“Quite clear, Colonel Thayer,” Ronald Black said softly. “And entirely satisfactory.”
* * *
“We have known for the past eight weeks,” the man named Cranehart said, “that this was not what it appears to be . . . that is, a section of a Geest weapon.”
He shoved the object in question across the desk towards Commissioner Sanford and Ronald Black. Neither of the two attempted to pick it up; they glanced at it, then returned their eyes attentively to Cranehart’s face.
“It is, of course, an excellent copy,” Cranehart went on, “produced with a professional forger’s equipment. As I imagine you’re aware, that should have made it impossible to distinguish from the original weapon. However . . . there’s no real harm in telling you this now . . . Geest technology has taken somewhat different turns than our own. In their weapons they employ traces of certain elements which we are only beginning to learn to maintain in stable form. That is a matter your government has kept from public knowledge because we don’t wish the Geests to learn from human prisoners how much information we are gaining from them.
“The instrument which made this copy naturally did not have such elements at its disposal. So it employed their lower homologues and in that manner successfully produced an almost identical model. In fact, the only significant difference is that such a gun, if it had been a complete model, could not possibly have been fired.” He smiled briefly. “But that, I think you will agree, is a significant difference! We knew as soon as the so-called Geest gun was examined that it could only have been made by human beings.”
“Then,” Commissioner Sanford said soberly, “its apparent discovery on Roye during our visit was a deliberate hoax—”
Cranehart nodded. “Of course.”
Ronald Black said, “I fail to see why you’ve kept this quiet. You needn’t have given away any secrets. Meanwhile the wave of public criticism at the government’s seeming hesitancy to take action on the discovery—that is, to rush protection to the threatened Territorial Segments—has reached almost alarming proportions. You could have stopped it before it began two months ago with a single announcement.”
“Well, yes,” Cranehart said. “There were other considerations. Incidentally, Mr. Black, we are not unappreciative of the fact that the news media under your own control exercised a generous restraint in the matter.”
“For which,” Black said dryly, “I am now very thankful.”
“As for the others,” Cranehart went on, “the government has survived periods of criticism before. That is not important. The important thing is that the Geest War has been with us for more than a human life span now . . . and it becomes difficult for many to bear in mind that until its conclusion no acts that might reduce our ability to prosecute it can be tolerated.”
Ronald Black said slowly, “So you’ve been delaying the announcement until you could find out who was responsible for the hoax.”
“We were interested,” Cranehart said, “only in the important men—the dangerous men. We don’t care much who else is guilty of what. This, you see, is a matter of expediency, not of justice.” He looked for a moment at the politely questioning, somewhat puzzled faces across the desk, went on, “When you leave this room, each of you will be conducted to an office where you will be given certain papers to sign. That is the first step.”
* * *
There was silence for some seconds. Ronald Black took a cigarette from a platinum case, tapped it gently on the desk, put it to his mouth and lit it. Cranehart went on, “It would have been impossible to unravel this particular conspiracy if the forgery had been immediately exposed. At that time, no one had taken any obvious action. Then, within a few days—with the discovery apparently confirmed by our silence—normal maneuverings in industry and finance were observed to be under way. If a major shift in war policy was pending, if one or more key bases were to be established in Territorial Segments previously considered beyond the range of Geest reconnaissance and therefore secure from attack, this would be to somebody’s benefit on Earth.”
“Isn’t it always?” Black murmured.
“Of course. It’s a normal procedure, ordinarily of no concern to government. It can be predicted with considerable accuracy to what group or groups the ultimate advantage in such a situation will go. But in these past weeks, it became apparent that somebody else was winning out . . . somebody who could have won out only on the basis of careful and extensive preparation for this very situation.
“That was abnormal, and it was the appearance of an abnormal pattern for which we had been waiting. We find there are seven men involved. These men will be deprived of the advantage they have gained.”
Ronald Black shook his head, said, “You’re making a mistake, Cranehart. I’m signing no papers.”
“Nor I,” Sanford said thickly.
Cranehart rubbed the side of his nose with a fingertip, said meditatively, “You won’t be forced to. Not directly.” He nodded at the window. “On the landing flange out there is an aircar. It is possible that this aircar will be found wrecked in the mountains some four hundred miles north of here early tomorrow morning. Naturally, we have a satisfactory story prepared to cover such an eventuality.”
Sanford whitened slowly. He said, “So you’d resort to murder!”
Cranehart was silent for a few seconds. “Mr. Sanford,” he said then, “you, as a member of the Territorial Office, know very well that the Geest War has consumed over four hundred million human lives to date. That is the circumstance which obliges your government to insist on your co-operation. I advise you to give it.”
“But you have no proof! You have nothing but surmises—”
“Consider this,” Cranehart said. “A conspiracy of the type I have described constitutes a capital offense under present conditions. Are you certain that you would prefer us to continue to look for proof?”
Ronald Black said in a harsh voice, “And what would the outcome be if we did choose to co-operate?”
“Well, we can’t afford to leave men of your type in a position of influence, Mr. Black,” Cranehart said amiably. “And you understand, I’m sure, that it would be entirely too difficult to keep you under proper surveillance on Earth—”
* * *
Celia Adams said from outside the cabin door, “I think it is them, Phil. Both cars have started to circle.”
Phil Boles came to the door behind her and looked up. It was early evening—Roye’s sun just down, and a few stars out. The sky above the sea was still light. After a moment, he made out the two aircars moving in a wide, slow arc far overhead. He glanced at his watch.
“Twenty minutes late,” he remarked. “But it couldn’t be anyone else. And if they hadn’t all come along, they wouldn’t have needed two cars.” He hesitated. “We can’t tell how they’re going to take this, Celia, but they may have decided already that they could make out better without us.” He nodded towards the edge of the cliff. “Short way over there, and a long drop to the water! So don’t let them surprise you.”
She said coldly, “I won’t. And I’ve used guns before this.”
“Wouldn’t doubt it.” Phil reached back behind the door, picked up a flarelight standing beside a heavy machine rifle, and came outside. He pointed the light at the cars and touched the flash button briefly three times. After a moment, there were two answering flashes from the leading car.
“So Wayne Jackson’s in the front car,” Phil said. “Now let’s see what they do.” He returned the light to its place behind the door and came out again, standing about twelve feet to one side of Celia. The aircars vanished inland, came back at treetop level a few minutes later. One settled down quietly between the cabin and the edge of the cliff, the other following but dropping to the ground a hundred yards away, where it stopped. Phil glanced over at Celia, said softly, “Watch that one!” She nodded almost imperceptibly, right hand buried in her jacket pocket.
The near door of the car before them opened. Major Wayne Jackson, hatless and in hunting clothes, climbed out, staring at them. He said, “Anyone else here?”
“Just Celia and myself,” Phil said.
Jackson turned, spoke into the car and two men, similarly dressed, came out behind him. Phil recognized Ronald Black and Sanford. The three started over to the cabin, stopped a dozen feet away.
Jackson said sardonically, “Our five other previous Earthside partners are in the second car. In spite of your insistence to meet the whole group, they don’t want you and Celia to see their faces. They don’t wish to be identifiable.” He touched his coat lapel. “They’ll hear what we’re saying over this communicator and they could talk to you, but won’t unless they feel it’s necessary. You’ll have to take my word for it that we’re all present.”