The Fellowship of the Hand (6 page)

“You can’t be serious!” Jazine said. “The people would never stand for such a thing!”

“Wouldn’t they? The supporters of the super-government could be quite articulate in pointing out its advantages—a balanced budget every year, an equitable sharing of the tax burden, an end to any lingering racial discrimination, no more recessions, no more inflation. Everything would be regulated by the computers. Best of all, from their standpoint, it would insure the American way of life for all time. There would be no chance for communism or any other ism to ever gain a foothold here.”

“What about free will?”

Euler Frost edged his car back onto the main road. “It would still operate within certain narrow limits. Only the dangerous highs and lows would be eliminated from human activity. You can see how such a system would immediately benefit those of its backers who are industrialists. Take the electric auto, for instance. The computers would determine that buyers were returning to a cycle of red cars, and the manufacturers would turn out seventy percent of their cars in red. Buyers would have no choice but to conform to the prediction. Likewise hologram films and video cassettes and a million other products could be assured of maximum sales by marketing them in compliance with computer predictions.”

“And the men behind this scheme?”

“Two of them—the two most prominent—are the ones whose names you found in that election computer. Jason Blunt and Stanley Ambrose. They have organized a company called Nova Industries as a front for their activities.”

Earl Jazine nodded. “Now suppose you tell me how you know all this, and how you were on the scene to follow me tonight.”

They had entered the traffic web leading back to Sunsite, and Euler Frost set his car on automatic control. He was not above letting the computers do some work for him on occasion. “Our people—the HAND people—have been onto this group for some time. Axman had developed the first leads before he got sent to prison, and I simply followed through. With the aid of an informer I learned that the group was planning their secret election one month ahead of the real one. They felt that with a shadow of government of sorts standing by, public acceptance of the real government’s overthrow would be that much easier. Luckily, our informer was able to tell me the location of the central election headquarters, and the fact that the candidates were Blunt and Ambrose.”

“Has this secret election already been held?”

Euler Frost glanced at him, wondering just how much Jazine really knew about it. “I think so,” he replied, “and I need to know who won. It makes a difference to our strategy whether the winner was Blunt or Ambrose. They’re different men, with different goals. Axman never viewed Nova as a major threat, but I’m not making the same mistake.”

“What do you need my help for?” Jazine asked.

“I have to get inside Nova’s election headquarters to see the results. The place has fantastic electronic defenses that I can only begin to comprehend. I need an expert with computers and wiring mazes.”

“Defenses didn’t stop HAND at the Federal Medical Center,” Jazine pointed out. “You just blasted your way through.”

“It’s not yet time for such a rash move. I want to see those election results without Blunt or Ambrose knowing I saw them.”

“Why not wait until they tell their members the results? Then your informer can pass along the information.”

“It may be too late by that time. My informer is very close to one of the candidates. If the other man won, I won’t know anything in time to take counter-measures.”

“If what you’re telling me is true, I can get President McCurdy on the vision-phone and have these people arrested.”

“No, for two reasons. There’s not enough evidence of their plot, and such a move would only bring the government down on HAND again. I’ve served enough time in the Venus Colony.”

That seemed to remind Jazine of something. “Did you know this Ambrose when you were there?”

“Only as a prisoner knows his warden.”

“He wrote to his former mistress about you.”

“How nice of him,” Frost said dryly.

They drove for a time in silence, until finally Earl Jazine asked, “Just where is this secret election headquarters?”

“They have a building in Chicago. I could show you tomorrow.”

Jazine grunted and was silent again.

T
HE FIRST THING HE
noticed about the girl was her youthful beauty, and the lightness of her walk as she came forward to meet him on the dock. She shook his hand and introduced herself, and he was surprised to learn that this child was Jason Blunt’s wife.

“You say he’ll be back soon?” Carl Crader asked.

“Soon, yes. Won’t you come in?”

She led the way up a landscaped path to a great cube of glass and metal that dominated the man-made drilling island. It was a house, he supposed, but such a house as he had never seen before. The door slid open silently as they approached, and closed just as gently behind them. She motioned to a great white couch that looked as if it might devour him, but Crader sank into it with surprising ease and found it really quite comfortable. The view through the front window, of the sea-rail line curving gently to the north, was truly breathtaking. It was obvious that the place was more of a home from the inside than it had appeared from the outside.

“Quite a place you have,” Crader said. “Been here long?”

“Jason and I have been married three years. We met in New Istanbul. I am Turkish.”

“A credit to your country.” He bowed a bit as he said it.

“Sometimes I miss New Istanbul,” she confided. “Especially when Jason is away and I’m alone here. The house is fully automated, and we need only a few servants. They’re very little company.” She walked to the window and stared out at the sea. “Do you play aqua-golf, Mr. Crader?”

“I rarely have time.”

“We have a nice little course here.” She pointed out the window and he could see the familiar green pod anchored just off shore. Aqua-golf was the sport of a crowded civilization, where there was no longer space for the elaborate courses of the twentieth century. On little more than an acre of land, usually built over the water, this version of clock golf used a single grouping of holes at its center, with the eighteen courses laid out in a radiating pattern.

Crader heard the familiar roar of a descending rocketcopter and glanced skyward. “Would that be your husband?”

Masha nodded. “That would be him.”

He followed her to the door to greet the trim, bearded man who bounded up the steps like a youth. Jason Blunt stopped short when he saw the visitor, and his questioning eyes were on Crader as he bent to kiss his wife.

“Darling, this is Carl Crader, from Washington.”

“New York,” Crader corrected. “Computer Investigation Bureau. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Blunt.”

“You caught me at a busy time,” Jason Blunt said. “As you can see, I’ve just returned …”

“Oh, I won’t take up much of your time,” Crader assured him, keeping it casual. “Just a few routine questions.”

“Very well.” He turned to his wife. “Masha, could you have some drinks mixed for us? We’ll be in the solarium.”

He led Crader down the hall to a large glassed-in room at the back of the house. It faced south, catching the maximum sunlight while presenting yet another panoramic view of the Gulf. Crader guessed the room to be fully thirty feet high, and even its ceiling was of glass, so that the whole effect was to stagger the visitor with a shimmering brilliance where light and water blended into one.

The room was almost devoid of furniture, though there were a few formfit lounges and a wireless vision-phone on a plastic stand. Jason Blunt slipped out of his jacket and stretched out on one of the lounges. Crader looked around, feeling uncomfortable, and finally chose to sit on the edge of the nearest lounge. “I won’t take too much of your time,” he repeated.

“I’d appreciate that.”

Something about the line of his face as he relaxed brought back memories to Crader, and he asked, “Didn’t you do some video acting in your younger days?”

Jason Blunt smiled at the recognition. “A touch of it. But my father never really approved. Acting today is such a feast for the makeup man, what with face foam and voice boxes. My father couldn’t even recognize me on the video or the holograms, and thus he was against it from the beginning. Finally I gave it up and joined him in his salvage work and the undersea oil drilling. That was nearly twenty years ago. I only wish he’d lived to see it now.” His face clouded for a moment and then cleared. “But what brought you here, Mr. Crader?”

“Actually, it’s about this election.”

“McCurdy? Did he send you here for a contribution?”

“I meant the election between you and Ambrose.”

Jason Blunt sat up. “I don’t think I get your meaning.”

“Well, I’ll explain it, then. The FRIDAY-404 computer was secretly programmed to receive the results of an underground election of sorts between you and a man named Stanley Ambrose. A technician named Rogers discovered the programming in the FRIDAY unit before your people had a chance to erase it. He was later murdered, but not before we were called into the investigation. We think your opponent is the Stanley Ambrose who directed the Venus Colony.”

That caused Blunt to stand. “You know a great deal. Do you have any proof of what you’re saying?”

“Enough, and we’re gathering more. You realize, sir, that a plot to overthrow our government …”

A chuckle here. “There is no plot! That’s hog-wash!”

“How would you describe it? A secret election is held, a man who discovers it is murdered, one of my own investigators is attacked …”

“Coincidence, nothing more.” The overhead sun was reflecting off the polished floor at his feet, creating the impression of a man standing in a pool of fire.

“But you admit the secret election was held? You admit to being a member of HAND?”

“HAND?” Jason Blunt roared with laughter. “I can assure you I have no connection whatsoever with that gang of criminals! The election certainly does not concern HAND!”

“Then what does it concern?”

He sighed and stroked his beard. “You realize, Crader, that you have no authority here. The Supreme Court ruled in 2020 that man-made drilling islands like this are beyond the jurisdiction of the USAC.”

“I’m aware of the laws,” Crader answered shortly.

Masha interrupted at that moment to serve drinks. “I hand-mix them for special guests,” she said as Crader accepted his.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Jason Blunt took his drink and seemed to study the amber liquid. Then suddenly he came to a decision. “Stay here overnight, Crader. In the morning I’ll fly you to Utah and tell you the whole story.”

“Utah!”

“That’s where it’s at.”

“Very well,” Crader decided. “I’ll take you up on it.”

“Can I come along?” Masha asked.

Blunt seemed startled by his wife’s request. He glanced at Crader and said, “Sure. Of course you can. It must get lonely for you here on the island. See what time dinner will be ready, and arrange one of the bedrooms for our guest. In the morning we fly to Utah.”

Although the flight was nearly 1,500 miles long, Jason Blunt chose to make it in his private rocket-copter rather than transfer to a commercial jet at Houston airport. As a result, the trip lasted some three hours, most of which Carl Crader spent in the passenger compartment with Masha.

“Does he always sit up with the pilot?”

She shrugged. “Usually. I don’t really travel with him that much. Occasional flights to New York, and that’s about it. He has the yacht, of course, and I love that.”

“How did you two happen to meet?”

She grinned a bit. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“A friend introduced us. A man named Stevro, back in New Istanbul.”

“You must have been very young.”

“I was.”

“They tell me Turkish girls are sometimes trained to wifely tasks and then sold to millionaire travelers. Is that true?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she said, blushing slightly.

“Have you ever been to this place in Utah before?”

“No. Never. Until recently, Jason never discussed business with me. Lately, with all the meetings …”

Blunt reappeared in the cabin, cutting short her sentence. “Well, Crader, it’s hardly fair of you to be questioning my wife behind my back.”

Crader started to deny the charge, but at his side Masha bristled. “It wasn’t like that, Jason! We were just talking!”

“I heard your talking, over the cabin speaker.”

“You’ve started eavesdropping on me now?”

Blunt’s face flushed with anger. “Remember what you are. Remember where I found you.” He turned and reentered the pilot’s cabin.

Embarrassed, Carl Crader watched the tears well in Masha’s eyes. “The bastard! How … how can he be so nice sometimes and such a bastard other times?”

“Don’t let it bother you,” he said, trying to comfort her. His eyes were on the wall speaker, and he was certain Blunt was still monitoring their conversation.

She recovered a bit and stared out the window. “I’m all right,” she said at last.

Crader decided to risk a renewal of Blunt’s fury. “You mentioned meetings …”

“I’d better not talk about it,” she said firmly.

“All right.”

They lapsed into silence for the remainder of the flight, until Jason Blunt reappeared to announce they were coming down for a landing. He was pleasant and talkative, as if nothing had happened, and he pointed out the features of the landscape as they descended.

“Over there on your left is an old Indian reservation from the last century. And what we’re landing on is a dry lake bed. There are lots of dry lakes in Utah. The whole damn state is a dry lake—or most of it, anyway. The northern section used to be part of the Great Salt Lake.”

The copter touched down effortlessly. “There’s nothing here,” Crader observed, scanning the horizon in all directions.

“Oh, there’s something.”

They stepped out of the rocketcopter and immediately the pilot reversed power to lift the machine off the desert floor. “He’s leaving us!” Masha exclaimed, somewhat alarmed.