John Brunner - The Squares of the City

If I did that, it would permanently mar my reputation; I had worked for a long time to reach my present level in my specialized profession, and to reject this much-envied job would be construed as a confession of inadequacy, no matter how sound my reasons—because those reasons were not professional ones.

From the financial viewpoint, I couldn’t afford to quit, anyway.

Well, I could get around the last objection somehow. The competition in the field of traffic analysis is seldom so strong that an expert (and I class myself as an expert) can’t make himself employment.

But what weighed heaviest with me at the moment, when I’d reviewed the matter from beginning to end, was this: that if I threw in the job now, it was certain that Angers or someone in the traffic department with a direct emotional involvement in the situation would be ordered to solve the problem to the taste of the government—or rather, of their well-to-do supporters. And Angers for a certainty would botch it.

Ultimately, I told myself, my only responsibility was to my own conscience. Whatever the other circumstances that affected me only indirectly, my job was to do the very best I could and ensure that no one suffered by my actions—or, if not no one, then the least possible number of people.

Carrying the memory of Senora Posador’s bittersweet smile, I went into the traffic department.

Angers’ greeting was curt, and after it he wasted no more time in preamble. “Where have you been, Hakluyt?” he demanded.

I looked at him in amazement. “Visiting a friend,” I said shortly. “Why?”

“Since when has Maria Posador qualified as a friend of yours? I thought I told you she was bad company for you.”

“So you’ve been having me watched,” I said coldly. “I rather thought so. You think I’ve been spending my time in bars, maybe? Think I’m not capable of doing my job unless someone keeps an eye on me? If that’s your opinion, you can damn well hire someone else—and I’ll personally see to it no reputable traffic analyst will come within a mile of the job!”

The snap I put into the words took the bluster out of Angers and made him adopt a more confidential manner. He sat back in his chair, sighing. “Look, Hakluyt, I know you’re not well posted on the situation in Vados—because if you were, you’d avoid Senora Posador like the plague. I have to admit you’re right about your being watched. We arranged it for your own sake. We’re afraid someone may try and—uh— put you out of the way, because to Tezol and Francis and the rest of the rabble-rousers who make up the National Party you’re a major menace.”

“If I’d been told before I accepted this job that I was going to be made into a football between two petty local political parties, I swear I’d never have set a foot in Aguazul,” I declared. “I’m seriously considering taking this as a breach of contract.”

I was, too; if I’d had the copy of the contract with me, I’d have shredded it into confetti and thrown it all over the office. I was suddenly blazing angry.

“Please!” said Angers. “I assure you that so long as you stick to the job you’re engaged to do, you’re in no danger at all. Only, in spite of my warnings, you’re doing just what I told you not to do—you’re getting emotionally involved. Senora Posador is a very beautiful and clever woman, and I’ve no doubt she sells a fine bill of goods. But let me tell you something about her she probably hasn’t told you herself.

“Her husband was the man Vados defeated at the election which brought him to power, and when he heard the news, he shot himself.”

A small cold hand seemed to take me by the scruff of the neck. “Go on,” I said, fishing for a cigarette.

“Well—uh—I suppose it’s only to be expected, because she was rather young at the time, twenty years ago, and not long married… But the fact is that her husband’s death preyed on her mind, and she’s supposed not to be very stable. She fled the country directly afterwards, with a few of her husband’s followers, and for a long time kept up a bombardment of slander about Vados’s regime from other countries. Of course, it eventually became obvious to everyone that there wasn’t a grain of truth in the accusations, and in the end—about five years ago, I suppose—Vados invited her to come back to Aguazul.

“Unfortunately, instead of taking this as a favor—and it was a pretty substantial act of clemency on Vados’s part, after all the things she’d spread about—she kept on trying to stir up trouble. If it weren’t for the fact that her husband had been a personal friend of Diaz even when they were political opponents, she’d probably not have been allowed to go on so long as she has. There is, of course, the argument that it’s better to have her here where one can keep an eye on her than let her go on with her underground subversion from across the border, but people are saying she’s overreached herself now, and it certainly wouldn’t be to your benefit to get involved with her if she does have to be taken down a peg.”

“That I didn’t know,” I said slowly. Angers sensed that I was in two minds, and pressed on.

“She’ll go to any lengths to discredit Vados, of course. She’s a very wealthy woman, and the rumor has it that she’s behind Tiempo, which is a rag if ever there was one, and if that’s so, then it’s only her private pull with Diaz that’s saved the paper from innumerable libel suits. The kind of dirt that Tiempo throws at the president and at government officials is hard to credit unless one sees it. However—” He produced his habitual cold smile. “I don’t think I need labor the point any longer. A word to the wise, and all that. Let’s get on to major business.

“Believe me,” he continued with sudden earnestness, “I don’t want to have to ask you to divert time from your work. It looks, though, as though it may be necessary. You heard— of course you did, from Caldwell—that Sigueiras has filed for an injunction to prevent us dispossessing him from his slum. Well, as usual when it’s a case of foreign-born versus native-born citizen, our secretary of justice, Gonzales, has insisted on an immediate preliminary hearing, and in fact the case is down on the calendar for today.

“We’ve got wind of the fact that Brown, who’s Sigueiras’s lawyer, intends to subpoena you as a witness.”

“Does he now?” I said neutrally.

“So we’re told. We thought we might take the wind out of his sails by asking you to appear as an expert witness on behalf of the city council. It would create an awfully bad impression if you were to appear for Sigueiras; people would jump to the conclusion you were on his side, no matter whether what you said was favorable to his case or not.”

I frowned. “I’m not sure that I fancy appearing for either side, to be honest,” I began.

Angers shrugged. “Oh, I shouldn’t worry unduly. We believe Brown is only trying to pull a stunt; if we call you as well, he’ll probably give up the idea and then there’ll be no need for you to appear at all. Brown’s an ingenious devil.”

“I’ve met him,” I said. “That’s the way he struck me.”

“Oh, yes. He’s handled a previous case for Sigueiras. And being a New Yorker, he has a great advantage—he conducts his examinations in English himself when the need arises, as well as in Spanish. Working through an interpreter has drawbacks, naturally. One has to admit he’s a most subtle lawyer, too. But Andres Lucas is leading for the city, so I don’t doubt which way the case will go. Lucas is far and away the best lawyer in Aguazul.”

“That’s the Lucas who’s secretary of Guerrero’s party?”

“That’s the man. He was largely responsible for drafting the charter of incorporation for the city, so when Brown comes up against him on a question of citizens’ rights, he’ll find he’s met a Tartar.”