Operation Chaos by Poul Anderson. Chapter 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 28

“The Johnnies are entitled to their opinions,” Barney said. “Shucks, I’ll agree with certain claims of theirs. This society has gotten too worldly, too busy chasing dollars and fun, too preoccupied with sex and not enough with love, too callous about the unfortunate‑”

“Barney,” I snapped, “you’re trying to sidetrack me and cool me off, but it’s no go. Either I get your help soon or I take my marbles elsewhere.”

He sighed, fumbled a pipe from his tweed jacket and began stuffing it. “Okay, continue. If the Feds can’t find proof that the Johannine hierarchy is engaged in activities illegal or subversive, does that prove the hierarchy is diabolically clever . . . or simply innocent?”

“Well, the Gnostics brag of having information and powers that nobody else does,” I said, “and they do get involved one way or another in more and more of the social unrest going on‑and mainly, who else, what else might be connected with this thing that’s happened? Maybe even unwittingly; that’s imaginable; but connected.’

I leaned forward. “Look, Barney,” I went on, “Shining Knife admits he’ll have to move slow. And Washington’s bound to keep him on tighter leash than he wants personally. Tomorrow, no doubt, he’ll have agents interviewing various Johnnies. In the nature of the case, they’ll learn nothing. You’d need mighty strong presumptive evidence to get a search warrant against a church, especially one that so many people are convinced bears the final Word of God, and most especially when the temple’s a labyrinth of places that none but initiates in the various degrees are supposed to enter.

“Well, if and when you got your warrant, what could you uncover? This was no ordinary job. The usual tests for nigromancy and so forth aren’t applicable. Why, if I were High Adept Zarathra, I’d invite the G‑men to come inspect everything that’s religiously permissible. What could he lose?”

“What could you gain?” Barney replied.

“Perhaps nothing I said. “But I mean to act now, not a week from now; and I won’t be handicapped by legal rules and public opinion; and I do have special abilities and experience in dark matters; and they won’t expect me; and in short, if anything’s there to find, I’ve the best chance in sight of finding it.”

He scowled past me.

“As for the moral issue,” I said, “you may be right. On the other hand, I’m not about to commit brutalities like some imaginary Special Agent Vee Eye Eye. And in spite of Shining Knife’s fear, I honestly don’t see what could provoke a major invasion from the Low World. That’d bring in the Highest, and the Adversary can’t afford such a confrontation.

“Which is worse, Barney, an invasion of property and privacy, maybe a profanation of a few shrines . . . or a child in hell?”

He set his glass down on an end table. “You win!” exploded from him. Blinking in surprise: “I seem to ‘ve smashed the bottom out of this tumbler.”

“Finish mine,” I said. “I’m on my way.”

We rose together. “How about a weapon?” he offered.

I shook my head. “Let’s not compound the felony. Whatever I meet, probably a gun won’t handle.” It seemed needless to add that I carried a hunting knife under my civvies and, in wolf‑shape, a whole mouthful of armament. “Uh, we’ll fix it so you’re in the clear. I visited you; that can no doubt be proven if they try hard. But I sneaked back after I left and boosted your broom.”

He nodded. “I suggest you take the Plymouth,” he said “It’s not as fast as either sports job, but it runs quieter and the besom was tuned only the other day.” He stood for a bit, thinking. Stillness and blackness pressed on the windowpanes. “Meanwhile I’ll start research on the matter. Bill Hardy . . . Janice Wenzel from our library staff . . . hm, we could co‑opt your Dr. Ashman, and how about Prof Griswold from the University? … and more, able close‑mouthed people, who’ll be glad to help and hang any consequences. If nothing else, we can assemble all unclassified data regarding the Low Continuum, and maybe some that aren’t. We can set up equations delimiting various conceivable approaches to the rescue problem, and crank ’em through the computator, and eliminate unworkable ideas. Yeah, I’ll get busy right off.”

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