“Resisting the police,” Bradford said. “We can’t permit that.”
“You don’t know what government is!” Hamner said. His control vanished and he stood, towering above Bradford. The little man retreated a step, and his smile froze. “You’ve got the nerve to call me a traitor after all you’ve done! I ought to break your neck!”
“Gentlemen!” Budreau stood at his place at the head of the table. “Stop it!” There was a roar from the Stadium. The Palace seemed to vibrate to the shouts of the constitutional convention.
The Cabinet room became silent for a moment. Wearily, Budreau continued. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. I suggest we adjourn for half an hour to allow tempers to cool.”
There was murmured agreement from the others.
“And I want no more of these accusations and threats when we convene again,” President Budreau said. “Is that understood?”
Grudgingly the others agreed. Budreau left alone. Then Bradford, followed by a handful of his closest supporters. Other ministers rushed to be seen leaving with him, as if it might be dangerous to be thought in opposition to the First Vice President.
George Hamner found himself alone in the room. He shrugged, and went out. Ernest Bradford had been joined by a man in uniform. Hamner recognized Lieutenant Colonel Cordova, commander of the Fourth Battalion of constabulary, and a fanatic Bradford supporter. Hamner remembered when Bradford had first proposed a commission for Cordova, and how unimportant it had seemed then.
Bradford’s group went down the hall. They seemed to be whispering something together and making a point of excluding the Second Vice President. Hamner merely shrugged.
“Buy you a coffee?” The voice came from behind and startled George. He turned to see Falkenberg.
“Sure. Not that it’s going to do any good. We’re in trouble, Colonel.”
“Anything decided?” Falkenberg asked. “It’s been a long wait.”
“And a useless one. They ought to invite you into the Cabinet meetings. You might have some good advice. There’s sure as hell no reason to keep you waiting in an anteroom while we yell at each other. I’ve tried to change that policy, but I’m not too popular right now.” There was another shout from the Stadium.
“Whole government’s not too popular,” Falkenberg said. “And when that convention gets through . . .”
“Another thing I tried to stop last week,” George told him. “But Budreau didn’t have the guts to stand up to them. So now we’ve got fifty thousand drifters, with nothing better to do, sitting as an assembly of the people. That ought to produce quite a constitution.”
Falkenberg shrugged. He might have been about to say something, George thought, but if he were, he changed his mind. They reached the executive dining room and took seats near one wall. Bradford’s group had a table across the room from them, and all of Bradford’s people looked at them with suspicion.
“You’ll get tagged as a traitor for sitting with me, Colonel.” Hamner laughed, but his voice was serious. “I think I meant that, you know. Bradford’s blaming me for our problems with the techs, and between us he’s also insisting that you aren’t doing enough to restore order in the city.”
Falkenberg ordered coffee. “Do I need to explain to you why we haven’t?”
“No.” George Hamner’s huge hand engulfed a water glass. “God knows you’ve been given almost no support the last couple of months. Impossible orders, and you’ve never been allowed to do anything decisive. I see you’ve stopped the raids on rebel headquarters.”
Falkenberg nodded. “We weren’t catching anyone. Too many leaks in the Palace. And most of the time the Fourth Battalion had already muddied the water. If they’d let us do our job instead of having to ask permission through channels for every operation we undertake, maybe the enemy wouldn’t know as much about what we’re going to do. Now I’ve quit asking.”
“You’ve done pretty well with the railroad.”
“Yes. That’s one success, anyway. Things are pretty quiet out in the country where we’re on our own. Odd, isn’t it, that the closer we are to the expert supervision of the government, the less effective my men seem to be?”
“But can’t you control Cordova’s men? They’re causing more people to desert us for the rebels than you can count. I can’t believe unrestrained brutality is useful.”
“Nor I. Unless there’s a purpose to it, force isn’t a very effective instrument of government. But surely you know, Mr. Hamner, that I have no control over the Fourth. Mr. Bradford has been expanding it since he took control, and it’s now almost as large as the rest of the regiment—and totally under his control, not mine.”
“Bradford accused me of being a traitor,” Hamner said carefully. “With his own army, he might have something planned. . . .”
“You once thought that of me,” Falkenberg said.
“This is very serious,” Hamner said. “Ernie Bradford has built an army only he controls, and he’s making wild accusations.”
Falkenberg smiled grimly. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”
“You wouldn’t? No. You wouldn’t. But I’m scared, Colonel. I’ve got my family to think of, and I’m plenty scared.” Well, George thought, now it’s out in the open; can I trust him not to be Ernie Bradford’s man?
“You believe Bradford is planning an illegal move?” Falkenberg asked.
“I don’t know.” Suddenly George was afraid again. He saw no sympathy in the other man’s eyes. And just who can I trust? Who? Anyone?
“Would you feel safer if your family were in our regimental barracks?” Falkenberg asked. “It could be arranged.”
“It’s about time we had something out,” George said at last. “Yes, I’d feel safer with my wife and children under protection. But I’d feel safer yet if you’d level with me.”
“About what?” Falkenberg’s expression didn’t change.
“Those Marines of yours, to begin with,” George said. “Those aren’t penal battalion men. I’ve watched them, they’re too well disciplined. And the battle banners they carry weren’t won in any peanut actions, on this planet or anywhere else. Just who are those men, Colonel?”
John Falkenberg smiled thinly. “I’ve been wondering when you’d ask. Why haven’t you brought this up with President Budreau?”
“I don’t know. I think because I trust you more than Bradford, and the President would only ask him . . . besides, if the President dismissed you there’d be nobody able to oppose Ernie. If you will oppose him that is—but you can stand up to him, anyway.”
“What makes you think I would?” Falkenberg asked. “I obey the lawful orders of the civilian government—”
“Yeah, sure. Hadley’s going downhill so fast another conspiracy more or less can’t make any difference anyway . . . you haven’t answered my question.”
“The battle banners are from the Forty-second CD Marine Regiment,” Falkenberg answered slowly. “It was decommissioned as part of the budget cuts.”
Forty-second, Hamner thought for a second. He searched through his mental files to find the information he’d seen on Falkenberg. “That was your regiment.”
“Certainly.”
“You brought it with you.”
“A battalion of it,” John Falkenberg agreed. “Their women are waiting to join them when we get settled. When the Forty-second was decommissioned, the men decided to stay together if they could.”
“So you brought not only the officers, but the men as well.”
“Yes.” There was still no change in Falkenberg’s expression, although Hamner searched the other man’s face closely.
George felt both fear and relief. If those were Falkenberg’s men—”What is your game, Colonel? You want more than just pay for your troops. I wonder if I shouldn’t be more afraid of you than of Bradford.”
Falkenberg shrugged. “Decisions you have to make, Mr. Hamner. I could give you my word that we mean you no harm, but what would that be worth? I will pledge to take care of your family. If you want us to.”
There was another shout from the Stadium, louder this time. Bradford and Lieutenant Colonel Cordova left their table, still talking in low tones. The conversation was animated, with violent gestures, as if Cordova were trying to talk Bradford into something. As they left, Bradford agreed.
George watched them leave the room. The mob shouted again, making up his mind for him. “I’ll send Laura and the kids over to your headquarters this afternoon.”
“Better make it immediately,” Falkenberg said calmly.
George frowned. “You mean there’s not much time? Whatever you’ve got planned, it’ll have to be quick, but this afternoon?”
John shook his head. “You seem to think I have some kind of master plan, Mr. Vice President. No. I suggest you get your wife to our barracks before I’m ordered not to undertake her protection, that’s all. For the rest, I’m only a soldier in a political situation.”
“With Professor Whitlock to advise you,” Hamner said. He looked closely at Falkenberg.
“Surprised you with that one, didn’t I?” Hamner demanded. “I’ve seen Whitlock moving around and wondered why he didn’t come to the President. He must have fifty political agents in the convention right now.”