A permanent and effective quarantine was impossible. That left only one answer-an ugly one. But Ford was toughminded; he could accept what was necessary. He started making plans, Barstow’s presence in the screen forgotten. Once he gave the Chief Provost the location of the Howard Families headquarters it should be reduced in an hour, two at the most unless they had extraordinary defenses-but anywise it was just a matter of time. From those who would be arrested at their headquarters it should be possible to locate and arrest every other member of their group. With luck he would have them all in twenty-four to forty-eight hours.
The only point left undecided in his mind was whether to liquidate them all, or simply to sterilize them. Either would be a final solution and there was no third solution. But which was the more humane?
Ford knew that this would end his career. He would leave office in disgrace, perhaps be sent to Coventry, but he gave it no thought; he was so constituted as to be unable to weigh his own welfare against his concept of his public duty.
Barstow could not read Ford’s mind but he did sense that Ford had reached a decision and he surmised correctly how bad that decision must be for himself and his kin. Now was the time, he decided, to risk his one lone trump.
“Mister Administrator—”
“Eh? Oh, sorry! I was preoccupied.” That was a vast understatement; he was shockingly embarrassed to find himself still facing a man he had just condemned to death. He gathered formality about him like a robe. “Thank you, Zaccur Barstow, for talking with me. I am sorry that-”
“Mister Administrator!”
“Yes?”
“I propose that you move us entirely out of the Solar System.”
“What?” Ford blinked. “Are you speaking seriously?”
Barstow spoke rapidly, persuasively, explaining Lazarus Long’s half-conceived scheme, improvising details as he went along, skipping over obstacles and emphasizing advantages.
“It might work,” Ford at last said slowly. “There are difficulties you have not mentioned, political difficulties and a terrible hazard of time. Still, it might.” He stood up. “Go back to your people. Don’t spring this on them yet. I’ll talk with you later.”
Barstow walked back slowly while wondering what he could tell the Members. They would demand a full report; technically he had no right to refuse. But he was strongly inclined to cooperate with the Administrator as long as there was any chance of a favorable outcome. Suddenly making up his mind, he turned, went to his office, and sent for Lazarus.
“Howdy, Zack,” Long said as he came in. “How’d the palaver go?”
“Good and bad,” Barstow replied. “Listen-” He gave him a brief, accurate résumé. “Can you go back in there and tell them something that will hold them?”
“Mmm . . . reckon so.”
“Then do it and hurry back here.”
They did not like the stall Lazarus gave them. They did not want to keep quiet and they did not want to adjourn the meeting. “Where is Zaccur?”-“We demand a report!”-“Why all the mystification?”
Lazarus shut them up with a roar. “Listen to me, you damned idiots! Zack’ll talk when he’s ready-don’t joggle his elbow. He knows what he’s doing.”
A man near the back stood up. “I’m going home!”
“Do that,” Lazarus urged sweetly. “Give my love to the proctors.”
The man looked startled and sat down.
“Anybody else want to go home?” demanded Lazarus. “Don’t let me stop you. But it’s time you bird-brained dopes realized that you have been outlawed. The only thing that stands between you and the proctors is Zack Barstow’s ability to talk sweet to the Administrator. So do as you like the meeting’s adjourned.”
“Look, Zack,” said Lazarus a few minutes later, “let’s get this straight. Ford is going to use his extraordinary powers to help us glom onto the big ship and make a getaway. Is that right?”
“He’s practically committed to it.”
“Hmmm- He’ll have to do this while pretending to the Council that everything he does is just a necessary step in squeezing the ‘secret’ out of us-he’s going to double-cross ’em. That right?”
“I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I-“