Hurd flicked off the computer's read out screen. The odds of Thorne's success of overthrowing the Galaef and taking over the Galactic Empire were better than he had anticipated. He leaned back, and with his foot he spun his chair one hundred and eighty degrees until he was looking up at Teddy Roosevelt. He sat stroking his mustache. With the knowledge at hand, the computers gave Thorne an eighty-five point six three three per cent chance of success, and if this were an accurate read-out, and if Thorne was able to step into the position of Galaef, that would mean Hurd would rise in power too. Thorne would be grateful for his help, and he might give him the entire solar system or maybe a galactic sector.
He heard a slight hum and spun his chair back in time to see a small red light flashing on one of the control panels. He pushed a button. "Yes?"
"It's your wife on line one, sir," said his secretary's voice over the speaker.
"Very good," said Hurd. He pushed another button. "Hello Sweetie Pie," he said in a honey-dripping voice.
. . . . .
"He did? That darn little pooch. I'll give him a good talking to when I get home."
. . . . .
"No, I won't be home 'til later this afternoon."
. . . . .
"It's not that Honey Pie. I have to take care of some business—you know, some of those darn, nasty rebels."
. . . . .
"Okay Sweetie. I'll see you later this afternoon. Bye bye."
Hurd rang off and pushed the button which signaled his secretary. "Send Juez in when he gets here."
"He's here, sir," she replied.
"Okay, send him in."
If something went wrong with Thorne's plan, he'd pop the pill—a painless way to bail out. And indeed a much better way out than the traitor's death, which involved torture and mutilation or even worse, the zi pits.
At that moment, Juez walked through the doorway. He was a tall man with white hair, brown skin, and a dignified look. If ever Hurd had met a man’s man , it was Juez. He walked across the room and came to a halt a couple of feet from Hurd's desk. "What do you want?" he asked.
Hurd looked Juez in the eye and snickered. Here was the people's champion, always trying to help those in need, always trying to bring up the so-called standard of living—as if it needed improvement, and always trying to strengthen the middle class. Juez was always voting against him in the council meetings, which greatly annoyed and aggravated him. He would have planned a little accident for Juez a long time ago, but he was too well liked by the citizens of Newusa, and more importantly, by the city patrollers. Soon, however, soon.
“You know,” said Hurd, “I believe it’s important that a person improve one’s vocabulary. It helps a person become more dignified and more intelligent. He pulled out the top desk drawer on the left and retrieved his vocabulary book. He pointed at the cover and recited the title, Words of the Intelligentsia,” he said. “I learn a word everyday, and you no what my word for today is?” Before Juez could say anything Hurd opened his book at the book marker and read, “Intractable, which means stubborn, disobedient, uncontrollable. And they give an example, which involves a disobedient child.”
Hurd paused, so Juez repeated himself, “What do you want?” he asked.
“Not much interested in vocabulary, eh? Okay then, your impatience forces me to the point," he said. It was going to be great wiping that dignified look off his face.
"Which is?"
"I have some bad news for you Juez." He waited, but Juez remained silent. "I felt it only right that you hear it from me and no one else."
"Well stop playing cat and mouse, and let's get to it."
Hurd stood up and clasped his hands behind his back. "It's about your son, Sam. It seems he’s been intractable."
Juez suddenly became apprehensive. He reached down and grabbed the front of the desk as if he were going to rip it off the floor. "What do you mean?" he asked in a low, threatening voice.
Hurd felt the penetration of Juez' glaring eyes. He sat in his chair behind his desk and secretly slipped his finger to the button that would create a magnetic force field around him and the desk. "Last night he was caught smuggling arms into the city," he said.
A look of horror swept over the councilman's face. "That can't be," he replied. "Last night he was home with me."
Hurd smiled. "Come now Juez. It's too late for that kind of nonsense. He was caught in the act." Hurd had him this time, and there was no way out. "And you know the penalty for smuggling arms—the run or the pit."
The creases in Juez' forehead furrowed slightly. "Surely you won't do this to my son?"
Hurd looked at him in mock seriousness. "But of course, I must. You realize the dangerous situation in this city. If I let one rebel go, it would serve as a bad example for our two million law biding citizens. A rebellion would break out. Many innocent people would be killed, and it would all be on my head. Besides, if it was my son, I’d do the same thing."
Juez ignored what he was saying. "But we can ship him to another planet."
"Oh no. The underground would find out, and then the whole city would know."
"But we could keep it quiet. We could smuggle him out."
"You know that wouldn't work," he said. "The underground has spies."
We have to work something out, Hurd." Juez was no longer pleading.
"There is a compromise, of course," said Hurd. He had noticed the change in Juez's tone. "If your son chooses the pit, I'll arrange with the warden to give him light duty. And that will keep him alive and healthy." Hurd paused waiting for a response, but Juez didn't say anything.
"Well?" asked Hurd.
"This time there is no choice, is there? My son will live, and I will help you with your plans for the city."
"That's exactly right. And we won't have any more quarrels at the council meetings, will we?"
"No, we won't"
"And that new tax bill I've been trying to get through . . . You've been giving me a lot of grief about it, but I'm sure it'll pass at the next meeting, won't it?"
Juez spoke in almost a mumble. "No trouble," he said.
"And of course that other problem we've been having with the armed forces."
"Of course," said Juez. “It seems you have me in a tight squeeze, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
Juez turned to leave and was almost to the door when Hurd said nonchalantly, "Oh, I almost forgot."
Juez turned and stared at him. Hurd was still sitting behind his desk.
"Your daughter was with them, and of course we can't make any excep . . . "
Before he could finish, Juez had jumped back and was drawing his phasor. "Not my daughter, you dirty bastard. God damn you, not my daughter."
He jerked out the phasor and fired, but the red ray bounced harmlessly off the shield and burned a hole in the ceiling.
A split second later a blue ray flashed out from the corner and hit Juez full on the shoulder. Hurd's bodyguard had been quick to react.
Hurd turned off the field and walked around the desk. He stood over Juez. "Your whole body is paralyzed, but you can still hear me." He turned him over with his foot so he could look him in the eye. "This outburst of yours will cost your son and daughter one week of hard labor in the pits." He pointed a finger at Juez. "You're a foolish man, Juez. You don't want me dead. If anything happens to me, the warden has his orders to kill them both. So you’re going to be like a second body guard, keeping me happy and alive." Hurd pulled at his long black mustache. "One more fact, Juez, your daughter hasn't been caught yet, but it won't be long. You see, the Galaef wants her as bad as I do."
He looked at his bodyguard. "Have someone take him home. And have the secretary send someone in to fix this hole. He pointed at the charred plastic in the ceiling. "When you're finished I'll be in the council chambers."
Hurd chuckled to himself. His worst opposition was now his best asset. Antagonist turned comrade. The people of the city would
no longer have their champion. The sheep would no longer have their watchdog. Yes, he had defeated the white knight. He became mirthful and laughed out loud. Indeed, this was a good day.
He stepped through the door and walked down the hall. Now it was time for the council meeting.
Chapter Twenty-six