would-be matriarch! As soon as I’m shut of him, 1’ll1’ll . . .
Only he wouldn’t. He knew he wouldn’t. It would be as hard as curing himself of a habit like smoking or drinking.
He said mildly, “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.”
Conscious of having won the exchange, Mrs. Gleewood sniffed. “I wish you wouldn’t talk while I’m trying to watch TV l” she crowed.
And sat back, delighted with the dialogue.
Meantime, Turpin had something else on his mind. It was-in a paradoxical sense-unreal, because it had been real to him for so long
Am 1 going to be exposed?
The afternoon, and early evening until he managed to get away, which he had spent around the reserved area, had already taken on the dimensions of a dream. Because all the time and under no matter what circumstances he had grown used to behaving exactly as someone in his position was expected to, he had obviously to limit his responses to those that a genuinely loyal and committed executive of Energetics General might convincingly display when faced by a crisis of the current magnitude.
In other words, be had to act as though-whatever he might have said, for instance to Clarke–concerning the factually known political situation within the country, and hence acknowledging the jealousy between the Army and Navy, the constant jockeying for position that never ceased between the various major corporations, always hunting for a larger slice of the Defense Department cake, he had all the right, incontrovertible assumptions. Navy would never act against the country’s best interests) Corporation X, since it draws down DOD funds, must be staffed by the most loyal of directors) The Security Force, being hand-picked, is unquestionably the court of last resort, and we can safely rely on them to clear up this mess. Of course, one has to be on guard all the time because, as was shown in South-East Asia, Latin America., the Philippines, and God knows where else, the other side is subtle, devious, cunning) But far be it from ME to lose confidence in the wisdom of those who have laid down the precepts by which we live, the experts whose love of freedom has defined the degree to which we, the laymen, and our families, must sacrifice liberty to preserve it.
But at the edge of his awareness, even though he was sure he was acting exactly as he ought to in his position, he could hear what Sheklov had said-about there being alien intelligences who could and conceivably would wipe out modern civilisation. Each time he reviewed his recollection of that incredible statement, it acquired new overtones, new resonances due to his subconscious, new implications pregnant with terror.
And here 1 am being polite to a stupid old woman because 1 have to maintain my cover. Am 1 crazy?
The conviction began to grow in his mind.
Yes. Absolutely crazy.
He looked now and then out of the corner of his eye at the smugly self-satisfied Mrs. Gleewood, as though he were an executioner measuring someone in advance for a garrotte.
It fitted. It all hung together. Morton Clarke didn’t want to have to believe it, but in the end . . .
He looked, one final time, at the chart he had drawn on his notepad, linked with arrows: FENELLA CLARKE to MAGDA HANSEN to DANTY WARD to LORA TURPIN to-
No, it had to stop there. It mustn’t go onl Mustn’t) Bocause somewhere along the line, maybe three stops from now, the chain of reasoning would close, and the name would be his own: MORTON CLARKE.
It had to be broken before it was allowed to extend that far. No one could accuse him of treason.
Slowly, like a martyr hearing the call for his turn at the Colosseum, he rose from his chair and felt inside his jacket for his gun. Government issue. Got to be proved worthy of it. Immediately, before anyone else saw the connections he had just worked out.
He went into the adjacent room, where Fenella was watching Channel 8-no, correction, Channel 9, must have changed over when the commercials came on . . .
“Hi, Mort honey,” she said. “Come sit downl What you been doing all this time?”