Frank Herbert - High-Opp

Movius shook his head. “I’ve never heard of these people. I’ve never been in such a fight.”

Gerard leaned forward. The reflected image on the desk surface darted with him. “To hell with a street brawl! What’s this about Dan failing to report for the ALP?”

Movius noted the use of his first name and knew the familiarity was aimed at making Addington unsure of their relationship.

Addington flushed, spoke without looking up from the paper. “That was an error. He is not wanted on such a charge.”

Gerard said, “Oh?” He leaned back, turned to Movius. “Did you knock over this Pescado?”

“No.”

“You say you’ve been on your honeymoon,” said Addington. “Isn’t it a fact that you were hiding out instead?”

“Hiding from what?” asked Movius. He shrugged. “I have been staying pretty close to my bride, of course; except to come out and register my opps.”

Addington hunted through the briefcase, extracted another paper. “That’s another thing, Movius. You registered opps everywhere from Killson Warrenate to Lascadou.”

“Is there a law that says you have to register some special place?” asked Movius.

“You were never in these places,” said Addington.

“How do you know?” asked Movius.

“Because we…” Addington broke off.

Movius smiled. He thought of Gerard’s obvious hate for this man, decided to burn his bridges and play all out for Gerard. It was not difficult to put hate into his tone. “Look, you fat son-of-a-bitch!” he barked. “I’ve had all I’m taking from you! I’ve spent twelve years in the service of the government. Never once taken my off-time, always registered my opps, kept my nose clean. Two of your trained hounds put a gun on me downstairs and talked about killing me. I don’t know why I’m your target, but I’m telling you now to look out!” He glanced at the man he had thumbed. The aide had been edging toward Movius. “And if your brother here moves another inch toward me I’ll wipe up this office with him!” The aide took another involuntary step backwards.

“Put up or shut up,” said Gerard. “Unless you can prove your charges, I’m backing Dan all the way.”

Movius took a deep breath.

Addington glared at Gerard. “I have two witnesses.”

“No good.” Gerard shook his head. “Your friends know too much about lying. This has to be tied down with fingerprints, full laboratory evidence.”

“I saw him myself!” raged Addington.

“You’re an even bigger liar,” said Gerard.

Addington’s face went purple. “I suppose Movius has been put through ocamine so he can take a lie-detector test without a quiver?”

“I wouldn’t know,” said Gerard. “LD evidence won’t hold with me, anyway.” Gerard was obviously enjoying himself.

Addington leaned forward, face flushed. “You know this man is guilty! You’re just aiding him to spite me! I’m warning you…”

A buzzing sounded from beneath the desk, interrupting him. Gerard answered his phone, passed it across to Addington. “It’s for you, owl guts.”

Addington snatched the phone, said, “Yes, this is Addington.” He listened, smiled. “You have? Well, hold her there.” He passed the phone back to Gerard, still smiling, turned to Movius. “We have your bride. You’re coming with us now or else.”

Movius felt himself go almost blank. It was as though he watched another man rise slowly from his chair, take two steps toward Addington. The aide moved to cut him off.

“Movius!” It was Gerard’s voice.

The sharp tone of command restored some of Movius’ control. I got Grace into this , he thought. I can’t let them harm her. What can I do?

“Well?” asked Addington.

Movius fought to control his thoughts. How can I fight them? A desperate gamble flashed through his mind. He turned, walked around behind Gerard’s desk. From an inner pocket he withdrew his stylus, unscrewed the back cap, exposing the sharp edge of the re-load. Grasping Gerard’s hand, he made a short scratch on the back.

“Ouch!” Gerard put the hand to his mouth, darted his other hand toward a pocket.

Movius shook his head, put the stylus to his mouth, blew on it. Quietly, he capped the stylus, waited while he counted silently to fifteen. Addington and his aides were staring at him puzzled.

“I have just released a quantity of high-dispersion poison gas in this room sufficient to kill five hundred people,” said Movius. “Mr. Gerard and myself are immunized. In thirty minutes you three will die in agony, every muscle of your bodies tearing violently.” He put the stylus back in his inside pocket.

Addington jumped to his feet, leaned across the desk, bellowed at Gerard, “Stop this madman!”

Gerard leaned back. “Why should I? I won’t be harmed.”

One of Gerard’s hands remained beneath the desk. “And if you make a move to come around this desk, you’ll die much more quickly.”

“You have thirty minutes in which to bring my wife up here unharmed,” said Movius. “In fact, if the antidote is to have the time to work, you have less than that. About fifteen minutes is all.”

Gerard pushed the telephone across the desk. “I’d make the call if I were you.”

“He’s bluffing,” said Addington in a faint voice.

“I wouldn’t count on that,” said Gerard.

“I have heard of such a gas,” said Addington slowly.

“Bu-Trans has many resources,” said Gerard.

“So that’s the way it is?” said Addington. Face pale, he took up the phone. “Get me Pearsons at Bu-Con.” He waited. “Ev, bring the Movius woman over to Bu-Trans right away. Don’t ask questions; just bring her! Come right on up to bulb-head’s office with her.” He slammed the phone onto the desk, sat down.

Gerard quietly replaced the phone on its hook.

“The first thing you notice is your heart beating more rapidly and much stronger,” said Movius. “You become very aware of your heartbeat.”

The aide who had carried the briefcase suddenly paled, swayed, sat down in a hard-backed chair against the wall. He began to draw in deep breaths.

“Some people don’t have as high a tolerance as others,” said Movius. He noticed that both Addington and the other aide were forcing in deep breaths. The seated aide suddenly pitched forward to the floor with a loud thump.

Movius smiled. A little applied psychology plus a weak will equals a fainting spell, he thought. Now they’re convinced.

Addington jumped to his feet. “Give me that antidote! I’m a sick man! I can already feel my heart pounding!”

“When my wife gets here,” said Movius. “Not before.”

“Sit down,” said Gerard. “Exertion only makes the poison work faster.”

Addington slumped back into his chair, fumbled in a pocket, brought out a white pill which he put onto his tongue with a shaking hand. He flopped the pill into his mouth, gulped it. “You’re going to answer for this,” he said. He looked toward the door. “I should have told him to hurry.” He glanced at his wristwatch.

A knock sounded on the door. “Come in,” said Gerard.

The gladiator for the outer office appeared in the doorway, his bulk obscuring the view of whoever was behind him.

“Everybody come in,” said Gerard.

Gladiator stepped into the room, followed by Grace and a chunky, vapid-faced man with sadistic eyes. Grace—wrapped in a blanket, hair disheveled—had a short scratch on one cheek. Her eyes blazed fury. She shook herself free of vapid-face’s detaining hand, suddenly saw Movius. “Dan!”

“Everything’s all right, dear,” said Movius. He went around the desk, put an arm around her shoulders. “Did they harm you?”