High-Opp

Chapter 14

“We must give him the idea that Bu-Psych is omnipotent,” said O’Brien, leaning back in his chair, steepling his fingers before his mouth. “He must grow to feel that we know every move he makes.” O’Brien lowered his hands, leaned forward.

Grace stood at the end of the table, back to the chart with the single red line. The line had been carried perhaps an inch farther along its journey, rising slightly.

“I understand,” she said. “It’s the only way you can control him”

“I wanted a chance to talk to you, anyway,” said O’Brien. He leaned back, pressed his fingers against his greying temples. “I learned today that you’ve been asking questions of one of our consultants.”

She turned her profile to him, stared at the chart on the other wall.

O’Brien leaned forward. “Why did you ask what kind of a husband a man with a high loyalty index makes?”

“I was curious.” Her tone was defiant.

“And your curiosity was satisfied? You found out they make extremely devoted husbands.” He slapped his hand against the table top to startle her. “Grace! If you were called upon to eliminate him today, what would you do?”

She paled. “Maybe you’d better get somebody else.”

“We can’t. We don’t dare arouse his suspicions.”

“Then I’d have to… to do it,” she said, her voice low. She turned, looked at O’Brien. “Nate, what is the loyalty index, really?”

“I don’t know if I can answer that question in simple terms,” he said. “Essentially, though, I guess you could say it measures the feeling a person has for the welfare of others.”

She nodded. “Where is he?”

“Let’s not get sentimental,” said O’Brien. “He’s under hypnos now, being examined. We want to know how he feels toward you.” O’Brien leaned back.

Her hands began to tremble and she clasped them tightly together. “He’s very resourceful,” she said.

O’Brien looked at her hands, the knuckles so white where she clasped them. He tugged at an ear. “Yes. Now we want to know how he operates in CR-14. He knows Newton will be out to kill him as he did the other man Gerard sent down. He also knows that Gerard’s threat may not keep Addington and The Coor away.”

She turned a piercing stare upon him. “What do you think Dan will do?”

O’Brien glanced at the red line on the chart. “Our treatment has been pretty drastic. He has been thrown into a tough problem situation. My guess is he’ll show his ruthless side. He’ll stamp on Newton the way he’d stamp on an insect. Addington and The Coor, too, given the chance. It’s a delicate situation, but one calculated to win Gerard’s trust if he succeeds. That’s what Gerard would like to do to his enemies—stamp on them—if he dared. I believe Gerard is taken in by the loyalty index. He thinks he has won Movius’ loyalty. Gerard doesn’t know too much about the variants on the index.”

“What about my father?” she asked. “Does he have a ruthless side, too?”

“All revolutionaries have a ruthless side,” he said. “They have to be practical. That means doing the thing that is necessary. Your father and brother had to go into hiding today. We had planned on it.”

“Hiding?”

“You’ve been recognized as Mrs. Movius,” said O’Brien. “Your relations, therefore, know something. They might be… uh, persuaded to reveal what they know.”

Grace sighed, looked down at her hands.

“You have been remembering that you are a woman,” said O’Brien. “You must put that memory aside. You are a Bu-Psych operative. When this is all over, the crisis past, you can find some nice young man…”

He watched, calculatingly, as Grace turned away, went to the door, opened it slowly. She kept her face averted as she spoke. “I’ll leave now if you don’t mind. We can’t let him see me here when you bring him out.”

“Of course.”

She closed the door behind her.

O’Brien jerked to his feet, stood at the window, staring out over the city where lights were beginning to spring alive in the dusk. “Such weak tools,” he whispered. “Put a little strain on one and it bends out of shape.”