None But Lucifer

Chapter XIV

The moment he entered the office, Johnson sprang out of his chair and strutted forth to greet him, stomach and hand outstretched. "William, my boy! I certainly am glad to see you. You do look fit, I must say. Much better than when you left. Have a nice trip?"

"It was all right."

"Cruising around the Caribbean, only all right?"

"You yanked us back just when we were getting started."

Johnson soothed: "When things are more settled, you'll be able to take a round-the-world cruise if you want to. But we can't put pleasure before business, William. Right now everything is sizzling at once, and I really must —"

Hale broke in: "I've been thinking about something. Now that I have everything I want, I'd like to spread the cheer around to a few people who treated me decently."

"Anyone in particular?" Johnson asked, untroubled by the interruption.

"The Burkes, the janitors who took care of me. I'd like to make them happy if I can."

"How? Money, I suppose?"

"I guess so. Yeah, sure. That's what they need most."

Johnson pushed a buzzer with one hand, and shoved a pad and pencil toward Hale with the other. "Write the name and address."

When Hale had done so, Johnson handed the sheet to a prim middle-aged secretary who had appeared, and said: "Call up these people and find out where they came from. Get all the information you can squeeze out of them."

"I don't get it," said Hale. "Are we working on the Burkes already?"

"Of course, William. In our line of business, to think is to act. No time wasted; no false motions. You'll find that an excellent slogan to guide you while I'm away. Think a while, naturally; but the principal thing is to act, even if you're wrong." He hitched his chair closer. "Now I'll explain the situation in Europe. You know that we are responsible for the fact that this country is shipping aircraft to friendly nations. As a result, the balance of power has been upset. The dictatorships had been taking advantage of the military and psychological weakness of the democracies.

"But although the totalitarian nations had based their economies on the production of armaments for several years. America, within a short time, could produce more armaments than all those nations together! You really have no idea of our productive resources. For instance, we produce normally something like twenty-five thousand automobiles per week.

"It would require no great effort to convert a large fraction of our plant to the production of tanks and military trucks and supply carriers, and turn out several thousand airplanes per week as well. You can see what that could do to the production of the most industrialized of the dictatorships, about which they have been boasting recently — a mere ten thousand planes a year! Almost without disturbing our national economy, we can mechanize all the democratic armies, feed them, clothe them, and supply them with the world's most efficient weapons, in less time than you could imagine.

"The autocratic nations fully realize that. In any case, their economic systems are practically exhausted. They have been able to arm themselves as much as they have only by creating nearly self-sufficient economies: controlled currency, import restrictions, and so forth. If I leave them to themselves, they will go to war, in the hope of achieving a quick victory before American help can count.

"But you understand the philosophy of Hell. My strategy worked with its usual beautiful precision. The autocratic nations are experiencing a first-rate crisis, and the democracies feel rather secure for once. The dictatorships are close to war. Now, William, tell me what you would do if you were I."

Hale looked thoughtfully at his cigarette lighter. "What would I do? Why" — he lit the cigarette ponderously, giving himself time to think — "I guess I'd try to prevent war."

"Of course." Johnson nodded, pleased. "But for what purpose?"

"To keep the world frightened as long as possible."

"Fine! Admirable! That is exactly what I intend doing. War is often an emotional stimulant, or at least can be given a romantic gloss. I find that fear of war is much more debilitating. So I want to continue piling crisis on crisis, making first one side panicky and then the other.

"Eventually, of course, the world will come to accept war as inevitable, and feel that they want to get it over with. At that point I shall allow war to come. Then the hysterical apathy produced by constant fear will be drowned in the reality of war's horror. That point, however, has not yet been reached." Johnson lit a cigar. "Right now there is danger of either war or peace breaking out in Europe. The aggressors can't increase their production of munitions. But their economies are based on arms manufacture; if they stop producing them, they will collapse, or be overthrown from below. Obviously, I can't let them go to war, stop producing munitions, or be overthrown. Then what is the solution, William?"

Hale saw none. The dictatorships were trapped. Unless — "No," he said. "They wouldn't do it."

"What wouldn't who do?"

"The democracies wouldn't float a loan and feed them raw materials."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Why should they? They'd be arming the people they're preparing to fight."

"Ah!" said Johnson smugly. "You haven't examined all the facts. Remember that the dictatorships have defaulted on a lot of debts to the smaller nations, who have had to take goods instead of money in payment. And, furthermore, these debts will be repudiated altogether if the dictatorships are overthrown. Which means that the smaller nations will collapse if the dictatorships do.

"Much as the democracies fear war, they fear a general political upheaval even more. I shall play on that fear. There will be a huge loan to the dictatorships, and all the raw materials they can absorb. Thus the danger of peace will be removed; everybody will be producing munitions madly; and the chronic state of crisis will be kept furiously boiling. Do you agree with me?"

Hale shook his head slowly. "I guess I'll never learn."

"Nonsense. William! It may take you a few years, perhaps even centuries. What of it? We have all eternity before us. Simply remember this." He tapped on the desk for emphasis. "Our business, let me repeat, is to torment the greatest number of people in the most efficient manner possible. War, or the fear of war, is the greatest mass torment. But there are other torments for nations, or classes within nations: unemployment, taxes, unbalanced budgets, business competition, threats of social upheavals, relief slashes, and so on. Even though the war crisis is our most absorbing problem at the moment, we must never cease using the smaller torments."

Quite naturally, Hale had been feeling increasingly unsure of himself. His motive in forcing Lucifer to give him a partnership had been nothing more satanic than a desire for wealth, luxury, security, and a little power — enough to make him feel important. He felt inadequate, though, when it came to ruling the world with Lucifer.

"What am I supposed to do while you're gone?" he asked uneasily.

"That depends entirely on you, William. If you want to experiment, I have no objections. After all, your powers are the same as mine. Do anything you want. There is a complete plan for the Western Hemisphere already in operation. If you don't feel equal to constructing a plan of your own, I'd suggest that you let that plan work out and study it in operation. But that's your problem."

"What about paying the office help?"

"The company has funds, and there will be money coming in all the time. The loan for the dictatorships, for example, will net us a very large fee, secretly, of course. We are never at a loss for money." He looked at his wrist watch. "I wish that secretary would hurry. My luggage is at the pier, and my ship leaves at noon."

Hale said, "Those files have me scared."

"No reason why they should. Every month the information in them is reduced to graphs, showing the country's economic, social, and political condition. There are several thousand drawers in the files, but they are mostly cross references, not separate entries.

"Suppose there is a rise in employment. You get in touch with our lobby in the State where it occurs; or in Washington if it's nation-wide. You begin a movement for greater taxation of profits, or of pay rolls, or anything that will keep the total national income from increasing. Or you can lower the standard of living, by raising rentals and commodity prices, which will have the same effect —"

At this point the secretary returned and gave Johnson a typed sheet. He told her to wait and waddled toward the door, motioning to Hale. He went with fussy haste to the files marked "W," and under "Wisconsin" he found a "Rockmont" card.

"Nothing here," he said. "But Rockmont is in Douglas County, and so is Superior, which is quite a large town. You see, Mr. Burke is a naturalized citizen, which eliminates him. Mrs. Burke, though, was a Greene before she married, and the Greenes have lived in and around Rockmont for generations." He flipped rapidly through the cards. "Ah, here it is ... Superior. Last entry, two weeks ago: 'Nicholas Perry, dying of lung cancer —' Here, read it yourself."

Hale said doubtfully: "I don't get this. What's Perry got to do with it? Why can't I just give them some of my own money?"

"William!" Johnson cried, shocked. "You don't know what you're saying! We're businessmen, running our business on the most efficient, economical lines possible. We can't simply hand out money every time someone needs it. Remember your old strategy."

"My old strategy?"

"Of course. Indirection, William. Make someone else pay. It spreads the misery. Did I give you money because you needed a fortune? Of course not; it wouldn't have been efficient. Indirection always works. Before you abandoned it, weren't you able to hide your motives even from me?" Hale looked up sharply; Johnson's voice had unduly stressed the last sentence. But the round face was entirely innocent. "Whenever possible, we use the hidden finger to gain our ends. Read the card. William."

Hale read: "Nicholas Perry, lung cancer, one month to live. No relatives. Wisconsin family, three generations. Estate income goes to found cancer research laboratory approx. $25,000/yr."

Johnson said: "I admit I'm tempted not to let the Burkes have Perry's money. Oh, we'll be able to find a connection between the Perrys and the Greenes, all right. Most of the old families are related in sparsely settled places like that, if they'd take the trouble to search the records. But I have a fondness for poorly capitalized research foundations. Perry wants to finance one on twenty-five thousand a year. That would pay for very meager equipment, and a small staff of second-rate technicians. Best of all, if they should miraculously discover a cure for pulmonary cancer, they won't have funds to distribute it, so the profit and possibly the credit would go elsewhere.

"It's a temptation, William. But this is our hemisphere, so, of course, the Burkes come first."

He strutted back to his office, and dictated: "Trace a connection, not illegally remote, between the Perrys of Superior and the Greenes of Rockmont, Wisconsin. Have the legal department inform Nicholas Perry that he has living relatives who have a legitimate claim on the estate. If he dies before you can do so, contest the will. That's all."

He turned to Hale. "If Perry leaves the fortune to the Burkes, the inheritance tax will cut the income to about ten or fifteen thousand. Think that's enough?"

"Plenty," replied Hale distractedly. A vague sort of nervousness had been troubling him more and more. Though he tried to act normal, he stood fidgeting behind his chair, glancing longingly at the door.

Johnson watched him curiously, but continued: "If Perry dies before we can reach him, the best settlement we can make will probably be an equal division of the state between the Burkes and the laboratory. That would hamstring the laboratory effectively enough to suit even me. In any case you can leave the matter, including collection of our fee, to our legal department. By the way, you of course realize that neither they nor any of our other subordinates know who we really are. I really must be going now."

Though he wanted desperately to be home, Hale asked: "Want me to drive you to the pier?"

"No, thank you William." Johnson was performing the major task of getting into his overcoat. To reach around to find the armholes made him puff and turn red. He placed a derby squarely on his innocent-looking white head, and teased: "I appreciate your offer, but you don't want to stay away from your bride too long, do you?"

Hale at once understood what was the matter with him. His desire to go home had become an overwhelming fixation. He rationalized that, since he had been married, he had not been away from his wife for more than a few minutes at a time. So it was natural for him to want to get back to her. But that didn't explain his preposterous unhappiness at being separated from her. Going down in the elevator he could think of nothing else.

Johnson got into a taxi with elephantine exertion. He said: "Good-by, William. Do whatever you think best in the way of supervision of the business. You'll hear from me at intervals, and I'll be back in a few months. But remember this: "Anything you do, no matter what it is, will increase the misery and torments of the people, because that is how Hell is constructed."

"Yeah," mumbled Hale unhearingly. "I get it. Good-by." Even before the taxi started, he was sprinting to his roadster. Only when he was racing recklessly uptown did he think of a question he had meant to ask Johnson. But he told himself it wasn't important. What difference did it make how long Johnson and Banner had known each other? What of it if Johnson hadn't mentioned it? There was no reason why he should.

Long before he'd started on his campaign to blackmail Lucifer, Hale had seen Gloria's picture in the papers, and had put marriage to her on his list of objectives. So there couldn't be any connection between his marriage and Johnson.

He could still have caught Johnson at the pier, but he didn't think it was necessary. The truth was that even the swift elevator was too slow in bringing him to Gloria. He couldn't wait to take her in his arms.