"Surgeon General Hurwitz has already made it quite clear to me that, with the facilities and the time available to him, Commander Maseba did a first-class job," said Fong. "Without his efforts, MacGuinness would surely have been dead before Vee Twelve reached Earth."
"Thank you, Mr. President," Bruce said. "IH quote you on that, if I may. Although I doubt if it will make George feel any better if the patient doesn't survive."
"And Medusa left the Orphelin system how long after that call?" asked Fong.
"Forty minutes—during most of which time she was in the shadow of Orphelin Four, presumably picking up the exploration party," said Bruce. "After that she headed out of the system like a cat with its tail on fire, ignoring all signals from Vee Twelve
"What were your reactions at the time?"
"I was hopping mad, naturally," Bruce said. "Prince knew darned well that in that type of Emergency situation he had no right leaving the system without my permission."
"An uncharacteristic act on the part of Prince, would you say?"
"Completely."
"What happened next?"
"Maybe two minutes later we got this call through from the officer whom Lindstrom had left in charge of the party working on the recovery of the unexploded missile."
"And that call changed your assessment of the entire situation?"
Bruce nodded grimly. "It could hardly do otherwise. I became suddenly aware that what I had automatically assumed to be the work of the Kilroys could be that of some other agency—a human one, in fact."
"And Medusa, under the command of Robert Prince, was presumably the last Earth ship to have passed through the area."
Bruce's head bowed, his red hair showing a far greater sprinkling of grey than Fong had ever noticed before. He seemed almost to be talking to himself as he said: "Even when we had the cursed thing on board and battened down in a shielded hold, I kept telling myself that there had to be some other explanation..
"There still could be," Fong said.
"You don't really believe that either, do you?" Bruce said. "When Medusa left the Orphelin system I naturally assumed that she was headed back to Earth, to report to Niebohr what had happened on Orphelin Three. Instead she seems to have disappeared from known space. What else can I assume but that
Prince made a bolt for it when he realized that I had stumbled on the truth?"
"Thus making you even more certain of his guilt?" Fong said thoughtfully. "That seems a rather stupid thing to do."
"I agree with you," Bruce said. "I wish to God I could think of some other explanation."
"It does seem that the circumstantial evidence against Prince is very strong. But why would such a man be guilty of this act? The cold-blooded murder of five million people. . ." Fong rose to his feet and walked across to the open window, where he stood looking up into the night sky. It was some time before he spoke again, and when he did so it was in a low voice, almost as though he was vocalizing his thoughts for his own benefit alone.
"I wonder. . A special kind of man. . .one whose ideals are such that he has always lived in a world that exists mainly in his own imagination—a world where all the people are as good, honest and true as he has always tried to be. And yet, how could such a man exist in our world? If he did, he would surely become disillusioned and embittered, be forced to change his views?"
"Not Bob Prince," Bruce said. "At least during the time I was with him constantly, people seemed to respond to his trust by showing' him the better side of their nature. Perhaps it had something to do with his personal charm, but in the main people seemed to live up to his idea of them, and even if they didn't, he would always find some excuse for those who didn't."
The President nodded. "It would be easy to dismiss such a man as some kind of holy fool, except that I know Robert Prince was a great deal more than that. On the other hand, such a personality might well be tipped over the edge of insanity if he was forced to change the views on which his entire life was based. Say, for instance, that he were married to a woman whom he loved completely, uncompromisingly, trusting her without reservation, ignoring any suggestion that she might be something other than the chaste, wonderful creature his romantic idealism leads him to believe? But what if there came a time when the weight of evidence was so overwhelming that even he could not any longer ignore the fact that his ideal woman was a depraved, promiscuous whore who had cuckolded him on numberless occasions? What might such a man do in those circumstances?"
He turned to face Tom Bruce and saw that the Corpsman was staring at him, an expression of acute discomfort on his face.
"I should think he might very well murder her," Bruce said.
"Or destroy something that was associated in his mind with his wife," Fong said. "Some symbolic act that would give him a measure of relief without placing on him the intolerable burden of attacking her personally. Remember, he would still love her, if he was so constant."
"I think perhaps I'll have that drink after all, Mr. President," said Tom Bruce.
Chapter Twenty-two
A man becomes an adult only when he is able to distinguish his wants from his needs.
JOHN HYNAM—Chief World Congressional Librarian, Lake Cities.
Elkan Niebohr s office was at the top of the Excelsior Corporation building. An eyrie of stainless steel and glass that looked out over the panorama of Lake Cities, it was served by a private elevator which hummed its way smoothly upwards from the parking lot a hundred and fifty floors below in less than ten seconds. The doors opened with a slight hiss, and Elkan Niebohr stepped out onto the thick purple carpeting of an anteroom guarded over by a tall, grey-haired secretary of forbidding ugliness and complete reliability.
"Good morning, Miss Dalgethy."
"Mr. Niebohr," she acknowledged, looking up from her constantly busy typer. "You have a visitor."
He made a natural assumption. "Elsa here already?"
"No, sir—Doctor Wernher."
Niebohr frowned and hurried through into the
main office. Wernher was standing by the huge computer-controlled wall chart, which provided a constantly changing display of facts and figures about Excelsior holdings. He turned to face his employer, the square features composed.
"Why wasn't I informed that Medusa had landed?" demanded Niebohr.
"Because she hasn't," Wernher said evenly. "I came in four hours ago on Theseus."
"But Fong told me that Medusa had left the Orphelin system."
"She's done that for sure," Wernher said with a quiet arrogance that Niebohr found disconcerting. "What else did Fong tell you?"
"What do you mean?"
"You'd better sit down, Mr. Niebohr," Wernher said. This may come as something of a shock to you. They found MacGuinness."
Niebohr felt something lurch deep inside his gut The biologist—he's alive?"
"Just," said Wernher. 'Tor the time being, at least. He's been unconscious ever since they picked him up, so he hasn't talked yet."
Niebohr lowered himself carefully into a chair. "How could he possibly have survived?"
Wernher shrugged. "I led the mopping-up party myself, and I could have sworn we obliterated that camp of his. But don't worry, I'll get to him before he starts shooting his mouth off. That was one of my reasons for coming back here as soon as possible."
"One of your reasons?"
"There was something else Fong didn't tell you. That smart-assed bastard Bruce knows that Orphelin Three wasn't a Kilroy operation."
"How could he possibly guess that?"
"No guessing—one of the missiles was a dud and his people fished it up. The Corps are hardly likely to miss out on the identification of one of their own weapons."
An explosion of blind, choking rage mushroomed inside Niebohr. "You blundering fool" He began to raise himself from the chair,
"Steady . . . take it easy," Wernher said soothingly, raising one hand. "The unexploded missile was unfortunate, but it need not be disastrous. The way I've g
ot things figured, you should come up smelling of roses after all—thanks to good old Bob Prince."
This was no bluff, but the cool confidence of a man who had the entire situation under control, he reassured himself. Niebohr s anger subsided slightly.
"Prince—where is Prince?" he asked.
Wernher s solid features broke into a cruel grimace of a smile. "About now I'd say he was due for a spectacular cremation. Last time I saw him he was headed out of the airlock in the direction of a G-type sun, the name of which I couldn't even guess at"
"He's dead?"
"They don't come any deader."
"You killed him?"
"Naturally—to save your neck," Wernher said.. "Given another few hours, he and his pal Bruce would have blown the whole thing. Now—as far as Bruce is concerned, Prince ran out rather than face the incriminating evidence that was being found on Orphelin Three. I tell you this: Bob' Prince is going to be worth a great deal more to you dead than he ever was alive."
"And Medusa?"
"I was wondering when you were going to ask that question," Wernher said. "I'm afraid you're going to lose her too, but the insurance company ought to soften that blow slightly. Right now she's headed out to hell and gone with that lush Coogan in command. I quadrupled his pension, by the way—but don't worry, he won't have time to collect it. Quite soon, Medusa's going to have a pretty conclusive accident. My boys will take care of that, then make their way back in their own time aboard the scout ship. Nobody will ever know what happened to Medusa, other than the fact that Prince used her to make good his escape."
"You really think Fong and the Corps are going to believe Prince destroyed the Orphelin Three colony?" said Niebohr.
"What else can they believe?"
"But what if they should decide that he did it on my orders?"
"That wouldn't make sense," said Wernher. "Why should you order him to bomb the planet that has been your pride and joy for over twenty years?"
"The only weak link is MacGuinness. If he recovers consciousness and tells what he knows—"
"Relax, Mr. Niebohr. I'll take care of it, just as soon as we've settled one or two points about the future."
Niebohr looked up into the square, arrogant features and realized that he had made certain miscalculations at the outset of this affair. Elsa had been right about Wernher, more right than even she realized. He had allowed himself to be lulled into complacency because of the man's usefulness, but now he saw that Wernher had been playing his own game all along the line. Wernher saw himself as the potential successor to the presidency of Excelsior, but
he had known that he could never attain that goal while Prince was still around. Strange that neither he nor Prince appeared to realize that the true, natural successor was Elsa.
A pity about Prince. . .Elsa wouldn't like it at all. If she found out the truth, he had no doubt that she would tear Wernher apart with her own delicate claws, tough as he was. But there was no point in Elsa being involved in Wernher's disposal—as she herself had said, there were other hatchet men. Better for the time being that Robert Prince should re-, main in her mind as the missing hero.
"We'll talk about the future after you've finished off the job you started," he said firmly. "Just so long as MacGuinness stays alive there may be no future."
"For you, maybe—but nobody even knows I was on board Medusa," Wernher said.
Niebohr sighed inwardly. Impatience and greed. . . Such lack of subtlety. . . "Kurt, you have my word, you'll get everything you deserve. But first clean up this MacGuinness business. You may be in the clear personally, but he could ruin the entire Corporation—and that would hardly be in your interest, would it?"
"All right," Wernher said. "Although I think you're panicking unnecessarily. Even when MacGuinness does regain consciousness, there's no reason why he should immediately start chirping about this mutation thing. There are going to be other things on his mind besides that."
"You may be right—but I want it settled right now."
"It shall be done!" Wernher clicked his heels with a hint of arrogant mockery and left the room.
Niebohr waited for a few moments until he heard the muted hiss of the closing doors of the elevator, then he switched on his intercom.
"Miss Dalgethy—get me Chandos right away, will you?"
Admiral Karl Hurwitz was a big man with the round, ruddy-cheeked face of a prosperous butcher. Wernher looked at the great sausage-like fingers and thought contemptuously that only an organization like the Corps could ever have promoted such an oaf to the high position of Surgeon General.
"No. . .Doctor Wernher, I have given due consideration to your request, and I'm afraid that under the circumstances it is out of the question," Hurwitz said. "Professor MacGuinness's condition is extremely serious, and he is receiving the best treatment we can provide—"
"Precisely my point," cut in Wernher, deliberately smiling at a point beyond the Surgeon General's left shoulder. Through the window behind the desk he could see out over the sunlit roofs of the massive Corps Infirmary to the blue of the Pacific Ocean beyond. "Mr. Niebohr feels a special responsibility towards Professor MacGuinness, who is a valued employee, and he is determined to carry out his obligations to the full. He believes that the Professor's interests would best be served by transferring him to a private nursing home where he would receive personal attention."
"Even if I could accept the suggestion that this nursing home of yours was capable of providing for the special needs of the patient, I would still not consider sanctioning his transfer," said Hurwitz firmly. "Such a move would surely kill him."
"My dear Admiral, how can you possibly expect me to believe that?" said Wernher with deliberate insolence. "MacGuinness survived the transfer from Venturer Twelve to this infirmary—and he has been experiencing the benefits of what you yourself described as 'the best treatment' since then. Surely it is reasonable to assume that he should be this time be considerably stronger?"
"You should know, Doctor Wernher, that medicine is not always quite so predictable," said Hurwitz. "Professor MacGuinness was suffering from a bewildering variety of symptoms, some of which were masking others and making the task of diagnosis almost impossible."
"I see," Wernher said. "And can we take it that now the patient is receiving the treatment he really needs?"
"You will have to accept my word that that is the case," Hurwitz said.
"And the prognosis?"
"There seems to me no reason to suppose that he will not eventually recover completely—but it will be a long process."
"And his condition at this moment?" pursued Wernher.
"He is as well as can be expected."
"Oh now, come on Admiral," Wernher said derisively. "You're not talking to some dumb relative. I've heard all the platitudes before—used them myself."
"The patient is unconscious and he is being fed intravenously," Hurwitz said stiffly. "At the moment a heart/lung life-support system is backing up his natural resources, and he is also undergoing dialysis every eight hours to rid his system of the waste products produced by our measures against his multiple infections."
"In other words, he's in pretty bad shape—despite your so-called 'best treatment,'" Wernher said. He rose to his feet, his grey eyes flat and threatening as he stared at Hurwitz. "And I want to tell you this, Admiral. Mr. Niebohr isn't going to be at all happy if anything goes wrong. Should MacGuinness die, he will most surely take out an action for negligence against yourself and the Corps Infirmary."
The color of Karl Hurwitz's pink cheeks deepened. "You can tell your Mr. Niebohr that in the event of any such thing happening he can take his action against me personally. I shall take the greatest pleasure in defending myself against any accusations you may care to make. In the meantime, do me the favor of getting the hell out of my office and my hospital!"
"Am I to take it that you are denying me, as Mr. Niebohr's personal medical representative, the opportunity of making an indepe
ndent examination of the patient?" Wernher said. "I would remind you that I have a legal right to do so—which can be enforced if necessary by an injunction."
"Very well, Doctor Wernher," said Hurwitz. "I will give instructions to the physician in charge that you are to be allowed to examine Professor MacGuinness. But I warn you that if any attempt is made to remove him from my care at this time you will find yourself facing charges of unprofessional conduct."
"Thank you, Admiral," Wernher said, inclining his head in deliberate mockery. "I shall make it my business to inform Mr. Niebohr of your courteous cooperation. And now, if you will call someone to conduct me to the patient?"
Chapter Twenty-three
The Statesman lives with his failures— the Doctor buries his.
The Wit and Wisdom of Henry Fong (p. 235)
"I know you think I'm obsessional about this kind of thing, but I like to follow a case through," said George Maseba as Tom Bruce brought the flycar in for a landing on the parking , lot of the Corps Infirmary. "In any case, I feel kind of guilty that I didn't sort out that virus infection of MacGuinness's while we were on the way back to Earth."
"You did the best you could under the circumstances," said Bruce. "Hurwitz himself said you did a good job."
Maseba's dark face was solemn. "There's only one good job in medicine—and that's the one that gives the patient a one hundred percent cure."
"You sure don't let up on yourself, do you?" Tom Bruce said as he flipped open the canopy of the flycar and the two of them stepped out onto the con
crete. "We just lost five million people out there and you're worrying about one man."
"That's what matters in medicine," Maseba said as they walked toward the reception entrance. "The really important factor is the personal relationship between physician and patient."
Under any other circumstances Bruce might have made some remark about Maseba's semi-mystical approach to his vocation having archetypal roots in his ancestral African past, but he sensed that any of the tired old cracks about witch doctors that he and Lindstrom occasionally made when kidding Maseba would be in the very worst possible taste at this time.
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