Double Star

Nine

Rog and Gill I found chewing their nails in Bonforte's upper living room. The second I showed up Corpsman started toward me. «Where the hell have you been?»

«With the Emperor,» I answered coldly.

«You've been gone five or six times as long as you should have been.»

I did not bother to answer. Since the argument over the speech Corpsman and I had gotten along together and worked together, but it was strictly a marriage of convenience, with no love. We co-operated, but we did not really bury the hatchet — unless it was between my shoulder blades. I had made no special effort to conciliate him and saw no reason why I should — in my opinion his parents had met briefly at a masquerade ball.

I don't believe in rowing with other members of the company, but the only behavior Corpsman would willingly accept from me was that of a servant, hat in hand and very `umble, sir. I would not give him that, even to keep peace. I was a professional, retained to do a very difficult professional job, and professional men do not use the back stairs; they are treated with respect.

So I ignored him and asked Rog, «Where's Penny?»

«With him . So are Dak and Doc, at the moment.»

«He's here?»

«Yes.» Clifton hesitated. «We put him in what is supposed to be the wife's room of your bedroom suite. It was the only place where we could maintain utter privacy and still give him the care he needs. I hope you don't mind.»

«Not at all.»

«It won't inconvenience you. The two bedrooms are joined, you may have noticed, only through the dressing rooms, and we've shut off that door. It's soundproof.»

«Sounds like a good arrangement. How is he?»

Clifton frowned. «Better, much better — on the whole. He is lucid much of the time.» He hesitated. «You can go in and see him, if you like.»

I hesitated still longer. «How soon does Dr. Capek think he will be ready to make public appearances?»

«It's hard to say. Before long.»

«How long? Three or four days? A short enough time that we could cancel all appointments and just put me out of sight? Rog, I don't know just how to make this clear but, much as I would like to call on him and pay my respects, I don't think it is smart for me to see him at all until after I have made my last appearance. It might well ruin my characterization.» I had made the terrible mistake of going to my father's funeral; for years thereafter when I thought of him I saw him dead in his coffin. Only very slowly did I regain the true image of him — the virile, dominant man who had reared me with a firm hand and taught me my trade. I was afraid of something like that with Bonforte; I was now impersonating a well man at the height of his powers, the way I had seen him and heard him in the many stereo records of him. I was very much afraid that if I saw him ill, the recollection of it would blur and distort my performance.

«I was not insisting,» Clifton answered. «You know best. It's possible that we can keep from having you appear in public again, but I want to keep you standing by and ready until he is fully recovered.»

I almost said that the Emperor wanted it done that way. But I caught myself — the shock of having the Emperor find me out had shaken me a little out of character. But the thought reminded me of unfinished business. I took out the revised cabinet list and handed it to Corpsman. «Here's the approved roster for the news services, Bill. You'll see that there is one change on it — De la Torre for Braun.»

«What?»

«Jesus de la Torre for Lothar Braun. That's the way the Emperor wanted it.»

Clifton looked astonished; Corpsman looked both astonished and angry. «What difference does that make? He's got no goddamn right to have opinions!»

Clifton said slowly, «Bill is right, Chief. As a lawyer who has specialized in constitutional law I assure you that the sovereign's confirmation is purely nominal. You should not have let him make any changes.»

I felt like shouting at them, and only the imposed calm personality of Bonforte kept me from it. I had had a hard day and, despite a brilliant performance, the inevitable disaster had overtaken me. I wanted to tell Rog that if Willem had not been a really big man, kingly in the fine sense of the word, we would all be in the soup — simply because I had not been adequately coached for the role. Instead I answered sourly, «It's done and that's that.»

Corpsman said, «That's what you think! I gave out the correct list to the reporters two hours ago. Now you've got to go back and straighten it out. Rog, you had better call the Palace right away and — »

I said, «Quiet!»

Corpsman shut up. I went on in a lower key. «Rog, from a legal point of view, you may be right. I wouldn't know. I do know that the Emperor felt free to question the appointment of Braun. Now if either one of you wants to go to the Emperor and argue with him, that's up to you. But I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to get out of this anachronistic strait jacket, take my shoes off, and have a long, tall drink. Then I'm going to bed.»

«Now wait, Chief.» Clifton objected. «You've got a five-minute spot on grand network to announce the new cabinet.»

You take it. You're first deputy in this cabinet.»

He blinked. «All right.»

Corpsman said insistently, «How about Braun? He was promised the job.»

Clifton looked at him thoughtfully. «Not in any dispatch that I saw, Bill. He was simply asked if he was willing to serve, like all the others. Is that what you meant?»

Corpsman hesitated like an actor not quite sure of his lines. «Of course. But it amounts to a promise.»

«Not until the public announcement is made, it doesn't.»

«But the announcement was made, I tell you. Two hours ago.»

«Mmm ... Bill, I'm afraid that you will have to call the boys in again and tell them that you made a mistake. Or I'll call them in and tell them that through an error a preliminary list was handed out before Mr. Bonforte had okayed it. But we've got to correct it before the grand network announcement.»

«Do you mean to tell me you are going to let him get away with it?»

By «him» I think Bill meant me rather than Willem, but Rog's answer assumed the contrary. «Yes. Bill, this is no time to force a constitutional crisis. The issue isn't worth it. So will you phrase the retraction? Or shall I?»

Corpsman's expression reminded me of the way a cat submits to the inevitable — «just barely.» He looked grim, shrugged, and said, «I'll do it. I want to be damned sure it is phrased properly, so we can salvage as much as possible out of the shambles.»

«Thanks, Bill,» Rog answered mildly.

Corpsman turned to leave. I called out, «Bill! As long as you are going to be talking to the news service I have another announcement for them.»

«Huh? What are you after now?»

«Nothing much.» The fact was I was suddenly overcome with weariness at the role and tensions it created. «Just tell them that Mr. Bonforte has a cold and his physician has ordered him to bed for a rest. I've had a bellyfull.»

Corpsman snorted. «I think I'll make it “pneumonia.”»

«Suit yourself.»

When he had gone Rog turned to me and said, «Don't let it get you, Chief. In this business some days are better than others.»

«Rog, I really am going on the sick list. You can mention it on stereo tonight.»

«So?»

«I'm going to take to my bed and stay there. There is no reason at all why Bonforte can't “have a cold” until he is ready to get back into harness himself. Every time I make an appearance it just increases the probability that somebody will spot something wrong — and every time I do make an appearance that sorehead Corpsman finds something to yap about. An artist can't do his best work with somebody continually snarling at him. So let's let it go at this and ring down the curtain.»

«Take it easy, Chief. I'll keep Corpsman out of your hair from now on. Here we won't be in each other's laps the way we were in the ship.»

«No, Rog, my mind is made up. Oh, I won't run out on you. I'll stay here until Mr. B. is able to see people, in case some utter emergency turns up» — I was recalling uneasily that the Emperor had told me to hang on and had assumed that I would — «but it is actually better to keep me out of sight. At the moment we have gotten away with it completely, haven't we? Oh,they know — somebody knows — that Bonforte was not the man who went through the adoption ceremony — but they don't dare raise that issue, nor could they prove it if they did. The same people may suspect that a double was used today, but they don't know, they can't be sure — because it is always possible that Bonforte recovered quickly enough to carry if off today. Right?»

Clifton got an odd, half-sheepish look on his face. «I'm afraid they are fairly sure you were a double, Chief.»

«Eh?»

«We shaded the truth a little to keep from being nervous. Doc Capek was certain from the time he first examined him that only a miracle could get him in shape to make the audience today. The people who dosed him would know that too.»

I frowned. «Then you were kidding me earlier when you told me how well he was doing? How is he, Rog? Tell me the truth.»

«I was telling you the truth that time, Chief. That's why I suggested that you see him — whereas before I was only too glad to string along with your reluctance to see him.» He added, «Perhaps you had better see him, talk with him.»

«Mmmm — no.» The reasons for not seeing him still applied; if I did have to make another appearance I did not want my subconscious playing me tricks. The role called for a well man. «But, Rog, everything I said applies still more emphatically on the basis of what you have just told me. If they are even reasonably sure that a double was used today, then we don't dare risk another appearance. They were caught by surprise today — or perhaps it was impossible to unmask me, under the circumstances. But it will not be later. They can rig some deadfall, some test that I can't pass — then blooey! There goes the old ball game.» I thought about it. «I had better be “sick” as long as necessary. Bill was right; it had better be “pneumonia.”»

Such is the power of suggestion that I woke up the next morning with a stopped-up nose and a sore throat. Dr. Capek took time to dose me and I felt almost human by suppertime; nevertheless, he issued bulletins about «Mr. Bonforte's virus infection.» The sealed and air-conditioned cities of the Moon being what they are, nobody was anxious to be exposed to an airvectored ailment; no determined effort was made to get past my chaperones. For four days I loafed and read from Bonforte's library, both his own collected papers and his many books ... I discovered that both politics and economics could make engrossing reading; those subjects had never been real to me before. The Emperor sent me flowers from the royal greenhouse — or were they for me?

Never mind. I loafed and soaked in the luxury of being Lorenzo, or even plain Lawrence Smith. I found that I dropped back into character automatically if someone came in, but I can't help that. It was not necessary; I saw no one but Penny and Capek, except for one visit from Dak.

But even lotus-eating can pall. By the fourth day I was as tired of that room as I had ever been of a producer's waiting room and I was lonely. No one bothered with me; Capek's visits had been brisk and professional, and Penny's visits had been short and few. She had stopped calling me «Mr. Bonforte.»

When Dak showed up I was delighted to see him. «Dak! What's new?»

«Not much. I've been trying to get the Tommie overhauled with one hand while helping Rog with political chores with the other. Getting this campaign lined up is going to give him ulcers, three gets you eight.» He sat down. «Politics!»

«Hmm ... Dak, how did you ever get into it? Offhand, I would figure voyageurs to be as unpolitical as actors. And you in particular.»

«They are and they aren't. Most ways they don't give a damn whether school keeps or not, as long as they can keep on herding junk through the sky. But to do that you've got to have cargo, and cargo means trade, and profitable trade means wide-open trade, with any ship free to go anywhere, no customs nonsense and no restricted areas. Freedom! And there you are; you're in politics. As for myself, I came here first for a spot of lobbying for the “continuous voyage” rule, so that goods on the triangular trade would not pay two duties. It was Mr. B.'s bill, of course. One thing led to another and here I am, skipper of his yacht the past six years and representing my guild brothers since the last general election.» He sighed. «I hardly know how it happened myself.»

«I suppose you are anxious to get out of it. Are you going to stand for re-election?»

He stared at me. «Huh? Brother, until you've been in politics you haven't been alive.»

«But you said — »

«I know what I said. It's rough and sometimes it's dirty and it's always hard work and tedious details. But it's the only sport for grownups. All other games are for kids. All of `em.» He stood up. «Gotta run.»

«Oh, stick around.»

«Can't. With the Grand Assembly convening tomorrow I've got to give Rog a hand. I shouldn't have stopped in at all.»

«It is? I didn't know.» I was aware that the G.A., the outgoing G.A. that is, had to meet one more time, to accept the caretaker cabinet. But I had not thought about it. It was a routine matter, as perfunctory as presenting the list to the Emperor. «Is he going to be able to make it?»

«No. But don't you worry about it. Rog will apologize to the house for your — I mean his absence and will ask for a proxy rule under no-objection procedure. Then he will read the speech of the Supreme Minister Designate — Bill is working on it right now. Then in his own person he will move that the government be confirmed. Second. No debate. Pass. Adjourn sine die — and everybody rushes for home and starts promising the voters two women in every bed and a hundred Imperials every Monday morning. Routine.» He added, «Oh, yes! Some member of the Humanity Party will move a resolution of sympathy and a basket of flowers, which will pass in a fine hypocritical glow. They'd rather send flowers to Bonforte's funeral.» He scowled.

«It is actually as simple as that? What would happen if the proxy rule were refused? I thought the Grand Assembly didn't recognize proxies.»

«They don't, for all ordinary procedure. You either pair, or you show up and vote. But this is just the idler wheels going around in parliamentary machinery. If they don't let him appear by proxy tomorrow, then they've got to wait around until he is well before they can adjourn sine die and get on with the serious business of hypnotizing the voters. As it is, a mock quorum has been meeting daily and adjourning ever since Quiroga resigned. This Assembly is as dead as Caesar's ghost, but it has to be buried constitutionally.»

«Yes — but suppose some idiot did object?»

«No one will. Oh, it could force a constitutional crisis. But it won't happen.»

Neither one of us said anything for a while. Dak made no move to leave. «Dak, would it make things easier if I showed up and gave that speech?»

«Huh? Shucks, I thought that was settled. You decided that it wasn't safe to risk another appearance short of an utter save-the-baby emergency. On the whole, I agree with you. There's the old saw about the pitcher and the well.»

«Yes. But this is just a walk-through, isn't it? Lines as fixed as a play? Would there be any chance of anyone pulling any surprises on me that I couldn't handle?»

«Well, no. Ordinarily you would be expected to talk to the press afterwards, but your recent illness is an excuse. We could slide you through the security tunnel and avoid them entirely.» He smiled grimly. «Of course, there is always the chance that some crackpot in the visitors' gallery has managed to sneak in a gun ... Mr. B. always referred to it as the “shooting gallery” after they winged him from it.»

My leg gave a sudden twinge. «Are you trying to scare me off?»

«No.»

«You pick a funny way to encourage me. Dak, be level with me. Do you want me to do this job tomorrow? Or don't you?»

«Of course I do! Why the devil do you think I stopped in on a busy day? Just to chat?»

The Speaker pro tempore banged his gavel, the chaplain gave an invocation that carefully avoided any differences between one religion and another — and everyone kept silent. The seats themselves were only half filled but the gallery was packed with tourists.

We heard the ceremonial knocking amplified over the speaker system; the Sergeant at Arms rushed the mace to the door. Three times the Emperor demanded to be admitted, three times he was refused. Then he prayed the privilege; it was granted by acclamation. We stood while Willem entered and took his seat back of the Speaker's desk. He was in uniform as Admiral General and was unattended, as was required, save by escort of the Speaker and the Sergeant at Arms.

Then I tucked my wand under my arm and stood up at my place at the front bench and, addressing the Speaker as if the sovereign were not present, I delivered my speech. It was not the one Corpsman had written; that one went down the oubliette as soon as I had read it. Bill had made it a straight campaign speech, and it was the wrong time and place.

Mine was short, non-partisan, and cribbed right straight out of Bonforte's collected writings, a paraphrase of the one the time before when he formed a caretaker government. I stood foursquare for good roads and good weather and wished that everybody would love everybody else, just the way all us good democrats loved our sovereign and he loved us. It was a blankverse lyric poem of about five hundred words and if I varied from Bonforte's earlier speech then I simply went up on my lines.

They had to quiet the gallery.

Rog got up and moved that the names I had mentioned in passing be confirmed — second and no objection — and the clerk cast a white ballot. As I marched forward, attended by one member of my own party and one member of the opposition, I could see members glancing at their watches and wondering if they could still catch the noon shuttle.

Then I was swearing allegiance to my sovereign, under and subject to the constitutional limitations, swearing to defend and continue the rights and privileges of the Grand Assembly, and to protect the freedoms of the citizens of the Empire wherever they might be — and incidentally to carry out the duties of His Majesty's Supreme Minister. The chaplain mixed up the words once, but I straightened him out.

I thought I was breezing through it as easy as a curtain speech — when I found that I was crying so hard that I could hardly see. When I was done, Willem said quietly to me, «A good performance, Joseph.» I don't know whether he thought he was talking to me or to his old friend — and I did not care. I did not wipe away the tears; I just let them drip as I turned back to the Assembly. I waited for Willem to leave, then adjourned them.

Diana, Ltd., ran four extra shuttles that afternoon. New Batavia was deserted — that is to say there were only the court and a million or so butchers, bakers, candlestick makers, and civil servants left in town — and a skeleton cabinet.

Having gotten over my «cold» and appeared publicly in the Grand Assembly Hall, it no longer made sense to hide out. As the supposed Supreme Minister I could not, without causing comment, never be seen; as the nominal head of a political party entering a campaign for a general election I had to see people — some people, at least. So I did what I had to do and got a daily report on Bonforte's progress toward complete recovery. His progress was good, if slow; Capek reported that it was possible, if absolutely necessary, to let him appear any time now — but he advised against it; he had lost almost twenty pounds and his co-ordination was poor.

Rog did everything possible to protect both of us. Mr. Bonforte knew now that they were using a double for him and, after a first fit of indignation, had relaxed to necessity and approved it. Rog ran the campaign, consulting him only on matters of high policy, and then passing on his answers to me to hand out publicly when necessary.

But the protection given me was almost as great; I was as hard to see as a topflight agent. My office ran on into the mountain beyond the opposition leader's apartments (we did not move over into the Supreme Minister's more palatial quarters; while it would have been legal, it just «was not done» during a caretaker regime) — they could be reached from the rear directly from the lower living room, but to get at me from the public entrance a man had to pass about five check points — except for the favored few who were conducted directly by Rog through a bypass tunnel to Penny's office and from there into mine.

The setup meant that I could study the Farleyfile on anyone before he got to see me. I could even keep it in front of me while he was with me, for the desk had a recessed viewer the visitor could not see, yet I could wipe it out instantly if he turned out to be a floor pacer. The viewer had other uses; Rog could give a visitor the special treatment, rushing him right in to see me, leave him alone with me — and stop in Penny's office and write me a note, which would then be projected on the viewer — such quick tips as, «Kiss him to death and promise nothing,» or, «All he really wants is for his wife to be presented at court. Promise him that and get rid of him,» or even, «Easy on this one. It's a “swing” district and he is smarter than he looks. Turn him over to me and I'll dicker.»

I don't know who ran the government. The senior career men, probably. There would be a stack of papers on my desk each morning, I would sign Bonforte's sloppy signature to them, and Penny would take them away. I never had time to read them. The very size of the Imperial machinery dismayed me. Once when we had to attend a meeting outside the offices, Penny had led me on what she called a short cut through the Archives — miles on miles of endless files, each one chockablock with microfilm and all of them with moving belts scooting past them so that a clerk would not take all day to fetch one file.

But Penny told me that she had taken me through only one wing of it. The file of the files, she said, occupied a cavern the size of the Grand Assembly Hall. It made me glad that government was not a career with me, but merely a passing hobby, so to speak.

Seeing people was an unavoidable chore, largely useless since Rog, or Bonforte through Rog, made the decisions. My real job was to make campaign speeches. A discreet rumor had been spread that my doctor had been afraid that my heart had been strained by the «virus infection» and had advised me to stay in the low gravity of the Moon throughout the campaign. I did not dare risk taking the impersonation on a tour of Earth, much less make a trip to Venus; the Farleyfile system would break down if I attempted to mix with crowds, not to mention the unknown hazards of the Actionist goon squads — what I would babble with a minim dose of neodexocaine in the forebrain none of us liked to think about, me least of all.

Quiroga was hitting all continents on Earth, making his stereo appearances as personal appearances on platforms in front of crowds. But it did not worry Rog Clifton. He shrugged and said, «Let him. There was no new votes to be picked up by personal appearances at political rallies. All it does is wear out the speaker. Those rallies are attended only by the faithful.»

I hoped that he knew what he was talking about. The campaign was short, only six weeks from Quiroga's resignation to the day he had set for the election before resigning, and I was speaking almost every day, either on a grand network with time shared precisely with the Humanity Party, or speeches canned and sent by shuttle for later release to particular audiences. We had a set routine; a draft would come to me, perhaps from Bill although I never saw him, and then I would rework it. Rog would take the revised draft away; usually it would come back approved — and once in a while there would be corrections made in Bonforte's handwriting, now so sloppy as to be almost illegible.

I never ad-libbed at all on those parts he corrected, though I often did on the rest — when you get rolling there is often a better, more alive way to say a thing. I began to notice the nature of his corrections; they were almost always eliminations of qualifiers — make it blunter, let `em like it or lump it!

After a while there were fewer corrections. I was getting with it.

I still never saw him. I felt that I could not «wear his head» if I looked at him on his sickbed. But I was not the only one of his intimate family who was not seeing him; Capek had chucked Penny out — for her own good. I did not know it at the time. I did know that Penny had become irritable, absent-minded, and moody after we reached New Batavia. She got circles under her eyes like a raccoon — all of which I could not miss, but I attributed it to the pressure of the campaign combined with worry about Bonforte's health. I was only partly right. Capek spotted it and took action, put her under light hypnosis and asked her questions — then he flatly forbade her to see Bonforte again until I was done and finished and shipped away.

The poor girl was going almost out of her mind from visiting the sickroom of the man she hopelessly loved — then going straight in to work closely with a man who looked and talked and sounded just like him, but in good health. She was probably beginning to hate me.

Good old Doc Capek got at the root of her trouble, gave her helpful and soothing post-hypnotic suggestions, and kept her out of the sick room after that. Naturally I was not told about it at the time; it wasn't any of my business. But Penny perked up and again was her lovable, incredibly efficient self.

It made a lot of difference to me. Let's admit it; at least twice I would have walked out on the whole incredible rat race if it had not been for Penny.

There was one sort of meeting I had to attend, that of the campaign executive committee. Since the Expansionist Party was a minority party, being merely the largest fraction of a coalition of several parties held together by the leadership and personality of John Joseph Bonforte, I had to stand in for him and peddle soothing syrup to those prima donnas. I was briefed for it with painstaking care, and Rog sat beside me and could hint the proper direction if I faltered. But it could not be delegated.

Less than two weeks before election day we were due for a meeting at which the safe districts would be parceled out. The organization always had thirty to forty districts which could be used to make someone eligible for cabinet office, or to provide for a political secretary (a person like Penny was much more valuable if he or she was fully qualified, able to move and speak on the floor of the Assembly, had the right to be present at closed caucuses, and so forth), or for other party reasons. Bonforte himself represented a «safe» district; it relieved him from the necessity of precinct campaigning. Clifton had another. Dak would have had one if he had needed it, but he actually commanded the support of his guild brethren. Rog even hinted to me once that if I wanted to come back in my proper person, I could say the word and my name would go on the next list.

Some of the spots were always saved for party wheel horses willing to resign at a moment's notice and thereby provide the Party with a place through a by-election if it proved necessary to qualify a man for cabinet office, or something.

But the whole thing had somewhat the flavor of patronage and, the coalition being what it was, it was necessary for Bonforte to straighten out conflicting claims and submit a list to the campaign executive committee. It was a last-minute job, to be done just before the ballots were prepared, to allow for late changes.

When Rog and Dak came in I was working on a speech and had told Penny to hold off anything but five-alarm fires. Quiroga had made a wild statement in Sydney, Australia, the night before, of such a nature that we could expose the lie and make him squirm. I was trying my hand at a speech in answer, without waiting for a draft to be handed me; I had high hopes of getting my own version approved.

When they came in I said, «Listen to this,» and read them the key paragraph. «How do you like it?»

«That ought to nail his hide to the door,» agreed Rog. «Here's the “safe” list, Chief. Want to look it over? We're due there in twenty minutes.»

«Oh, that damned meeting. I don't see why I should look at the list. Anything you want to tell me about it?» Nevertheless, I took the list and glanced down it. I knew them all from their Farleyfiles and a few of them from contact; I knew already why each one had to be taken care of.

Then I struck the name:Corpsman, William J.

I fought down what I felt was justifiable annoyance and said quietly, «I see Bill is on the list, Rob.»

«Oh, yes. I wanted to tell you about that. You see, Chief, as we all know, there has been a certain amount of bad blood between you and Bill. Now I'm not blaming you; it's been Bill's fault. But there are always two sides. What you may not have realized is that Bill has been carrying around a tremendous inferiority feeling; it gives him a chip on the shoulder. This will fix it up.»

«So?»

«Yes. It is what he has always wanted. You see, the rest of us all have official status, we're members of the G.A., I mean. I'm talking about those who work closely around, uh,you. Bill feels it. I've heard him say, after the third drink, that he was just a hired man. He's bitter about it. You don't mind, do you? The Party can afford it and it's an easy price to pay for elimination of friction at headquarters.»

I had myself under full control by now. «It's none of my business. Why should I mind, if that is what Mr. Bonforte wants?»

I caught just a flicker of a glance from Dak to Clifton. I added, «That is what Mr. B. wants? Isn't it, Rog?»

Dak said harshly, «Tell him, Rog.»

Rog said slowly, «Dak and I whipped this up ourselves. We think it is for the best.»

«Then Mr. Bonforte did not approve it? You asked him, surely?»

«No, we didn't.»

«Why not?»

«Chief, this is not the sort of thing to bother him with. He's a tired, old, sick man. I have not been worrying him with anything less than major policy decisions — which this isn't. It is a district we command no matter who stands for it.»

«Then why ask my opinion about it at all?»

«Well, we felt you should know — and know why. We think you ought to approve it.»

«Me? You're asking me for a decision as if I were Mr. Bonforte. I'm not.» I tapped the desk in his nervous gesture. «Either this decision is at his level, and you should ask him — or it's not, and you should never have asked me.»

Rog chewed his cigar, then said, «All right, I'm not asking you.»

«No!»

«What do you mean?»

«I mean “No!” You did ask me; therefore there is doubt in your mind. So if you expect me to present that name to the committee — as if I were Bonforte — then go in and ask him.»

They both sat and said nothing. Finally Dak sighed and said, «Tell the rest, Rog. Or I will.»

I waited. Clifton took his cigar out of his mouth and said, «Chief, Mr. Bonforte had a stroke four days ago. He's in no shape to be disturbed.»

I held still, and recited to myself all of “the cloudcapp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,” and so forth. When I was back in shape I said, «How is his mind?»

«His mind seems clear enough, but he is terribly tired. That week as a prisoner was more of an ordeal than we realized. The stroke left him in a coma for twenty-four hours. He's out of it now, but the left side of his face is paralyzed and his entire left side is partly out of service.»

«Uh, what does Dr. Capek say?»

«He thinks that as the clot clears up, you'll never be able to tell the difference. But he'll have to take it easier than he used to. But, Chief, right now he is ill. We'll just have to carry on through the balance of the campaign without him.»

I felt a ghost of the lost feeling I had had when my father died. I had never seen Bonforte, I had had nothing from him but a few scrawled corrections on typescript. But I leaned on him all the way. The fact that he was in that room next door had made the whole thing possible.

I took a long breath, let it out, and said, «Okay, Rog. We'll have to.»

«Yes, Chief.» He stood up. «We've got to get over to that meeting. How about that?» He nodded toward the safe-districts list.

«Oh.» I tried to think. Maybe it was possible that Bonforte would reward Bill with the privilege of calling himself «the Honorable,» just to keep him happy. He wasn't small about such things; he did not bind the mouths of the kine who tread the grain. In one of his essays on politics he had said, «I am not an intellectual man. If I have any special talent, it lies in picking men of ability and letting them work.»

«How long has Bill been with him?» I asked suddenly.

«Eh? About four years. A little over.»

Bonforte evidently had liked his work. «That's past one general election, isn't it? Why didn't he make him an Assemblyman then?»

«Why, I don't know. The matter never came up.»

'When was Penny put in?»

«About three years ago. A by-election.»

«There's your answer, Rog.»

«I don't follow you.»

«Bonforte could have made Bill a Grand Assemblyman at any time. He didn't choose to. Change that nomination to a “resigner.” Then if Mr. Bonforte wants Bill to have it, he can arrange a by-election for him later — when he's feeling himself.»

Clifton showed no expression. He simply picked up the list and said, «Very well, Chief.»

Later that same day Bill quit. I suppose Rog had to tell him that his arm-twisting had not worked. But when Rog told me about it I felt sick, realizing that my stiff-necked attitude had us all in acute danger. I told him so. He shook his head.

«But he knows it all! It was his scheme from the start. Look at the load of dirt he can haul over to the Humanity camp.»

«Forget it, Chief. Bill may be a louse — I've no use for a man who will quit in the middle of a campaign; you just don't do that, ever. But he is not a rat. In his profession you don't spill a client's secrets, even if you fall out with him.»

«I hope you are right.»

«You'll see. Don't worry about it. Just get on with the job.»

As the next few days passed I came to the conclusion that Rog knew Bill better than I did. We heard nothing from him or about him and the campaign went ahead as usual, getting rougher all the time, but with not a peep to show that our giant hoax was compromised. I began to feel better and buckled down to making the best Bonforte speeches I could manage — sometimes with Rog's help; sometimes just with his okay. Mr. Bonforte was steadily improving again, but Capek had him on absolute quiet.

Rog had to go to Earth during the last week; there are types of fence-mending that simply can't be done by remote control. After all, votes come from the precincts and the field managers count for more than the speechmakers. But speeches still had to be made and press conferences given; I carried on, with Dak and Penny at my elbow — of course I was much more closely with it now; most questions I could answer without stopping to think.

There was the usual twice-weekly press conference in the offices the day Rog was due back. I had been hoping that he would be back in time for it, but there was no reason I could not take it alone. Penny walked in ahead of me, carrying her gear; I heard her gasp.

I saw then that Bill was at the far end of the table.

But I looked around the room as usual and said, «Good morning, gentlemen.»

«Good morning, Mr. Minister!» most of them answered.

I added, «Good morning, Bill. Didn't know you were here. Whom are you representing?»

They gave him dead silence to reply. Every one of them knew that Bill had quit us — or had been fired. He grinned at me, and answered, «Good morning,Mister Bonforte. I'm with the Krein Syndicate.»

I knew it was coming then; I tried not to give him the satisfaction of letting it show. «A fine outfit. I hope they are paying you what you are worth. Now to business — The written questions first. You have them, Penny?»

I went rapidly through the written questions, giving out answers I had already had time to think over, then sat back as usual and said, «We have time to bat it around a bit, gentlemen. Any other questions?»

There were several. I was forced to answer «No comment» only once — an answer Bonforte preferred to an ambiguous one. Finally I glanced at my watch and said, «That will be all this morning, gentlemen,» and started to stand up.

«Smythe!» Bill shouted.

I kept right on getting to my feet, did not look toward him.

«I mean you, Mr. Phony Bonforte-Smythe!» he went on angrily, raising his voice still more.

This time I did look at him, with astonishment — just the amount appropriate, I think, to an important official subjected to rudeness under unlikely conditions. Bill was pointing at me and his face was red. «You imposter! You small-time actor! You fraud!»

The London Times man on my right said quietly, «Do you want me to call the guard, sir?»

I said, «No. He's harmless.»

Bill laughed. «So I'm harmless, huh? You'll find out.»

«I really think I should, sir,» the Times man insisted.

«No.» I then said sharply, «That's enough, Bill. You had better leave quietly.»

«Don't you wish I would?» He started spewing forth the basic story, talking rapidly. He made no mention of the kidnapping and did not mention his own part in the hoax, but implied that he had left us rather than be mixed up in any such swindle. The impersonation was attributed, correctly as far as it went, to illness on the part of Bonforte — with a strong hint that we might have doped him.

I listened patiently. Most of the reporters simply listened at first, with that stunned expression of outsiders exposed unwillingly to a vicious family argument. Then some of them started scribbling or dictating into minicorders.

When he stopped I said, «Are you through, Bill?»

«That's enough, isn't it?»

«More than enough. I'm sorry, Bill. That's all, gentlemen. I must get back to work.»

«Just a moment, Mr. Minister!» someone called out. «Do you want to issue a denial?» Someone else added, «Are you going to sue?»

I answered the latter question first. «No, I shan't sue. One doesn't sue a sick man.»

«Sick, am I?» shouted Bill.

«Quiet down, Bill. As for issuing a denial, I hardly think it is called for. However, I see that some of you have been taking notes. While I doubt if any of your publishers would run this story, if they do, this anecdote may add something to it. Did you ever hear of the professor who spent forty years of his life proving that the Odyssey was not written by Homer — but by another Greek of the same name?»

It got a polite laugh. I smiled and started to turn away again. Bill came rushing around the table and grabbed at my arm. «You can't laugh it off!» The Times man — Mr. Ackroyd, it was — pulled him away from me.

I said, «Thank you, sir.» Then to Corpsman I added, «What do you want me to do, Bill? I've tried to avoid having you arrested.»

«Call the guards if you like, you phony! We'll see who stays in jail longest!Wait until they take your fingerprints!»

I sighed and made the understatement of my life. «This is ceasing to be a joke. Gentlemen, I think I had better put an end to this. Penny my dear, will you please have someone send in fingerprinting equipment?» I knew I was sunk — but, damn it, if you are caught by the Birkenhead Drill, the least you owe yourself is to stand at attention while the ship goes down. Even a villain should make a good exit.

Bill did not wait. He grabbed the water glass that had been sitting in front of me; I had handled it several times. «The hell with that! This will do.»

«I've told you before, Bill, to mind your language in the presence of ladies. But you may keep the glass.»

«You're bloody well right I'll keep it.»

«Very well. Please leave. If not, I'll be forced to summon the guard.»

He walked out. Nobody said anything. I said, «May I provide fingerprints for any of the rest of you?»

Ackroyd said hastily, «Oh, I'm sure we don't want them, Mr. Minister.»

«Oh, by all means! If there is a story in this, you'll want to be covered.» I insisted because it was in character — and in the second and third place, you can't be a little bit pregnant, or slightly unmasked — and I did not want my friends present to be scooped by Bill; it was the last thing I could do for them.

We did not have to send for formal equipment. Penny had carbon sheets and someone had one of those lifetime memo pads with plastic sheets, they took prints nicely. Then I said good morning and left.

We got as far as Penny's private office; once inside she fainted dead. I carried her into my office, laid her on the couch, then sat down at my desk and simply shook for several minutes.

Neither one of us was worth much the rest of the day. We carried on as usual except that Penny brushed off all callers, claiming excuses of some sort. I was due to make a speech that night and thought seriously of canceling it. But I left the news turned on all day and there was not a word about the incident of that morning. I realized that they were checking the prints before risking it — after all, I was supposed to be His Imperial Majesty's first minister; they would want confirmation. So I decided to make the speech since I had already written it and the time was scheduled. I couldn't even consult Dak; he was away in Tycho City.

It was the best one I had made. I put into it the same stuff a comic uses to quiet a panic in a burning theater. After the pickup was dead I just sunk my face in my hands and wept, while Penny patted my shoulder. We had not discussed the horrible mess at all.

Rog grounded at twenty hundred Greenwich, about as I finished, and checked in with me as soon as he was back. In a dull monotone I told him the whole dirty story; he listened, chewing on a dead cigar, his face expressionless.

At the end I said almost pleadingly, «I had to give the fingerprints, Rog. You see that, don't you? To refuse would not have been in character.»

Rog said, «Don't worry.»

«Huh?»

«I said, “Don't worry.” When the reports on those prints come back from the Identification Bureau at The Hague, you are in for a small but pleasant surprise — and our ex-friend Bill is in for a much bigger one, but not pleasant. If he has collected any of his blood money in advance, they will probably take it out of his hide. I hope they do.»

I could not mistake what he meant. «Oh! But, Rog — they won't stop there. There are a dozen other places. Social Security ... Uh, lots of places.»

«You think perhaps we were not thorough? Chief, I knew this could happen, one way or another. From the moment Dak sent word to complete Plan Mardi Gras, the necessary coverup started. Everywhere. But I didn't think it necessary to tell Bill.» He sucked on his dead cigar, took it out of his mouth, and looked at it. «Poor Bill.»

Penny sighed softly and fainted again.