"You've been to see Uncle Simon, then? Is he planning to use the information against me in the election?"
"I don't think so-no."
She was evidently nervous. Her voice was shaking slightly. Probably his own was, too. They had been very close-in love, even-and the break, when it had finally come, had been made in anger. He had not been alone with her since.
"What do you think your chances are of winning it?"
She smiled. "Good."
"Yes, they seem to be."
"Will you be pleased?"
She knew very well that he wouldn't be. Her political ambitions had been the main reason for their parting. Unlike all the rest of his family, including remote cousins, he had no interest in politics. Maybe, he thought with a return of his earlier bitterness, Simon Powys had been right about his blood being inherited from his unknown father. He shook his head, shrugging slightly, smiling vaguely.
"I-I don't know," he lied. Of course he would be disappointed if she won. He hated the political side of her character. Whereas he had nothing against women in politics-it would have been atavistic and unrealistic if he had,an objection-he felt that her talents lay elsewhere. Perhaps in the painting she no longer had time for? She had been,: potentially, a very fine painter.
"It's time the Solar System had a shake-up," she said. "The Solrefs have been in for too long."
"Probably," he said noncommittally. Then, desperate to get it over: "Why are you here, Helen?"
"I wanted some help."
"What kind of help? Personal…?"
"No, of course not. Don't worry. When you said it was over I believed you. I’ve still got the mark on my shoulder."
This had been on his conscience and her reference to it hurt him. He had struck her on her shoulder, not really intending the blow to be hard, but it had been.
"I'm sorry about that…" he said stumblingly. "I didn't mean…";
"I know. I shouldn't have brought it up." She smiled and; said quickly:
"Actually, I want some information, Alan. I; know that you're politically uncommitted, so I'm sure you won't mind giving it to me.".;
"But I don't have any secrets, Helen. I'm not in that position-I'm only a civil servant, you know that."
"It's not really a secret. All I want is some-what d'you call it?-advance information."
"About what?"
"I heard a rumor that the City Council plans to close off the lower levels. Is that true?";
"I really couldn't say, Helen." News was travelling fast.: Obviously an indiscreet councilor had mentioned Simon Powys' letter to someone and this had been the start of the rumor. On the other hand, his grandfather, when he told! him of it, had understood that he would keep the old man's: confidence. He could say nothing-though the truth would put paid to the rumor.
"But you're in City Administration. You must know. You'd be responsible for the project, wouldn't you?"
"If such a project were to be carried out, yes. But I have: been told nothing either by the City Council or my Director. I should ignore the rumor. Anyway, why should it bother you?"
"Because if it's true it would be interesting to know which councilors backed the motion, and who egged them on. The only man with sufficient power and a great enough obsession is your grandfather-my uncle, Simon Powys!"
"How many Solar Referendum councilors are in the Council?" he asked vaguely. He was smelling her perfume now. He remembered it with a sad nostalgia. This was becoming too much to bear.
"There are five Solrefs, three RLMs, one independent Socialist and one Crespignite who slipped in somewhere on the pensioner's vote. Giving, if you are so ignorant of simple politics, a majority to the Solrefs and virtual control of the Council, since the Crespignite is bound to vote with them on nearly every issue."
"So you want to tell the people that this hypothetical closing down of the lower levels is a Solref plot-a blow to their liberty."
"My very words," she said with a kind of triumphant complacency.
He got up. "And you expect me to help you-to betray confidence, not to mention giving my own grandfather's opponents extra ammunition-and let you know what the City Council decides before it is made public? You're becoming foolish, Helen.
Politics must be addling your brains!"
"But it means nothing to you, anyway. You're.not interested in politics!"
"That's so. One of the reasons I’m not interested is because of the crookedness that seems to get into the best of people-people who think any means to win elections are fair! I’m not naive, Helen. I’m from the same family as you. I grew up knowing politics. That's why I stay out of it!"
"Surely you don't support this victimization of the Fire-clown, Alan? He is a simple, spontaneous…"
"I'm not interested in hearing a list of the Fireclown's virtues. And whether I support any 'victimization,' as you call it, is of no importance. As a matter of fact, I'm attracted to the Fireclown and consider him no danger at all. But it seems to me that both you and Grandfather are using this man for your own political ends, and I’ll have no part of it!" He paused, considering what he had said, then added: "Finally, there has been no 'victimization,' and there isn't likely to be!"
"That's what you think. I support the Fireclown for good reasons. His ambitions and the ambitions of the RLM are linked. He wants to bring sanity and real life back to this machine-ridden world. We want real values back again!"
"Oh, God!" He shook his head impatiently. "Helen, I've got a great deal of work to do before I go to bed tonight."
"Very well. I have, too. If you reconsider…"
"Even if there was a plot to arrest the Fireclown I wouldn't tell you so that you could use it for political fuel, Helen." He suddenly found himself moving towards her, gripping her arm. "Listen. Why get involved with this? You've got a good chance of winning the election without indulging in dealings of this sort.
Wait until you're President, then you can make the Fireclown into a Solar Trust if you like!"
"You can't understand," she said grimly, shaking herself free of his hand. "You don't realize that you have to be comparatively ruthless when you know what you're aiming for is right."
"Then I'm glad you know what's right," he said pityingly. "I'm bloody glad you know. It's more than I do."
She left in silence and he went back to his chair, slumping down heavily and feeling, with morose pleasure, that he had scored.
The mood didn't last long. By the time Stefanos came in to tell him his meal was waiting for him he had sunk into a brooding, unconstructive melancholy.
Brusquely he told his manservant to eat the meal himself and then go out for the rest of the evening.
"Thank you, sir," Stefanos said wonderingly, chewing his ridged underlip as he left the room.
In this mood in which his confrontation of his ex-mistress had left him, Alan felt incapable of work. The work was of little real importance anyway, routine stuff which he had hoped to clear up before he took his vacation in two weeks' time. He decided to go to bed, hoping that a good ten hours' sleep would help him forget Helen.
He had reached the point where he felt he must see the mysterious figure for himself, since so many matters seemed to be revolving around him all of a sudden.
He walked into the darkened hall and ordered the light on. The light responded to his voice and flooded the flat. The tiny escalator leading upstairs began to move, too, and he stepped on it, letting it carry him to the landing.
He went into his bedroom. It was as sparsely furnished as the rest of the flat-a bed, a mellowlamp for reading, a small shelf of books, a wing on the headboard of the bed for anything he cared to put there, and a concealed wardrobe. The air was fresh from the ventilators, also hidden.
He took off his scarlet jacket and pants, told the wardrobe to open, told the cleaning chute to open and dropped them in. He selected a single-piece sleeping suit and moved moodily to sit on the edge of the bed. Then he got up and went back to the wardrobe, removed an ordinary suit of street garments and put them on. Rapidly, feeling that he should have taken something (with him-a weapon or a notebook or an alarm signaller which would contact the police wherever he was-he left the flat and took the fastway towards the elevators.