Hellstrom's Hive

Merrivale did not like the tone of voice Peruge was using over the telephone, but he managed to conceal this fact under an even flow of reasonable responses. Peruge was angry and was not attempting to conceal it. To Merrivale, Peruge represented the one major obstacle between himself and another promotion. Merrivale thought he understood Peruge very well, but felt offended by those reactions in Peruge that spoke of the other man’s superior position in the Agency.

Merrivale had been called away from the early afternoon briefing session they had set up for the new teams being sent out to Oregon. He had left the session reluctantly, but without delay. One did not keep Peruge waiting. Peruge was one of the chosen few who had daily face-to-face contact with the Chief. He might even know the Chief’s real identity.

There was a letterknife in the form of a cavalry saber on the smooth gray blotter of Merrivale’s desk. He picked it up, pricked at the blotter with the sharp tip while he listened, gouging deeply when the conversation took a painful turn.

“That was earlier in the month, Dzule,” Merrivale said, knowing the explanation was insufficient, “and we did not know as much then as we know now.”

“What do we know now?” The question was biting and accusatory.

“We know there’s someone out there who does not hesitate to make our people just-disappear.”

“We already knew that!”

“But we had not gauged the extent of our opposition’s determination to defy us.”

“Do we have so many people that we can just waste them finding out such important facts?” Peruge demanded.

The hypocrite! Merrivale thought. Nobody has wasted more agents than Peruge! He gave me the explicit orders that cost us these teams!

Merrivale dug a deep gouge in the blotter, frowned at the disfiguration of the surface. He reminded himself to have the blotter replaced as soon as this call was completed. “Dzule, none of our agents believes this business is safe. They know the chances they take.”

“But do they know the chances you take with them?”

“That’s unfair,” Merrivale blurted, and he wondered what Peruge was doing. Why this abrupt attack? Was there trouble farther upstairs?

“You’re a fool, Merrivale,” Peruge said. “You’ve lost us three good people.”

“My orders were explicit and you know it,” Merrivale said.

“And given those orders, you did what you thought best.”

“Naturally.” Merrivale could feel sweat collecting under his collar and he rubbed a finger around against his skin there. “We had no way of knowing precisely what had happened to Porter. You told me to send him in alone. Those were your very words.”

“And when Porter—just vanished?”

“You said yourself that he could’ve had personal reasons for disappearing!”

“What personal reasons? Porter’s record was one of the best.”

“But you said he’d quarreled with his—wife.”

“Did I say that? I don’t remember that at all.”

So that’s the way it is, Merrivale thought. His stomach felt painfully knotted. “You know you offered that as a possible reason for sending in a double team, but with identical orders for them.”

“I don’t know anything of the kind, Merrivale. You’ve sent Depeaux and Grinelli down that Oregon rathole and you sit there making excuses. When Porter was missed, you should’ve originated an official inquiry for a vacationer believed to be missing in that region.”

So that’s going to be our new approach, Merrivale thought. And if it succeeds, Peruge gets the credit. If it fails, I get the blame. How neat!

Merrivale said, “I presume that’s the line of attack you’ll take when you get out to Oregon.”

“You know damned well it is!”

The Chief himself is probably listening to this, Merrivale thought. Oh, God! Why did I ever get into this business?

“Have you told the new teams that I’ll be leading them personally?” Peruge asked.

“I was briefing them when you called.”

“Very well. I’ll be leaving within the hour and I’ll meet the new teams in Portland.”

“I’ll tell them.” Merrivale spoke with weary resignation.

“And tell them this: tell them I want it emphasized that this new operation must be handled with the utmost discretion. There will be no grandstand plays, understood? Hellstrom has powerful friends and I don’t mind telling you that this ecology issue is explosive. Hellstrom has said all the right things to the right people and they think he’s some kind of ecological messiah. Luckily, there are others who realize he’s a fanatic madman, and I’m sure we’ll prevail. Understand me?”

“Perfectly.” Merrivale did not try to conceal his bitterness now. The Chief was listening to Peruge. No doubt of that. The whole thing was a staged performance: preparation of the sacrificial goat. The goat’s name was, of course, Merrivale.

“I doubt very much that you understand me perfectly,” Peruge said, “but it’s likely that you understand me well enough to follow the orders I’ve just given you without any more disgusting errors. See to it at once.”

There was a sharp click on the line.

Merrivale sighed, replaced the receiver in its cradle on the elaborate scrambling phone. The signs were clear. He must juggle his own hot potato. And if he dropped it, or if anyone else dropped it, fingers would point in only one direction. Well, he had been in this position before, just as he had placed others in the identical position. There was only one safe response. He must delegate authority, but do it so subtly that everything still appeared to be in his own hands. The logical candidate was Shorty Janvert. As a first step, Shorty would be named as number two on this project, right under Dzule Peruge himself. Peruge had not specified who he wanted as number two. That had been a mistake on his part. If Peruge changed this assignment, a thing he might very well do, then he would be responsible for the actions of his new second. Shorty was a logical choice. Peruge had made it clear on several occasions that he didn’t fully trust Janvert. But the little man was imaginative and resourceful. The choice could be defended.