That was all. Back against the wall. The thought of bluffing it through, swallowing the December 15 date and telling them to drop dead flashed through his mind. He threw it out violently, his heart sinking. That was only a few days, and.he had weeks of work ahead of him. He needed more time, he had to have it—
Rinehart was grinning confidently. “Of course I’d like to cooperate, Dan. But I have some plans for the Hearings, too. You’ve been getting on people’s nerves, down in the city. There’s even been talk on the committee of revoking your rejuvenation permit.”
Your move, Dan. Oh, what a blunder! Why did you ever come up here? And every minute you stand there with your jaw sagging just tells Rinehart how tight he’s got you—do something, anything—
Well, there was a way. Would Carl ever understand it? No telling. Carl had begged him never to use it, ever, under any circumstances, and Carl had trusted him implicitly when he had promised that he wouldn’t. It would be an outright betrayal, but if Carl Golden were standing here in his shoes, what would he say? He’d say yes, go ahead, use it, wouldn’t he? He’d have to.
“I want the Hearings on February 15,” Dan said to Rinehart.
“Sorry, Dan. We can’t be tossing dates around like that Unless you care to tell me just why.”
“Okay.” Dan grabbed his hat angrily. “I’ll make a formal request for the change tomorrow morning, and read it on the TV. Then I’ll also announce a feature attraction that the people can look forward to when the Hearings begin. We weren’t planning to use it, but you seem to want both barrels right in the face, so that’s what we’ll give you.”
Walter Rinehart roared with laughter. “Another feature attraction? You do dig them up, don’t you? Ken Armstrong’s dead, you know.”
“Peter Golden’s widow isn’t.”
The smile faded on Rinehart’s face. He looked suddenly like a man carved out of gray stone. Dan’s whole body was shaking as he let the words sink in. “You didn’t think anybody knew about that, did you, Walter? That’s too bad. We’ve got the whole story on Peter Golden, the whole story. Took quite a while to piece it together, but we did it with the help of his son. Carl remembers his father before the accident, you see, quite well. His widow remembers him even before that. And we have some fascinating video tapes that Peter Golden made when he applied for rejuvenation, and later when he appealed the committee’s decisions. Some of the private interviews, too, Walter.”
“I gave Peter Golden forty more years of life,” Rinehart said.
“You crucified him,” said Dan, bluntly.
There was silence, a long silence. Then: “Are you selling?”
“I’m selling.” Cut out my tongue, Carl, but I’m selling.
“How do I know you won’t use it anyway?”
“You don’t know. Except that I’m telling you I won’t.”
Rinehart soaked that in with the last gulp of his drink. Then he smashed the glass on the stone floor. “Change the date,” he told MacKenzie. “Then throw this vermin Out of here.”
Back in the snow and darkness Dan tried to breathe again, and couldn’t quite make it. He had to stop and rest twice going down to the plane. Then he was sick all the way home.
It was early evening when the plane dropped him off in New York Crater, and picked up another charter. Two cold eggs and some scalding coffee, eaten standing up at the airport counter. Great for the stomach, but no time to stop. Anyway, Dan’s stomach wasn’t in the mood for dim lights and pale wine, not just this minute. Questions and recriminations howled through his mind. The knowledge that he had made the one Class A colossal blunder of his thirty years in politics, this last half-day. The miscalculation of a man! He should have known about MacKenzie, or at least suspected. MacKenzie was getting old, he wanted a Retread, and wanted it badly. Before, he had figured Dan to get it for him. Then something changed his mind, and he threw in with Rinehart.
Why?
Armstrong’s suicide, of course. Pretty good proof that even Rinehart hadn’t known it was a suicide. If Carl had brought back evidence of murder, Dan was certain to win, MacKenzie had thought. But evidence of suicide—that was far too shaky. Walt Rinehart had his hooks in too deep to be dislodged by that.
The loudspeaker blared the boarding signal for the Washington Jet. Dan gulped the last of his coffee, and found a visiphone booth with a scrambler in working order. Two calls. The first was to Jean, to line up round-the-clock guards for Peter Golden’s widow on Long Island. Jean couldn’t keep surprise out of her voice. Dan grunted and didn’t elaborate; just get them out there.
Then a call to Carl. He chewed his cigar nervously. Two minutes of waiting while they corralled Carl from wherever he was. Then: “Carl, I just saw MacKenzie. I found him hiding in Rinehart’s hip pocket.”
“Oh, oh.” Carl’s face on the screen looked desolate. “Dan, we’ve got to have time.”
“We’ve got it, but the price was very steep, son.”
Silence then as Carl peered at him. “Do you mean what I think you mean?”
“I’m afraid that’s what I mean.”
“I see.”
“Lad, I’ll try to make it up to you, somehow, I swear I will,” Dan said miserably. “I hated myself, but I was trapped. If I just hadn’t been in such a hurry, if I’d only thought it out, but I was trapped. It was an awful error, and every bit of it was my fault.”
“Well, don’t go out and shoot yourself over it,” Carl said.
“I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later. What about Mother?”
“Shell be perfectly safe. They won’t get within £ mile of her. Look, son, is Fisher doing all right?”
Carl nodded. “I talked to him an hour ago. He’ll be ready for you by tomorrow night, he thinks.”
“Sober?”
“Sober. And mad. He was the right guy for the job.” Worried lines deepened on Golden’s forehead. “Look, Dan, don’t worry about—the price. What about you? How did Rinehart take it?”
“It scared him. He’d almost forgotten, I think. You carry on, now. Everything’s going to be fine.” Dan rang off, scowling. He wished he was as sure as he sounded. It was Rinehart with his back to the wall, now, and Dan wasn’t too sure he liked that.
An hour later he landed in Washington, and Jean was dragging him into the Volta. “Dad, if you don’t get some sleep now, I’ll personally put you out with ether. You’re lolling yourself. Now shut up while I drive you home.”
A soft bed, darkness, escape. When had he slept last? He couldn’t remember, but it was like heaven, with no dreams to bother him.