High-Opp

  Vapid-face stood up, hand against his bleeding cheek.

  The clerk on the floor again stirred, lifting his head. He got to his feet, looked around vacantly.

  Movius said, “All right, get out of here!”

  The gladiator opened the door, stood aside.

  Addington turned a measuring stare on Movius. “I’m going to remember your face . . . personally!”

  Gerard leaned forward, his bald head glistening as brightly as the desk top. “Let’s understand something. If anything is done to Dan or his wife because of what happened here, I will consider it was done to me.” His eyes slitted. “If you want open war, owl guts, you’ll get it.”

  Without a word, Addington turned, went out, trailed by his three aides. Gerard’s receptionist closed the door.

  Movius went to Grace, helped her into a chair, pulled the blanket around her knees. “We’ll send out for some clothes.”

  “I’ll get them from our supplies,” said Gerard. He picked up the phone, gave terse orders, replaced the phone. Turning to Movius, he said, “I want you to give the lab the formula for that poison gas and antidote. They could come in handy. And while you’re at it, you could tell me where you got them.”

  Movius took out his stylus, tossed it onto the desk. “What poison gas? That’s a standard stylus.”

  Gerard picked it up, examined it.

  “I once got a nasty scratch from the sharp end of a re-load,” said Movius. “I remembered it and the fact that I’d heard a story about a poison gas. Come to think about it, I read about the gas in one of Navvy’s pop-mags. It was fiction.”

  Gerard looked at the scratch on his hand.

  “Sorry about that,” said Movius. “That was the convincer.”

  Suddenly, Gerard jerked back in his chair, began to laugh. The bellowing of it filled the office. “Ohhhhh,” he said. “Ohhhhh, the look on Addington’s face! Ohhhhh. And the way you made him wait until the last!” It was a full minute before Gerard could control himself. He took out a handkerchief, dabbed at his eyes. “Movius, I would have let you cut half through my hand for that show.” He replaced the handkerchief, sat forward.

  Grace was looking from one to the other, puzzled. “What . . .”

  Movius shook his head.

  “Movius, I’ve been looking for a man like you for a long time. I saw the sorter card and could see from it that you were good. But that was as resourceful a bit of quick thinking as I’ve ever seen.” Again he chuckled. “I have a little job . . .”

  A knock sounded on the door.

  “Yes?”

  Gladiator appeared with a bundle. Gerard stood up, went around the desk and took the bundle. The receptionist closed the door. Gerard opened another door in the side wall, revealing a small room with a leather couch. “You can dress in here, Mrs. Movius.”

  Grace stood up, pulling the blanket around herself. “Thank you.” She went into the room.

  Gerard tossed the package onto the couch, closed the door, returned to his desk, sat down. He took out a handkerchief, patted at the perspiration on his bald head. “You’ve got good taste, Movius.” He put away the handkerchief. “She’s no raving beauty, but she has good looks and personality, the kind that wear well as a wife.” Gerard glanced down to Movius’ stylus on the desk. “Oh, yes—the job.”

  Movius hitched his chair closer to the desk.

  “Just a minute,” said Gerard. He took the phone, said, “Get me the Sorter cards on Daniel Movius. Bailey has them downstairs.” Presently, something went Pop! under the desk. Gerard reached down, brought up the pneumo-tube cartridge, opened it, pulled out the cards.

  “That could be dangerous,” said Movius.

  Gerard looked up from the cards. “What?”

  “How do you know what’s coming up in that tube?”

  Gerard pulled back from his desk, looked under it. “Great Gallup! I never thought of that! It could just as easily be a charge of nitrox!” He moved his chair around beside the desk, went on reading the cards. Presently, he looked up, put the cards on his desk, his expression thoughtful. He ran a hand over his bald head, looked at Movius.

  “I was just refreshing my memory. The records show that you ran one of the most efficient departments of the government. Also, you have an extremely high loyalty index.” He looked at the cards. “Extremely high.”

  That was the old Daniel Movius, he thought. Now we get the bid for that loyalty.

  “I’ve just saved your life,” said Gerard. “Do you know that?”

  Movius nodded. “And I may have saved yours.” He looked across the desk toward the hidden tube.

  Gerard wet his lips with his tongue. “Exactly. I wasn’t joking when I said I’ve been looking for someone like you. I need a man I can trust like my right arm.”

  “Tell me what to do,” said Movius.

  Gerard sat back. “In a bureau such as this you sometimes get someone who is overly ambitious.” His expression hardened. “Owl Guts Addington and The Coor are behind the man who heads one of my sections. They hope to put that man in my seat.” He mopped nervously at his bald head. “There have been two attempts on my life.”

  “And you want a bodyguard?” asked Movius.

  “No, much more than that. You were certified to department CR-14 by the Sorter. I want you to go down there and hang a frame around the neck of the department director. I know you’re the man for the job.”

  Why all the praise? wondered Movius. He decided to apply London’s methods, get at what the other man wanted. “What’s so dangerous about the job?”

  “Mmmmm,” said Gerard. “You are sharp.” He slapped a hand onto the desk. “All right, here’s the proposition. You’re filling a vacancy in the department caused by the death of the last man I sent down there. He fell down a light well.”

  Movius nodded, pointed toward Gerard’s desk drawer. “Let me have that lapel gun.”

  Gerard leaned back, opened the drawer, handed gun and holster to Movius.

  “What is CR-14?” asked Movius.

  “Confidential routing,” said Gerard.

  We’re playing it cagey, thought Movius. He said, “Who’s the department head?”

  “Rafe Newton. He’s a cousin of The Coor.”

  “Nepotism?”

  “It sometimes happens,” said Gerard. “I’d boot him in a minute otherwise.” He leaned back, steepled his hands. “No love lost on The Coor, is there?”

  Movius shook his head.

  “I believe The Coor is heading for a showdown at the time of his major poll this Fall.” Gerard consulted a desk calendar. “That’s October 8, about two weeks away.” He looked up at Movius from beneath his brows. “You were tired of this latest plaything Glass picked up, eh?” Almost to himself he said, “I’ll have to see he finds that out.”

  The door to Gerard’s private room swung open. Grace emerged wearing a standard work suit, a little too large for her. The legs had been rolled up.

  Without looking at her Gerard said, “You were listening, weren’t you, my dear?”

  Grace’s voice had a tone of defiance. “Why not?”

  Gerard turned his bald head slowly until he was facing her. “No reason. A wife should take an interest in what’s happening to her husband.” He reached into the desk drawer, withdrew one of the ankle guns, slipped gun and handful of recharges from the holster. Coming around the desk, he displayed the little weapon to Grace. “You slip the re-charge in like this. Then press this to break the seal and put the first pellet in the chamber. This is the safety. When it shows red the gun is ready to fire.” He handed it to Grace, turned toward the open door of his private room. “Put a pellet into the couch there to get the feel of it. I want you to have this gun in case they try to pick you up again.”

  Grace lifted the little weapon, squeezed off a single shot. It went fap SPLAT! into the leather couch. She thumbed on the safety, put the gun in her pocket.

  Gerard leaned back on his desk. “You’ve fired one of those befor
e.” Suddenly, he bent forward from the hips. “Where?”

  Grace looked to Movius, eyes frightened.

  “I said where does an LP female learn to shoot a fap gun?” Gerard demanded.

  “I showed her,” said Movius.

  Gerard continued to stare at Grace. “Where did you get the gun, Movius?”

  Here it is, thought Movius. He said, “Off Pescado.”

  Gerard whirled toward him.

  “He was one of The Coor’s bully boys,” said Movius. “He jumped me the same night I was low-opped. He and two others.”

  “You were running away from that ALP wrong rap?”

  Movius shrugged. “What else could I do?”

  “And they had six weeks to find you and couldn’t? Where’d you hide?” His voice bit off the questions as though he was shooting them from a gun.

  Movius nodded toward Grace. “My wife hid me.”

  Gerard moved slowly away from the desk, turned to look at Movius. “I understand that will have to do for now.”

  Movius got to his feet.

  Gerard looked at the muscular bulk of him, said almost to himself. “I don’t think they’ll be dropping you down any light wells. No, indeed, I don’t.” His eyes stared up at Movius. “You clean this one up and I’ve a better job for you.” He turned, reached across the desk, opened a top drawer, pulled out a green pad. Using Movius’ stylus, he scribbled on it, finished, looked at the stylus and grinned. “Mind if I keep this as a sort of memento?”

  “Not at all.”

  Gerard pocketed the stylus, handed the note to Movius. “This presented at District Housing will get you an apartment in the privileged section—a special apartment where you’ll be safe. My own quarters are on the roof. I’ll have a car and driver assigned to you. We may as well come out in the open; there’s no way to keep your position secret after what happened today. You’ll go into CR-14 as my man and no questions asked.” Gerard waved a hand. “Take the rest of the day; report in the morning.”

  “Will there be any trouble about the special status?” asked Movius. “The Sorter rated me clerk.”

  “And I rated you executive assistant,” said Gerard. “That’s a bureau chief’s privilege.”

  “Let’s get my duties straight,” said Movius. He looked down at the District Housing order in his hand.

  “I don’t want to know what you do,” said Gerard. “You get rid of Newton. Either make it legal or make it look accidental.” He turned to Grace. “I’ll have you taken off the LP rolls.”

  “You needn’t bother.”

  Movius could tell from her tone that she’d formed a violent dislike for Gerard.

  “You’re coming off the rolls anyway,” said Gerard. “Can’t have Dan worrying about his wife. You stick close to the apartment. I’ve a small army of guards on the place. You’ll be safe there.” He turned away, dismissing them.

  As they went out the door, they heard Gerard on the phone. “Have a car and driver in the side driveway for Mr. Movius. And send up some building maintenance men. I want my pneumo tube yanked out and re-routed into the outer office.”

  Chapter 12

  “And you were almost ready to get rid of Gerard?” said Glass. He leaned back against his desk, stared down at Rafe Newton.

  The nephew avoided The Coor’s eyes. “I could . . .”

  “You can leave Gerard alone!” Glass barked the words. “And you can get a sample of that poison gas for us. Gerard is suddenly too bold. I want to know how long Movius has been working for him. Probably all the time he was Liaitor. He could have booby traps in every department of government; he went everywhere. That gas! How could someone develop a thing like that right under our noses? That may be what’s making Gerard so bold.”

  “Or desperate,” said Newton.

  “I said bold.” Glass frowned. “We have to find out what his position is before we make a move.”

  Newton shifted his position on the couch, “What about Movius?”

  “Movius! Well, we know where he is now. Give Movius a couple of days to rattle around while we check back on everyone who contacts him. Then kill him.” Glass smiled without humor.

  “And the new wife?”

  “Leave her alone until you get rid of Movius. But pick up her father and the brother. The brother used to drive for Movius. That must be where he met the woman.”

  Newton lowered his eyes. “The father and brother have disappeared.”

  Glass lost his temper. “People can’t just disappear! Find them! You hear me? Drag in the wife . . .”

  “I thought you said to leave her alone?” Newton sounded like a small boy objecting to a reprimand.

  The Coor calmed himself, tightened his lips into a thin line. “So I did. Let that stand.”

  “Okay, but . . .”

  “Drag her in for questioning after you get Movius. Get your information.” Glass raised his voice to a roar. “And don’t let him slip through your fingers again!”

  Chapter 13

  The apartment was higher on the hill than the Third Rank quarters had occupied before the low-opp. There was a feeling of silence, isolation in the new apartment never found in a Warren. And space. No sensation of the walls creeping closer with each passing day. The china clinked with a more refined tone. The blankets rustled more softly. Workers spoke in hushed undertones.

  Grace came out of the bedroom with its twin beds and subtly richer furnishings. She scuffed a toe against the thick pile of the living room rug. Movius was sitting in one of the deep chairs looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the city.

  “There’s a kitchen,” she said. “A dining room and a private kitchen-service tube if we want the regular meals. And the bathroom must be ten feet square. It has a tub.” She sat down on the arm of Movius’ chair.

  “The privileges of the High-Opp,” said Movius. “There’s another one, too. We have a master scrambler on the roof. No spy beams can look in on the High-Opp.” He glanced up at her. “We don’t have to pretend we’re making love here. We can talk right out.”

  She blushed.

  “Where did you learn to shoot a fap gun?” he demanded.

  She slipped from the chair arm, stood up, walked away from him. “My father taught me.”

  “Your father has never . . .” He broke off, wondering if that were true.

  She whirled on him. “My mother was killed in the educator riots! My father fought his way out with a stolen gun to save us! He still has it!”

  So Grace had lost her mother the way he’d lost his. How the rioters had enjoyed killing the women, the breeders. He said, “I’m sorry. My mother got it the same way. I never knew her.” His voice had flat undertones.

  “They didn’t tell me,” she said.

  “They? Who are they?”

  “I mean my father.”

  The old bean pole? he thought. He said, “How would your father know?”

  “He made inquiries.”

  “Oh.”

  So they had made inquiries. He let the silence grow cold between them. Grace returned to the arm of his chair.

  “Why is Gerard putting an untried man into a tough spot?” he asked.

  “You’re not exactly untried,” she said. “He has your Sorter record and he saw you in action today. Remember that.”

  “He may be in a shakier position than he lets on,” said Movius. “He mentioned two attempts on his life.” He lifted himself from the chair, paced across the room and back, clenching and unclenching his fists. “But this is like grabbing at straws.”

  She stood, walked to the window, turned around, silhouetted against the view of the city, her face in shadow. “Dan, please be careful.”

  Her words touched off a flash of anger in his. She would have to go all female on him at a time like this. “Mind your own business!” he snapped.

  Her eyes widened, she turned, ran into the bedroom. He heard the bathroom door slam, water turned on full force. Even above the noise of the water he could hear her so
bs.

  He flung himself into the chair and stared at nothing. And why do I keep thinking about the helpless way she looked at me today, standing there in Gerard’s office in that blanket? He gritted his teeth. And why did I get so angry because another man saw Grace unclothed? An isolated fragment of the wedding ceremony flitted through his mind, “ . . .to cherish and to protect . . .”

  Grace returned, stood in the doorway. Movius thrust his hands into his pockets to still their restless movements.

  “Do we have any sleeping pills?” she asked. Her voice gave only a faint hint of the tears.

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “I haven’t been sleeping well lately. There are none in the bathroom.”

  “High-Opp apartments should come equipped with sleeping tablets,” he said. “Send out for some. Phone’s over there in the hall.”

  “Would you go down to the servo-mat in the lobby and get me some?” she asked. “It would be quicker.”

  The request coincided with his feelings. He felt he had to get away from the apartment, be by himself to think. He couldn’t think with her standing there staring at him.

  “I’ll get them,” he said. He got to his feet, walked past her to the hall door without looking at her.

  She stopped him at the door. “Dan.”

  He waited, hand on the knob. “Yes?”

  “Thank you for saving me from Bu-Con. I know it would have been much simpler just to let them have me.”

  “I was lucky.” Then he thought, Lucky! Anyone but that fat hypochondriac Addington would have pulled a gun first and called for a showdown.

  He went out into the hall. An empty elevator stood open at his level. He stepped inside, punched for the lobby. The door closed and there was a sharp hissing sound. Instead of going down, the elevator surged upward. Movius punched the DOWN button a second time, noticed a strange tang in the air. He sniffed at it, felt the darkness sweet over him. “The Coor!” he thought. “Of all the dumb . . .”