the cup to spinning.”
He did so, and in less than a minute the pencil-thin beam came in, chopped up into evenly-spaced dashes by the
rotation of the cup-antenna of the car. There was of course no voice or signal.
While Jules was manipulating his finders to determine the exact line of the beam, he said, “Better unlimber the
launchers, Evie, and break out some bombs. Just in case somebody wants to argue with us on the way. I’ll handle the
other stuff.”
“That’s a thought-” She broke off; her tone changed, “But just suppose that’s their beam?”
“Could be; so we’ll have to look a little bit out when we land. But they know that. So if everything’s okay they’ll
engineer a safe approach-we won’t have to. They know who we are.” Things had gone wrong. They had given the
right signal at the rendezvous-but the wrong people had responded. Now they had to find out why!
III
Democracy failed because it could not cope with Communism. This failure, which began early in the twentieth
century, became very evident when, in 1922, Canada, the United States of America and Mexico united to form
the United States of North America. The Congress of the USNA argued and filibustered, but could not agree
upon any effective action against Communism. The Premier of Russia, however, acted. He issued orders; the
recipients of which either obeyed them promptly or were promptly shot. (Mees, History of Civilization, Vol. 21,
p. 1077).
The Head
Sliding down the beam, the d’Alembert’s vehicle was heading directly toward the roof of a building that towered at
least forty stories above any other structure in its neighborhood.
Jules slowed down; approached it gingerly; stopped half a mile away. It was all dark, except, strangely enough, for a
small, brightly-lighted spot on the roof of one wing.
“Scan it,” Jules said. “Infra first. See what it is.”
Yvette put her eye to the scanner. “Hall of State; Sector Four. That makes sense. State would be the best place to
hide the Service, wouldn’t it?”
“Check. And the spot?”
“Floodlight. One. That’s a girl, standing in it. Young. Skinny, but not bad for an Earther. Black hair-throat-
mike-sweater-shorts-two Mark Twenty-Nine Service blasters hanging loose-sandals. Sneak up, Julie.”
Jules dropped the “car”-which was in fact one of the deadliest fighting machines of its weight ever built by man
-down to within a couple of hundred yards of the lighted spot and stopped; and that highly distinctive throaty con-
tralto voice came again from the speaker.
“It’s safe to talk now if we don’t say too much,” the voice said conversationally. “Are you armed?”
“Yes.” Jules wasn’t saying much, yet.
“Good. You won’t need these, then.” The girl walked out of the ring of light, put the brutal big hand-weapons down
on the roof, and resumed her former place. “You recognize my voice, of course.”
“Yes.”
“You have a retinascope, I suppose.” “Yes. Hold it a minute.”
Jules cut corn and turned to his sister. “I don’t like this a nickel’s worth. What Earther’s pattern, except the Head’s”
would we recognize without a comparison disc? Nobody’s. So, if this is on the up and up, we’ve got to manhandle
the Head himself.”
Yvette bit her lip. “Well, you said they’d arrange a safe approach, and that certainly would be one. What else can we
do?”
“Nothing,” and Jules again flipped the blue switch. “Go ahead.”
“Land anywhere you please and one person will come aboard. Unarmed.”
“Oke.” Jules landed the car well away from the ring of light and opened a port.
In the darkness all that could be seen of the man who came up, empty bands outstretched, was that he was of
medium height, of medium build and almost completely bald. He put his hands in through the port and Yvette,
taking one of his wrists in each hand, helped him through the narrow opening and into the cramped front compart-
ment of the car, where she held him gently but securely while Jules applied the retinascope to the Earthman’s right
eye.
“The Head himself,” Jules said. “I’m sorry, sir….. “Think nothing of it, Jules.” The stranger laughed deeply. “If you
had acted differently I would have been amazed, displeased and disappointed. As it is, I am very glad indeed to meet
you in the flesh,” and he shook hands vigorously. “And you too, Yvette, my dear.” Taking her hand, he kissed it in as
courtly a fashion as though that tiny, cramped compartment were a ballroom. “And now-purely a formality, of
course-the eyes. Yvette first, please,” and he banded her the ‘scope.
She fitted it to her eye. “But you didn’t put any disc in,” she said. “Surely, sir, you don’t. . . .”
“I surely do.” He studied her pattern briefly, then Jules’. “I don’t know very many patterns, of course; but Jules and
Yvette d’Alembert? You’re too modest altogether, my dear.” Then, opening the port, he called out, “Still safe,
Helena?”
“Still safe, father,” the girl called back, and began to walk toward the car. “Nothing suspicious, they say, within three
hundred miles of here.”
“Fine,” Jules said. He opened the car up and all three got out. Jules went on, “I was hoping we were fast enough to
get away clean, but I couldn’t be sure. Now, sir, about our guests,” and be jerked a thumb toward the rear com-
partment where the prisoners soddenly slept.
“Ah, yes. I’ve been wondering about them. The reports were confused and contradictory.”
“I’m not surprised; it happened fast. That one-” Jules pointed-“is probably just a low-bred gunnie that doesn’t know a
thing. The other one may not know anything or he may know a lot,” and he told, in a very few words. about the too
imperturbable observer of the brawl. He finished: “So our secret rendezvous was no secret.”
“I see.” The Head raised his left wrist to his lips and said, “Colonel Grandon.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Be on the roof in exactly two minutes. You’ll find two men who got number three stunbeams about twenty minutes
ago. They’re in a Mark Forty-One Service Special near Space Jay Twelve. Revive them, find what they know and
report.”
“Very well, sir,” and the Head led the way to an elevator. The elevator took them down to the thirty-first floor,
where it stopped of itself and opened its door into what was very evidently the private office of an exceedingly im-
portant man.
It was a fairly large room, furnished richly but quietly. The rug, brown in color, was thick and soft. The beamed
ceiling was of beautifully grained brown solentawood; the panelled walls were of the same fine, almost metal-hard
wood. On the wall behind the big solentawood desk was inlaid the gold-crowned Shield of Empire.
“Now we can talk,” the girl said then, holding out her hand to Jules. “I’m Grand Lady. . . . Oh, excuse that please!”
She flushed hotly, whereupon Jules kissed her hand in true Court style; after which she shook hands cordially with
both Jules and Yvette.
“She should blush, friends,” the Head said, but with no reproof in his voice. “But she hasn’t been in the Service very
long.” Turning to the girl, he went on. “You are the Head’s Girl Friday here, my dear. Our guests are of the thinnest
upper crust of the entire Service; their worth to the Crown is immeasureable-beyond any number of Grand Ladies.
We’ll sit down, please, and Helena will pour. A whiskey sour for me, if you please.” He cocked an eyebrow at his
two agents. “Yours?”
“Orange juice, please,” Yvette said, promptly; and Jules said, “Lemonade” please” if you have it handy.”
Drinks in hand-Grand Lady Helena was drinking a weirdlooking ice-cream concoction-the Head said:
“The attack on you was a complete surprise. No leak” no hanky-panky was even suspected until the man who was to
bring you to me here was killed. The connection between this business and the matter that brought you to Earth is
clear. In that connection it is a highly pleasing thought that the opposition knows nothing of you or of the Circus.
You agree?”
“I agree, sir,” Jules said, and Yvette nodded.
But Helena was puzzled. “How can it follow that they don’t know, father?”
“The d’Alemberts are new to you because there is no record anywhere of any connection between them and us.
Except for this surprise attack you would not be learning of them now. I will go into detail after they leave, but for
the present I will simply state as a fact that no one who knows anything about them would send only six men against
Jules and Yvette d’Alembert. Or, if only six, all six would have fired simultaneously and on sight at them instead of
burning the contact man first. That shows that they were more afraid of the Service here than of the supposed
Delfian agents-a fatal error.”
“Oh, I see-excuse me, please, for interrupting.” “That’s quite all right. It’s part of your education, Girl Friday. To