It was a comfortable suite of rooms, deep underground, riginally built for the Secretary of Justice as a blast shelter during the previous Acquataine-Kerak war.
“You’re certainly well guarded,” the old man said to Odal as he entered.
The Kerak major had been sitting on a plush lounge, listening to a music tape. He flicked the music silent and rose as Leoh walked into the room. The outside door clicked shut behind the scientists.
“I’m being protected, they tell me,” said Odal, “both from the Acquatainian populace and from the Kerak embassy.”
“Are they treating you well?” Leoh asked as he sat, uninvited, on an easy chair next to the lounge.
“Well enough. I have music, tri-di, food and drink.” Odal’s voice had a ring of irony in it. “I’m even allowed to see the sun once a day, when I get my prison-yard exercise.”
As Odal sat back in the lounge, Leoh looked closely at him. He seemed different. No more icy smile and haughty manner. There were lines in his face that had been put there by pain, but not by pain alone. Disillusionment, perhaps. The world was no longer his personal arena of triumph. Leoh thought. He’s settled down to the same business that haunts us aU: survival.
Aloud, he said, “Sir Harold Spencer has been in touch with your Foreign Minister, Romis.”
Odal kept his face blank, noncommittal.
“Harold has asked me to speak with you, to find out where you stand in all of this. The situation is quite confused.”
“It seems simple to me,” Odal said. “You have me. Romis has Hector.”
“Yes, but where do we go from here? Is Kanus going to attack Acquatainia? Is Romis going to try to overthrow Kanus? Harold has been trying to avert a war, but if anything happens to Hector, he’ll swoop in with every