Condition B was called off long before Alexander came out of his coma. No H-missile attack had occurred, the unidentified objects never reappeared in the sky, and gradually the radar incident was forgotten. Alexander received a letter of recommendation and a boost to major from the Communications Command for his excellent handling of the riot-non-violence, judicious use of sedatives, and so forth. The station personnel were docked two months’ pay, and Julian Bahr was court-martialed out of the Army for striking an officer.
The court-martial was already over when Alexander regained consciousness. He pieced the story together later, when he got his promotion and new assignment to BURINF in New York. Bahr had refused counsel during the proceedings. He made no attempt to deny or refute the charges made by one of the lieutenants (who was soon promoted to captain for his excellent assistance to the investigating body), but sat silent throughout the trial, glaring at the Board of Officers with such open hatred and contempt that only consideration of the extreme circumstances saved him from Leavenworth.
Once out of the hospital Alexander had tried to reopen the case, but there was little official interest. Nothing Alexander could do, they had informed him, could influence the observed facts recorded on Bahr’s permanent Stability Record: that the man was contemptuous of authority and prone to violence, a dangerously unstable personality, and hence a serious Stability risk. Under the basic principles of the Vanner-Elling governmental system, this meant that Bahr would never be allowed to climb above a green-card position in any career he might choose, and that was that. Alexander never knew if Bahr had been informed of this, or whether he even cared.
And now, across the room from him, behind the glaring lights, was the same Julian Bahr, unquestionably a top lieutenant in DIA, the most powerful and mysterious of all governmental agencies, and Alexander wondered, wearily, who had slipped up, and where . . . .
“Now,” Bahr said, stepping around in front of him. “This nonsense has gone on long enough. We’ve given you every chance to help us.”
“I’ve told you everything I know,” Alexander protested. His heart began pounding suddenly as he saw one of Bahr’s men move a small sterile tray within his range of vision. The tray held two syringes and an alcohol sponge.
“You’re lying,” Bahr said. “We know that. We’ve considered the possibility that you may not be lying deliberately.”
“I’m not lying,” said Alexander.
“You’re afraid, aren’t you?”
“I’m not afraid.”
“But what are you afraid of? What are you hiding?” Bahr paused. “All right, start the recorder.”
Alexander had been straining forward against the restraining jacket; now he slumped back suddenly as the recorder began to hum.
“Your first name is Harvey?”
“Yes.”
“You hold the rank of major in . . . .”
“Army. Security Command.”
“Duty station Wildwood Power Project?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you held that post?”
“Six months.”
The routine questions, the endlessly routine questions, step by step, wearing him down. Alexander felt the fatigue and boredom slowing his pulse, blunting his responses.
“What security system was in force when you took command at Wildwood?”
“Standard Army, Class six.”
“Was that system still in effect last night?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Alexander felt a sudden respiratory spasm. His pulse started to pound. “Because I ordered it changed.”
Bahr circled in front of him, confident of the shock he had registered. “What plan did you substitute?”
“A modified Bronstock plan.”
“You devised it?”
“Yes.”
“Without authorization?”
“I had the authority to do it,” Alexander said.
“Why did you change the security system?”
“I felt the old system was not good enough,” said Alexander. “Class six is next to no security at all.”
“And your plan was better, I suppose?”
“Yes.”
Bahr leaned down to him savagely. “But it didn’t work,” he said.
Alexander did not answer.
“Why did you change the security system?”
“I told you—”
“Was it blackmail?” Bahr snapped. “Or were you bribed? Did you try to stall us at the plant to hide your own tracks, or was the stall a part of the plan?”
“You’re out of your mind,” Alexander said.
“Didn’t you tell me last night that no U-metal was missing?”
“Yes.”
“Was the U-metal missing?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t you try to prevent the investigating team from examining the plant?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tamper with the exit monitors?”
“No.”
“And the monitors would record any radioactive material passing out the gates?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know how the U-metal left the plant?”
“No.”
“Do you know the loopholes in your new security system?”
“There aren’t any loopholes.”
“You mean it’s absolutely flawless?”
“To the best of my knowledge.”
“But the U-metal was stolen.”
“Yes.”
“Doesn’t that prove that your security system had loopholes?”
Alexander groped for a way out of the trap. His eyes were burning from the glare of the lamps; his mind wasn’t functioning properly. The gap between questions and answers widened as he fought to shore up his sluggish control.
“Well?” Bahr said.
“There were no loopholes.”
Bahr jerked a chair around in front of him, sat down very close, leaning his arms on the back of it as he faced Alexander. “What was your post before Wildwood, Major?”
“Bureau of Information, New York.”
“Your position there?”
“I was Director.”
“You didn’t like the work?”
“I liked it.”
“Then why aren’t you still there?”
Alexander’s hands clenched the chair arms. “It’s on the record, you can look it up.”
“I don’t have time to look it up. Why were you downgraded?”
Not downgraded, Alexander’s mind screamed. Re-evaluated. Reassigned. Too much pressure, they had said. Too much aggression breaking through. BURINF can’t risk any instability in its personnel, Major. You can understand that. The nation depends on BURINF for stability.
“There was a routine stability check,” he said hoarsely. “I was re-evaluated, and reassigned.”
A cold smile crossed Bahr’s face. “Your position in BURINF was an important one, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“It gave you considerable national prominence, considerable power?”
“Yes.”
“And then they dumped you in a sludge-pot like Wildwood.”
“They couldn’t do anything else,” Alexander protested. “I was getting shaky. The psych-men had no choice but to reassign me.”
“You mean you approved the reassignment?” Bahr said incredulously.