The Godmakers

Chapter Fourteen

Day began early for the Bullones.

In spite of its being election day, the High Commissioner took off for his office an hour after dawn, passing a sleepy-eyed Orne in the main hallway with a bright “Good morning, son. Did you sleep well?”

Orne admitted that he had slept well. He could see Diana and Polly standing in the main salon doorway.

“I have to be going,” Bullone said. “See what I mean about this damn job owning you?"

Diana came down the hall followed by Polly, both with questions about Orne’s health. They all went outdoors to see Bullone into his limousine flitter. The sky was cloudless and there was a smell of green plants in the air with a faint flower perfume.

“We’re going to take it easy today, Lew,” Diana said. “I’ve had my orders.”

She took his hand as they went up the steps after her father’s departure. Orne found himself enjoying her hand in his—enjoying the tactile contact far too much for his peace of mind.

He withdrew his hand at the door, stood aside, said: “Lead on.”

“First, breakfast,” she said. “We have to get your strength back.”

I have to watch myself, Orne thought. This whole family is too open and charming.

He thought suddenly of the charming women on Sheleb—before they had turned on him. His body remembered pain.

“I think a picnic is just what your doctor ordered today,” Diana said. “There’s a little lake with grassy banks out there. We’ll take viewers and a couple of good novels, or anything else you might want to read. This’ll be a lazy, do-nothing day.”

Orne hesitated. “What about your big party?”

“Mother has that well in hand.”

Orne glanced around. Polly had gone inside with a last “Hurry along, you two. Breakfast for you in just a few minutes.”

Orne thought of the things that might occur today in this house, things he should observe. But, no… if he had analyzed the situation correctly, Diana represented a weak link. Time was closing in on him, too. By tomorrow, the Nathians could have the government under their complete control.

He knew he had to make an immediate choice. He said: “Friendly native guide, my life is in your hands.”

And he thought: I hope I’m not a prophet.