Preferred Risk

by Lester Del Rey

  “It leads to the main reception room,” Carmody said.

  With the men outside, most of the guards who still remained awake might be there. But we had to chance it. We stopped when we reached the top, catching our breath while Zorchi sank to the floor, writhing silently.

  Then Rena threw back the door, Zorchi’s rifle poked through, and I was leaping for the main door controls, hoping the memory I had was accurate. I was nearly to them when the two guards standing beside them turned.

  They yelled, just as my rifle spat. At that range, I couldn’t miss. And behind, I heard Zorchi’s gun spit. The second guard slumped sickly to the floor, holding his stomach. I grabbed for the controls, while other yells sounded, and feet began pounding toward me.

  There was no time to look back. The doors were slowly moving apart and Carmody was beside me, smashing a maul from the storeroom onto the electronic controls of the atomic cannon. I twisted between the opening doors.

  “We’ve seized the vaults,” I shouted. “We need help. Any man who joins us will be saved!”

  I couldn’t wait to watch, but I heard a hoarse, answering shout, and the sound of feet.

  Carmody’s maul had ruined the door controls. But the other guards were nearly on us. I saw two more sprawled on the floor. Zorchi hadn’t missed. Then Carmody’s fingers had found another of the private doors that looked like simple panels here. Rena and Carmody were through, and I yanked Zorchi after me, just as a bullet whined over his head. Behind us, I heard uncontrolled yelling as men from outside began pouring in.

  It was our only hope. They had to take care of the guards, who were still probably shocked at finding us inside. We headed for the private quarters where Defoe would be, praying that there would be only a few there.

  * * * *

  This passage was useless to us, though. It led from office to office for the doctors who superintended here. We came out into an office, watching our chance for the hall we had to take. I could see the men who had been outside in action now. A few had guns of some kind, but the clubs in the hands of the others were just as deadly in such a desperation attack; men who had seen themselves already dead weren’t afraid of chances. About a score of the expediter guards were trying to hold off at least twice their number.

  Then the hall seemed clear and we leaped into it. Suddenly gongs began ringing everywhere. Some guard had finally reached or remembered the alarm system. Carmody cursed, and tried to move faster.

  The small private vault for the executives lay through the administration quarters and down several levels, before it was entered through a short passageway. Carmody had mapped it for me often enough. But he knew it by physical memory, which was better than my training. He’d also taught me the combination, but I left the door to his practiced fingers when we came to it.

  The elevator wasn’t up. We couldn’t wait. We raced down the stairs that circled it. Here Carmody’s age told against him, and he fell behind. Rena and I were going down neck and neck with Zorchi throwing himself along with us. He had dropped his rifle and picked up a submachine gun from one of the fallen guards, and he clung to it now, using only one hand on the rail.

  It was a reflection on a gun-barrel that saved us. The picked expediters were hidden in the dark mouth of the passageway, waiting for us to turn the stairs. But I caught a gleam of metal, and threw up my gun. Instantly, Zorchi was beside me, the submachine spitting as quickly as I could fire the first shot. “Aim for the wall. Ricochet!”

  The ambushers had counted too much on surprise. They weren’t ready to have the tables turned, nor for the trick Zorchi had suggested. Here we couldn’t fire directly, but the bouncing shots worked almost as well. There were screams of men being hit, and the crazed pandemonium of others suddenly afraid.

  Shots came toward us, but the wall that protected them—or was supposed to—ruined their shooting.

  Zorchi abruptly dropped, landing with a thud on his side. I grunted sickly, thinking he was hit.

  Then I saw the submachine gun point squarely into the passageway. It began spitting out death. By the time we could reach him, the expediters were dead or dying. There had been seven of them.

  Zorchi staggered into the passage, through the bodies, crying something. I jumped after him, blinking my eyes to make out what he had seen. Then I caught sight of a door at the back being silently closed. It was a thick, massive slab, like the door to a bank vault.

  Zorchi made a final leap that brought a sob of anguish as he landed on his weak legs, but his gun barrel slapped into the slit of opening. The door ground against it, strained and stopped. Zorchi pulled the trigger briefly.

  For a second, then, there was silence. A second later, Defoe’s voice came out through the thin slit. “You win. Dr. Lawton and I are alone and unarmed. We’re coming out.”

  The door began opening again, somewhat jerkily this time. I watched it, expecting a trick, but there was none.

  Inside the vault, the first room was obviously for guards and for the control of the equipment needed to wash all contamination out of the air and to provide the place with security for a century, even if all the rest of the Earth turned into a radioactive hell.

  Lawton was slumped beside the controls, his head cradled in his arms. But at the sight of us, he stood up groggily, his mouth open, and shock on his face.

  Defoe’s eyes widened a trifle, but he stood quietly, and the bleak smile never faltered. “Congratulations, Thomas,” he said. “My one fault again—I underrated the opposition. I wasn’t expecting miracles. Hello, Millen. Fancy meeting you here.”

  “Search the place,” I ordered.

  Carmody went past the two without looking at them, with Rena close behind. A minute later, I heard a triumphant shout. They came back with a cringing man who seemed totally unlike the genial Sam Gogarty who had first introduced me to fine food and to Rena. His eyes were on Carmody, and his skin was gray white. He started to babble incoherently.

  Carmody grinned at him. “You’ve got things twisted, Gogarty. Tom Wills is in charge of this affair.” He turned toward one of the smaller offices. “As I remember it, there should be a transmitting setup in here. I want to make sure it works. If it does, some of the Underwriters are going to get a surprise, unless they’re suspended.”

  Gogarty watched him go, and then sank slowly to a chair, shaking his head as he looked up at me. His lips twisted into bitter resignation. “You wouldn’t understand, Tom. All my life, worked for things. Class-C, digging in a mine, eating Class-D, getting no fun, so I could buy Class-B employment. Then Class-A. Not many can do it, but I sweated it out. Thirty years living like a dog and killing myself with work and study. Not even a real woman until I met Susan, and she went to Defoe. But I wanted it easier for the young men. I wanted everybody to have a good life. No harm to anyone. Pull together, and forget the tough times. Then you had to come and blow the roof off…”

  * * * *

  I felt sick. It was probably all true, and few men could make it. But if that’s what it took to advance under the Company rules, it was justification enough for our fight. “You’ll be all right, Sam,” I told him. “You’ll go to sleep with the others. And when you wake up, you may have to work like hell again, but it’ll be to rebuild the Earth, not to ruin it. Maybe there’ll even be a chance with Susan again.”

  Defoe laughed sardonically. “Very nice, Thomas. And I suppose you mean it. What’s in the future for me?”

  “Suspension until the new government gets organized and can decide your case. I’d like to vote now for permanent suspension.”

  His face lost some of his amusement. Then he shrugged. “All right, I suppose I knew that. But now will you satisfy my curiosity? Just how did you work the business with Bay 100?”

  “What happened to Slovetski?” I asked. I couldn’t be sure about some of my suspicions over Benedetto’s death, but I couldn’t take chances that the man might still be loose somewhere, or else hiding out here until we were off guard.

 
He shook his head. “I can answer, but I’m waiting for a better offer.”

  “Sam?” I asked.

  Gogarty nodded slowly. “All right, Tom. I guess you’re the boss now. And I think I’m even glad of it. I always liked you. I’ll answer about Slovetski.”

  Defoe snarled and swung, then saw my rifle coming up, and straightened again. “You win once more, Thomas. Your great international rebel cooperated with us very nicely after we caught him. We arranged for him to receive all calls to his most secret hideout right here in this room. It netted us his fellow conspirators—including your father, Miss dell’Angela!”

  She gasped faintly, but her head came up at once. “Nikolas was no traitor. You’re lying!”

  “Why should I lie?” he asked. “With the right use of certain drugs, any man can become a traitor. And Dr. Lawton is an expert on drugs.”

  “Where is he?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “How should I know? He wanted a radioactive world, so I let him enjoy it. We put him outside just before we closed the doors permanently.”

  Gogarty nodded confirmation. I turned it over. He might even have been one of the men waiting outside. But it wouldn’t matter. Without his organization and with a world where life outside was impossible, Slovetski’s power was finished.

  I turned to Zorchi. “The men who broke in will be going crazy soon,” I told him. “While Rena finds the paging system and reassures them they’ll all be treated in the reception room, how about getting Lawton to locate and revive a couple of the doctors you know and trust?”

  * * * *

  Rena came back from the paging system, and Zorchi prodded Lawton with the gun, heading him toward the files that would show the location of the doctors. Gogarty stood up doubtfully, but I shook my head. Zorchi was able to handle a man of Lawton’s type, even without full use of his legs, and I couldn’t trust Gogarty yet.

  “You can give me a hand with Defoe, Sam,” I suggested. “We’d better strap him down first.”

  Gogarty nodded, and then suddenly let out a shocked cry, and was cringing back!

  In the split second when both Rena and I had looked away, Defoe had whipped out an automatic and was now covering us, his teeth exposed in a taut smile. “Never underestimate an opponent, Thomas,” he said. “And never believe what he says. You should have searched me, you know.”

  The gun was centered on Rena, and he waited, as if expecting me to make some move. All I could do was stand there, cursing myself. I’d thought of everything—except the obvious!

  Defoe backed toward the door and slipped around it, drawing its heavy weight slowly shut until only a crack showed. Then he laughed. “Give my love to Millen,” he said, and laughed softly.

  I jumped for the door, but his feet were already moving out of the passage. The door began opening again, but I knew it was too late. Then, it was open. And amazingly, Defoe stood not ten feet away.

  At the other end of the passage, a ragged bloody figure was standing, swaying slowly from side to side, holding a rifle. I took a second look to recognize Nikolas Slovetski. He was moving slowly toward Defoe. And now Defoe jerked back and began frantically digging for the automatic he must have pocketed.

  Slovetski leaped, tossing the gun aside in a way that indicated it must have been empty. A bullet from Defoe’s automatic caught his shoulder in mid-leap, but it couldn’t stop him. He crashed squarely on Defoe, swinging a knife as the other went down. It missed, ringing against the hard floor.

  I’d come unfrozen by then. I kicked the knife aside and grabbed the gun from Defoe’s hands. Slovetski lay limp on him, and I rolled the smaller man aside.

  Defoe was out cold from the blow of his head hitting the floor. Gogarty had come out behind me and now began binding him up. He opened his eyes slowly, blinked, and tried to grin as he stared at the bonds. He swung his head to the figure on the floor beside him. “Shall we go quietly, Nikolas?” he asked, as Gogarty picked him up and carried him back to the private vault.

  But his sarcasm was wasted on Slovetski. The man must have been dying as he stumbled and groped his way toward the place where he knew Defoe must be. And the bullet in the shoulder had finished him. Rena bent over him, a faint sob on her lips.

  Surprisingly, he fought his way back to consciousness, staring up at her. “Rena,” he said weakly. “Benedetto! I loved him. I—” Then his head rolled toward me. “At least, I lived to die in a revolution, Thomas. Dirty business, revolution. When in the course of human events, it becomes—” He died before he could finish. I went looking for Lawton, to make sure Defoe was suspended at once. He’d be the last political suspendee, if I had anything to do with it, but there would be a certain pleasure in watching Lawton do the job.

  CHAPTER XX

  The doors of the reception hall were closed again, but there was no lock now. One of the two doctors whom Zorchi had trusted was there now, waiting for the stragglers who came in slowly as a result of our broadcast. We couldn’t reach them all, of course, but some could be saved. The men who had fought with us were treated and suspended. Even the boy and his dog had finally reached us and been put away.

  In the main room of the executive vault, Carmody was waiting for Rena and me as we came in, haggard from lack of sleep, but somehow younger-looking than he had been since we had first revived him.

  He stood up, managing a tired smile. “The first work’s done, Tom,” he said. “It wasn’t too hard, once they learned Defoe was suspended; a lot of the others were afraid of him, I guess. So far, I’ve only contacted the ones I can trust, but it’s a beginning. I’ve gotten tapes of their delegation of authority to you as acting assistant Chief Underwriter. I guess the factor that influenced them most was your willingness to give up all hopes of suspension for the emergency. And having Zorchi was a help, too—one man like him is worth an army now. I’ll introduce you tomorrow.”

  He stumbled out, heading toward the sleeping quarters.

  Well, I had the chance I’d wanted. And I had his promise to put off suspension until things were running properly. With time to develop a small staff, and with a chance to begin the work of locating the men to study the problems that had to be solved, I couldn’t ask for much more.

  Zorchi grinned at me. “Emperor Weels!” he mocked.

  I grinned back. “If you ever say that seriously, Luigi, I want you to say it with a bullet through my brain. I’ve seen enough cases of power corrupting.”

  For a second, he studied me. “If that day should come, then there shall be the bullet. But now, even I must sleep,” he said.

  Then he glanced at Rena. “I have left orders that a priest should be wakened.”

  She colored faintly.

  “You’ll be best man, I suppose?” I asked.

  This time, even his beard couldn’t conceal his amusement. “Is Zorchi not always the best man?” he asked as he left us alone.

  I stared at the vault that would be my home for the next twenty-five or fifty years—until I was an old man, and the rest of the world was ready to be awakened. “It’s a lousy place to spend a honeymoon,” I told Rena.

  She leaned against me. “But perhaps a good place to bring up children,” she said. “A place to teach them that their children will have a good world, Tom. That’s all a woman ever wants, I guess.”

  I drew her to me. It was a good way to think of the future, whatever happened. And it would be a better world, where the virtues of the Company could be used.

  Probably it wouldn’t be perfect.

  Even the best form of government all the experts could devise couldn’t offer a permanent solution. But it could give men a chance to fight their way to a still better world.

 

 

 
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