have to be taken for the public good.”
“Fine, that’s all clear,” Bahr said amicably.
“All we want to do is ask you a few questions, and ask you to give us frank honest answers. Now.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll call my office and give them this extension,” Bahr said, “in case I have to be reached.”
“This is an unlisted number,” Adams said. “We can’t have any interruptions during the test.” But Bahr was already at the phone, dialing quickly, still smiling, nodding. He gave the extension number and hung up.
“I left orders not to be interrupted until I called back,” he said. “So we won’t have to worry about that.”
“All right.” Adams frowned. “These questions are just to help us make a few simple evaluations on your personality, Mr. Bahr. I think it would be best to let the machine warm up, and let you get adjusted to it. Are you familiar with the polygraph?”
“Who isn’t?” Bahr sat sprawled in the surro-leather chair, let Adams fasten the apparatus with his thin bony fingers, although he would rather have had Libby do it. And then he waited through the usual pointless recounting of what they were going to do, until they thought he was ripe. He watched Libby maneuver into a position where she could watch the polygraph and still see him to cue in his suggested reactions. Bahr could feel his palms begin to sweat a little. Why didn’t she throw out the first cue? Christ! She hadn’t already sold him down the river?
She rubbed her right ear, which was the first trigger, and Bahr could feel the automatic cue-word come into his mind as Adams began the questioning.
It was simple at first, so ridiculously simple that he wondered why he had feared it so long, but then the questions, the questions, the questions began to blur and he grew tired, felt the weariness creeping up, and the boredom. It was the boredom that worried him. He’d made three complete runs so far, and obviously Adams wasn’t getting what he wanted because he was already talking about still another repeat, and Libby, in her carefully inhibited way, was looking too pleased for things to be going too badly, even though Adams was scratching far afield of the normal questions looking for reactions to snap onto.
Then the hooker came.
“I’ve done my best,” Adams said, shaking his head, “and I guess there just isn’t any sense to making another run after three confirmations.” He began to loosen the pressure belts, and Bahr gradually tensed, knowing something was coming.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Bahr,” Adams said sadly. “I really am, and I’d do anything I could to keep from having to do this. Unfortunately, it’s just one of those things that has to be looked out for in a job like yours. Otherwise, we’d wind up with people who are dangerously unstable, dangerous to us, and dangerous to themselves.” He smiled unhappily. “Of course sometimes it’s just a matter of situation, nothing really serious wrong with the individual’s personality, but under emergency situations some people just naturally shift into an authoritarian mold. Sometimes pressure forces people into adopting a personality structure that is . . . well . . . dangerous to the society and themselves, and in fact they should be grateful, we should all be grateful that we can detect this sort of thing in time to . . . .”