Foundation and Chaos

43.

Wanda Seldon Palver had almost finished packing the small travel case with essential bookfilms, coded records on disk and cube, and a few personal items, even before Stettin returned to their home. She met his worried gaze with a defiant frown, then shoved one final item, a small toy flower, into the case.

“I’ve packed for you, too,” she said.

“Good. When did you hear?”

“An hour ago. They wouldn’t let him send any messages. I called his apartment at the university, then the library. He had rigged a dead-man’s message.”

“What?” Stettin looked at her with a shocked lift of his thick black brows.

“A message for me if he didn’t check in.”

“But-but he’s not dead, you haven’t heard that…”

“No!” Wanda said angrily, then her shoulders slumped and she began to cry. Stettin took her in his arms. For a minute, she gave in to her emotions. Then, pulling herself together, she pushed back from her husband’s chest, and said, “No. They’ve come for him early, that’s all I know. He’s alive. The trial’s beginning sooner than we expected.”

“On charges of treason?”

“For treason and spreading sedition, I assume-that’s what Grandfather always said would be the charges brought against him.”

“Then you’re right to pack. I don’t have much to add.” He went to his desk and removed two small parcels, stuffed them into the pockets of his coat. “We have to-”

“I’ve made the necessary calls,” Wanda interrupted him. “We’re going on our first vacation in years, both of us, together. Nobody knows where-a minor lapse on our part.”

“A little suspicious, isn’t it?” Stettin asked with a ghost of a grin.

“Who cares what they suspect? If they start looking for us-if something goes wrong and Grandfather is found guilty, if the predictions turn out to be wrong-then we have a few extra days to leave Trantor and start over again.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” Stettin said.

“Grandfather is very confident,” Wanda said. “Was very confident-I don’t know how he feels now!”

“In the belly of the beast,” Stettin said as their apartment door opened and they stood in the corridor outside.

“What does that mean?”

“Jail. Prison. An old convicts’ phrase. My grandfather spent ten years in a municipal prison-for embezzlement.”

“You never told me that!” Wanda said, astonished.

“He stole some heatsink-guild pension funds. Would you have let me handle the bookkeeping if you had known?”

Wanda slapped his arm hard enough to sting, then jogged toward the lifts and the slideways above. “Hurry!” she called. Stettin muttered under his breath, but followed, as he had followed Wanda in so many different ways, so often before, quite aware of her superior instincts and her uncanny ability to do the right thing, at just the right time.