“It couldn’t be done!”
“Couldn’t it? It’s going to be done. I’ve a crew working on it right this minute.”
O’Brien shrugged. “All right then. You do it. Your interference would work once—maybe twice; then Glass would stop putting questions until he’d smoked you out. And what would you have accomplished?”
“You have it figured the way I figure it,” said Movius. “But you miss the essential point.” He held up a hand, bent down a finger. “We wish to stage a revolution.” Another finger bent down. “One of the government’s strongest points is the inertia—the ‘Oh, what the hell?’ attitude of so many people who don’t feel they have cause to revolt. They’re a millstone around the neck of our revolution. Potential informers, potential enemies every one.” Another finger bent down. “And why? Because the government operates behind a mask of legality which they feel has the semantic label correct.”
“You sound like Quilliam London,” muttered O’Brien.
“Do I really?” Movius bent his other finger, clenched his hand into a fist. “We take away the government’s major tool of legality and they will be forced to come out from behind the mask. It’s either that or admit they’ve loaded the questions to get their own answers. They’d never do that.”
“Everybody knows that anyway,” said O’Brien.
“You make a common error,” said Movius. “Everybody knows this because I know. Before many people could know this they’d have to admit to themselves that they’d forged their own shackles and raised their own despots. Most people don’t have a strong enough ego to do that. History has never seen such a mass admission. No. People strike out at a scapegoat, someone or something else which absorbs all of the personal guilt.” Movius smiled. “I’m fitting Glass for so tight a hair coat you won’t be able to tell him from a goat—a scapegoat.”
O’Brien straightened. “So you’re taking over. If you think your silly threat against my life is going to make me…”
“How would you like to have Glass, Gerard, Addington and company learn about your secret organization, your charts, your plans, your position as advisor to the Seps?”
The Bu-Psych chief paled.
“That’s a much better threat, isn’t it? If anything happens to me they will learn.” He paused for effect. “You will select the expert staff I have requested. Four men. More would cause delay. Outline to this staff exactly what they will be doing. Have them ready for me at a half-hour’s notice.”
O’Brien seemed in a trance. “Half an hour’s notice.” He swallowed. “You can’t…” He broke off, studied the look on Movius’ face. “Where will they report?”
“At the new Separatist headquarters. It’s under the street between here and the Bureau of Education Building. The entrance is in your sub-basement, conduit tunnel two on your plans. We’re using your building air-conditioning system.”
“Under my…”
“We’re also going out with your phones through a section of your switchboard.”
“But…”
“The Sep movement really started here, O’Brien. It’s only fair that it make its big bid from here.”
O’Brien sank into a chair.
“In case Gerard goes for The Coor’s deal, I want asylum in Bu-Psych,” said Movius.
O’Brien had trouble finding his voice. “Can’t do it,” he piped. “We haven’t the strength to fight an open…”
“Then Grace and I will hide in the new headquarters.”
“Grace and you…”
Movius glanced at his watch. “I’m due back at Gerard’s office right now.”
As he left the building, climbed into his car, Movius noted that it hadn’t been too difficult to turn the tables on the omnipotent O’Brien.
Upstairs in Bu-Psych, O’Brien was repairing Movius’ torn decision chart, replacing it on the wall.
Chapter 22
Gerard leaned back in his chair, put a hand over the mouthpiece of his phone, glanced at Movius. He looked like a small bald devil sitting behind the big desk, Movius thought. Gerard said, “It’s…” He talked back to the phone. “Yes, I’m still waiting.” He leaned forward, scribbled on a slip of paper, “It’s Glass wanting to talk to me,” shoved the paper across the desk.
Movius bit a hangnail off his thumb, retrieved the paper. He glanced at it, tossed it back to the desk.
“Hello,” said Gerard. “Oh, hello, Helmut. Haven’t heard from you since last month’s conference…. Oh, I’ve been quite well, thank you. And you?… Good to hear it. What can I do for you?… Movius? Yes, I believe I have a man by that name working for me. His order came to us through the selector.” Gerard smiled at Movius as he listened. “Are you sure it’s the same man? You make him sound dreadful. Leader of the Seps? Goodness! Say… now that you remind me, wasn’t he once engaged to that blonde I saw with you at the Festival? I believe I heard some story about Movius throwing her over before you met her…”
Movius smiled at the fierce grin on Gerard’s face.
“Oh, that’s the way it was,” said Gerard. “I guess I had the story twisted. Well, what do you want me to do about him?” Gerard nodded, listened. “Oh, I couldn’t do that, Helmut. You should see the requirements I fed into the Sorter to get him. Why, they… Oh, you’ve seen his card. Well, then you understand when I say he’s a valuable man. I think this Sep business is nonsense… You don’t say… Have you really?” Gerard leaned back, stared at the ceiling, the phone held loosely against his ear. His expression became thoughtful. “I’ll tell you what, Helmut; let me consider it. I’ll call you back and let you know my decision.” He nodded. “Yes. Right away. Good opps.” He replaced the phone on its hook, looked at Movius pensively.
“He wants to trade you something attractive for my hide,” said Movius.
Gerard swung around to face his desk. “My own man in Addington’s job.”
“He’s finally gotten wise to Addington,” said Movius. “What does he propose to do with owl guts?”
“I can only guess. Hoist him out a window, maybe.”
Movius thought of the three men Gerard had caused to be dropped from the window, fought down a shudder. He took a deep breath. “Why not ask Glass if you can put me in Addington’s job?”
Gerard jerked his eyes up, suddenly leaned back and laughed.
The realization came to Movius that Gerard actually had not come to a decision on The Coor’s office. He said, “You know what this means, don’t you?”
The laughing stopped. “What?”
“Glass is spooked.”
“Because you knocked over a minor cog like Rafe Newton?” Gerard shook his head. “Even if Rafe was his nephew, don’t give yourself airs on that account.”
“Newton? I wasn’t thinking about Newton.” Movius fell silent, looked at his fingernails. What would temp the man? How much would Gerard believe? He believed in the loyalty index, certainly.
“You were saying,” prompted Gerard.
“I’ve assumed you might want to be Coordinator,” said Movius.
Steepled hands came up in front of Gerard’s mouth, masking his expression. “What ever gave you that idea?”
Movius set his face in what he hoped was a candid, loyal expression. “I figured that if you were Coordinator and I was say in charge of Bu-Trans and Bu-Con, both of us might get a decent night’s sleep.”