Frank Herbert - High-Opp

She shook her head. “They were searching me.” She turned. “That creature and another one.”

Vapid-face licked his lips. “Nice,” he said, leering at Movius.

“You have your wife,” said Addington. “Give us the antidote.”

“You’re all breathing a poison gas for which Mr. Movius has the only antidote,” said Gerard, looking at vapid-face.

“Well?” said Addington.

“First put all your weapons on Mr. Gerard’s desk,” said Movius.

“See here!” said Addington.

“Do as he says!” barked Gerard, voice harsh.

Movius took out his stylus, made a minute scratch on the back of Grace’s hand, did the same for the gladiator.

“On the desk,” said Movius. He capped the stylus, put it away, began patting Addington’s pockets, stooped to feel along his legs. The Bu-Con chief wore one tiny fap gun strapped to an ankle and two others in pocket holsters. His gunman aide also had one on the ankle and two in the pockets. The clerk had one in a lapel holster. Vapid-face wore a poison dart stutter gun hanging from a shoulder strap inside his suit. A crease concealed the slit by which it could be brought out quickly.

Gerard’s eyes widened when he saw the weapon. “That’s outlawed,” he said.

“So it’s outlawed,” said Addington peevishly. “So’s poison gas.”

Movius put the weapons on the desk. Gerard swept them all into a drawer.

Movius bent over the unconscious clerk on the floor, made a deep slash in the back of the man’s hand with the sharp tip of the stylus. The clerk moaned, began to stir. Movius went to the gunman. Addington stepped forward. “I have to have that immediately!”

“After him,” said Movius.

Addington quivered, his eyes glittering behind the thick glasses.

Movius made a deep slash in the aide’s hand, grabbed Addington’s hand, made an even deeper slash. Vapid-face stepped forward, held out his hand. Movius ignored him, capped the stylus and put it back in his pocket.

“What about me?” the man asked.

Movius turned to Grace. “Are you sure they didn’t harm you?”

She blushed, broke off, and began to cry silently, to bring her hands from beneath the blanket to cover her face.

“What about me?” vapid-face repeated.

Movius’ face hardened. “You don’t get it.”

Addington whirled on Gerard. “You can’t let him just…”

“Dan is one of my most trusted aides,” said Gerard. “I give him a free hand in these matters. If he doesn’t think Ev should live, then I go by his judgment. Personally, I’m inclined to agree with him in this instance.”

Vapid-face pushed through the group, leaned against Gerard’s desk, face contorted. “You can’t do this to me!”

“You’re mistaken,” said Gerard coldly. “We’re doing it.”

The man sank to his knees, clutching the edge of the desk. “Please! Look! I’m begging you!”

Movius suddenly felt sickened.

“Give it to him” said Grace.

The man turned his contorted face toward her. “Thank you.”

Movius brought out the stylus, uncapped it, bent and slashed the kneeling man across the cheek. “I want to recognize you next time! If you so much as look cross-eyed at my wife ever again I’ll get you and you can beg until your voice runs dry!”

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.