Frank Herbert - High-Opp

“Who’d do his dirty work?”

“Movius is the kind to do his own dirty work.”

“The things which make him ideal for our purposes also make him extremely dangerous to us,” said O’Brien. He rubbed a greying temple, sat down across from London. “I guess we anticipated that. Nothing to do but look sharp and do away with him once he’s served his purpose.”

“Afraid so,” said London. “We wouldn’t dare let him assume control of the government. I’ll alert the others. Any one of us may be called upon to put him out of the way.”

“It would be criminal to see our groundwork wasted,” said O’Brien. “I presume Grace got across to him the great mystery of it all.”

London leaned back in his chair, tipped his head down. “I’m not certain that was such a good idea. Grace was followed, had to lead them clear out of Lascadou before she could shake them.”

“Movius does have the idea he’s an important figure, though?” asked O’Brien.

“As far as I can see, he has always had that idea.”

O’Brien shook his head. “The reports would indicate that he has not been extremely ego-conscious. This business of leading him through the tunnels, mysterious organization, the sudden attention, all of these things are designed to…”

“That’s another thing,” said London. “Navvy and Movius almost got knocked off on the way in tonight. Someone spotted Movius with Clancy and they blanketed the Richmond and Riverside Warrenates. They tortured the information out of Clancy, but he didn’t know much.”

“What happened?” asked O’Brien.

“Three of The Coor’s hoods picked them up coming out of a sewer service dome. Navvy said Movius is an unexpectedly deadly man in a fight or they’d have been done for. Navvy could hardly get Movius away. He stopped and took a shot at Addington.”

“Addington? What was he doing…”

“After they picked up Clancy, Addington came down to supervise the… uh, interrogation himself. Clancy only knew Navvy and Movius were meeting two of our men near that service dome.”

“I presume they dropped Clancy in the river?”

“Yes.”

O’Brien pulled a stylus from his pocket, scratched the palm of his hand with it. “We’re pretty ruthless and callous ourselves, Quilliam.”

“In a good cause.”

“And we are the judges of how much worth our cause has,” said O’Brien. He put the stylus back in his pocket, looked up at the other chart on the wall, his eyes traveling down over the multi-colored lines. “We’re going to have a bad time. Crisis is near. Maybe two months, maybe less.”

“About the time of The Coor’s Fall poll,” said London.

“Anything else on your mind, Quilliam? It’s been a long day.”

London rested his bony elbows on the table. “Guarding Movius when he goes out to answer the Bu-Trans work order.”

“I’ve been thinking about that, too,” said O’Brien. “The Bu-Trans starting clerk is a man named Bailey. He has a sister who…”

Movius awoke with the sure knowledge that someone was coming along the tunnel, a slow rustle of movement. The luminous dial on his watch showed five minutes to seven. He scooped up the gun from the floor beside his cot, slipped from the cot, tip-toed to the light switch, waited. He heard the curtain open, clicked the switch. The wide, staring eyes of Janus Peterson, the Bu-Trans driver he had met the night before, stared back at him. The big man’s barrel-shaped body just fitted through the narrow doorway.

“Ready for business, ain’t you?” said Peterson, looking at the gun. The man’s eyes began their rapid blinking. “Sure are ready.” In Peterson’s husky voice it was a flat statement, much as a man might say “Not today.”

Movius returned to the cot, tossed the gun onto it while he dressed. “Sorry. I couldn’t know who it was. I just woke up.”

Peterson and another man began bringing in boxes. “Your stuff,” said Peterson. “Had to cart it out through the garbage disposal tube.” He placed a box on the floor. “Great Gallup! What a stench!” His glance went to the gun on the cot. “Guy you took that off of died. Two more of The Coor’s boys in the hospital, a Bu-Con bull’s there, too, with a hole in his side.” He grinned at Movius, the action giving his face a mask-like appearance. “Must’ve been some night!”

The LP grapevine, thought Movius. He said, “Do they know who did it?”

“They didn’t recognize who was with you, but they must’ve spotted you. They’re hopping mad and looking all over for you.”

“What’s the order?”

“I hear it’s shoot on sight,” said Peterson.

That does it , thought Movius. If it’s a war they want, they’ll get one. Damn them! He said, “We’re going to need recruits, Mr. Peterson. Know of any?”

“Might; might not.”

That’s logical , thought Movius. How does he know he can trust me?

“You could try remembering when the time comes,” said Movius.

“Might; might not.”

Movius smiled. “Thanks.”

“I figure you’re welcome.” Peterson turned, slipped out.

A good man , thought Movius. He’s going to come in handy.

Quilliam London brought Movius his breakfast. The old man lowered himself to a box, scratched his chin with a thumb. “They’re already looking for you.”

Movius took his plate, sat on the cot. “Bu-Con?”

“No. Some organization we don’t recognize. Nobody knows who the men are.”

Movius thought about the efficiency of the LP grapevine, put the plate aside. “Nobody?”

London nodded. “We think it’s some special squad The Coor has imported. They’re not hunting for you by name. They’re just around asking if anyone answering your description has been seen. Some of them have pictures.”

“Has my order to the ALP gone out?”

“On the morning round-up. It’ll be in the District Circulars by tonight.”

“If The Coor’s special squad…”

“You’re worried about answering the Bu-Trans order if and when it comes out.” London narrowed his eyes. “If you were married right away…”

Movius had picked up his plate, started to resume eating. He looked up sharply. “How’s that?”

“You come out of hiding with a wife.”

“What good would that do me?”

London bent forward, stood up slowly, stiffly. “You could claim your nuptial off-time. If they dared bring up the ALP thing, you could say you weren’t very attentive right after being married. The worst Bu-Con magistrate in the city wouldn’t dare say anything after that, especially with you reporting for legal orders.”

“I’m not worried about the magistrates.”

“There’s another aspect to it: Glass might pass you by if you were married—out of the running, so to speak.”

“Even after I killed one of his bully boys, maimed two others and shot a Bu-Con operative?” Movius put his plate on a box, got to his feet.

London looked toward the door. “They can’t prove it was you.” He turned back. “We’ll fix you up with an alibi.”

Movius shook his head. “It’s no good. If The Coor wants me badly enough, he’ll go on trying until he gets me… or until I get him.”

“Glass isn’t the only big man in the government,” said London.

“Are you referring to that pipsqueak O’Brien?”

London put a hand over his mouth, removed it. “No, I was referring to Warren Gerard.”

“That CR-14 thing?”

“Yes. Glass is afraid of Gerard. If you can get Gerard to back you, The Coor may call off his dogs.”

Movius looked skeptical. “He may not, too.”

“That’s the chance we take.”