It didn’t make sense.
Personnel did not behave erratically without a reason. One man might be unpredictable, but in large numbers, they were as dependable as machines, or figures. They could be measured, examined, classified. His inner eye automatically pictured the personnel office, with its rows of filing cabinets, its clerks – He’d got it! He’d got it! Van Kleeck, as Chief Deputy, was ex officio personnel officer for the entire road!
It was the only solution that covered all the facts. The personnel officer alone had the perfect opportunity to pick out all the bad apples and concentrate them in one barrel. Gaines was convinced beyond any reasonable doubt that there had been skullduggery, perhaps for years, with the temperament classification tests, and that Van Kleeck had deliberately transferred the kind of men he needed to one sector, after falsifying their records.
And that taught another lesson-tighter tests for officers, and no officer to be trusted with classification and assignment without close supervision and inspection. Even he, Gaines, should be watched in that respect. Qui custodiet ipsos custodes? Who will guard those selfsame guardians? Latin might be obsolete, but those old Romans weren’t dummies.
He at last knew wherein he had failed, and he derived
melancholy pleasure from the knowledge. Supervision and inspection, check and re-check, was the answer. It would be cumbersome and inefficient, but it seemed that adequate safeguards always involved some loss of efficiency.
He should not have entrusted so much authority to Van Kleeck without knowing more about him. He still should know more about him- He touched the emergency-stop button, and brought the car to a dizzying halt. “Relay station! See if you can raise my office.”
Dolores’ face looked out from the screen. “You’re still there-good!” he told her. “I was afraid you’d gone home.”
“I came back, Mr. Gaines.”
“Good girl. Get me Van Kleeck’s personal file jacket. I want to see his classification record.”
She was back with it in exceptionally short order and read from it the symbols and percentages. He nodded repeatedly as the data checked his hunches – masked introvert-inferiority complex. It checked.
“‘Comment of the Board:'” she read, “‘In spite of the potential instability shown by maxima A, and D on the consolidated profile curve, the Board is convinced that this officer is, nevertheless, fitted for duty. He has an exceptionally fine record, and is especially adept in handling men. He is therefore recommended for retention and promotion.”
“That’s all, Dolores. Thanks.”
“Yes, Mr. Gaines!”
“I’m off for a showdown. Keep your fingers crossed.”
“But Mr. Gaines-” Back in Fresno, Dolores stared wide-eyed at an empty screen.
“Take me to Mr. Van Kleeck!”
The man addressed took his gun out of Gaines’ ribs – reluctantly, Gaines thought – and indicated that the Chief Engineer should precede him up the stairs. Gaines climbed out of the car, and complied.
Van Kleeck had set himself up in the sector control room proper, rather than the administrative office. With him were half a dozen men, all armed.
“Good evening, Director Van Kleeck.” The little man swelled visibly at Gaines’ acknowledgment of his assumed rank.
“We don’t go in much around here for titles,” he said, with ostentatious casualness. “Just call me Van. Sit down, Gaines.”
Gaines did so. It was necessary to get those other men out. He looked at them with an expression of bored amusement. “Can’t you handle one unarmed man by yourself, Van? Or don’t the functionalists trust each other?”
Van Kleeck’s face showed his annoyance, but Gaines’ smile was undaunted. Finally the smaller man picked up a pistol from his desk, and motioned toward the door. “Get out, you guys!”
“But Van-”
“Get out, I said!”
When they were alone, Van Kleeck picked up the electric push button which Gaines had seen in the visor screen, and pointed his pistol at his former chief. “O.K.,” he growled, “try any funny stuff, and off it goes! What’s your proposition?”
Gaines’ irritating smile grew broader. Van Kleeck scowled. “What’s so damn funny?” he said.
Gaines granted him an answer. “You are, Van – honest, this is rich. You start a functionalist revolution, and the only function you can think of to perform is to blow up the road that justifies your title. Tell me,” he went on, “what is it you are so scared of?”