Democracy as practiced in the twentieth century failed because it could not cope with the dynamic tyranny of the Communist powers. This failure had its roots firmly anchored by the end of the third decade of that century and, though there was a period in the sixties and seventies when détente looked promising, the deteriorating world situation with regard to population and ecology brought the failure into focus. Even the formation of the North American League - comprising Canada, the United States of America and Mexico - on the eve of the twenty-first century could not stop democracy’s decline. The Congress of the N.A.L. argued and filibustered, but could not agree on any effective action to contain the enemy that was rapidly devouring the so-called Third World of developing nations. The Russo-Chinese War, which had at first looked like a boon to the democratic powers, actually served to strengthen the Soviet Union, honing their skills and whetting their appetites for bigger game. With no other rivals to his ideological leadership, the Premier of Russia could act. He issued orders, the recipients of which either obeyed them or were promptly shot.
(vanMees, History of Civilization, Reel 21, slot 1077.)
The laser beam that was to guide them in was weak, indicating that it was coming from a considerable distance away. While Yvette stood guard against any possible sneak attacks, Jules fiddled with the control panel to convert their ‘car’ into an atomic powered jet capable of speeds up to a thousand kilometers an hour. As they burned their way through the atmosphere, heading southeast, the male d’Alembert kept a close watch on his ultra sensitive radar screens to avoid any other aircraft.
‘I wonder where we’re going,’ Yvette said after a few minutes of flight.
‘Well, it can’t be more than four hundred and fifty kilometers away, or they wouldn’t be able to reach us with a straight-line laser beam. Our bearing indicates Miami - there’s nothing beyond that in this direction but ocean.’
‘Headquarters could be on a floating platform or in some undersea base,’ Yvette speculated. ‘Or it could be in some isolated spot between here and Miami.’
‘Possibly. We’ll just have to wait a few minutes more to find out.’
But as the minutes passed it became more and more apparent to them that Miami was indeed their goal.
For twenty minutes they slid down the beam, slowly losing altitude as they did so. The half-hour stun Jules had given their two passengers would be wearing off shortly, and he was considering giving them an extra short jolt when their target came into view. Slowing down to gain maneuverability, the d’Alemberts looked the site over.
The building was enormous, at least ninety stories high and towering over its closest rival by almost forty floors. Bright floodlights at the base kept the lower half of the structure constantly lit as bright as daylight and, even though this was an extremely late hour of the night, more than half the windows in the broad side of the building were lit. The silhouettes of people working could be seen passing by many ,of the open windows.
‘Impressive place,’ Yvette commented.
‘Scan it before we go in. I’d like to know where-we’re headed.’ He pulled the car to a stop while they were still a kilometer away from the building, and there they hovered for several seconds while Yvette completed her check.
Switching on her special sensing equipment, she scrutinized the building from top to bottom. ‘The place is armed like a fortress. Big guns, probably capable of knocking out a cruiser, but they’re all well hidden. They’re all warm, but none of them are fully energized at the moment.’
Jules considered that. ‘That doesn’t tell us any m ore than we could have guessed by ourselves. Headquarters would certainly be armed that way; the enemy camp might be, as well. How about visual? What building is that, anyway?’
Yvette switched easily to a magnified TV picture. ‘Hall of State, Sector Four.
That would make sense. Four has always been the most loyal sector, and State would be the best place to hide the Service.’
‘Check. Where’s our beam coming from?’
‘Rooftop. There’s a small broadcaster located in a circle of light. I see one human figure standing in the circle, and infra shows one other person standing in the darkness out side that ring.’
‘What do you think?’
‘I’d risk it,’ Yvette said without hesitation.
‘We’ve got no choice, really.’ Jules stroked his chin. ‘We have no other leads, no where else to go but home. Alors, in we go. Just keep your hand on the launchers, in case.’
Jules approached gingerly, heading for that spot of light on the roof. As they came nearer, the figure standing in the light grew more distinct. It was a girl, young and skinny - though not too bad looking for an Earther, Jules thought. She had long black hair that fell halfway down her back, and was wearing a beige sweater dress and brown tights. She had a throat-mike around her neck - and two heavy-duty Mark Twenty-Nine Service blasters in her hands.
After dropping the car to within two hundred meters, Jules stopped and hovered in the air over the girl’s head and waited for her to make the next move. When she saw that he was coming no closer, her highly distinctive, throaty contralto voice came again from the speaker. ‘It’s safe to talk now if we don’t say too much. Are you armed?’
‘Yes.’ Jules, as per her suggestion, was not saying too much.
‘Good. You won’t need these, then.’ The girl walked out into the very c enter of the ring of light, put the brutal hand weapons down on the roof and stepped back to her former position. In essence, she was disarming herself and putting herself at their mercy - a gesture they would have appreciated were it not for the person on the roof who, according to their sensors, was still in the darkness.
‘You recognize my voice, of course,’ the girl went on. ‘Yes.’ Jules was getting by on as little conversation as possible. Yvette kept silent; so far, only Jules’ voice had been broadcast. It might be of some advantage if potential enemies thought there was only one person in the car.
‘I suppose you have a retinascope,’ the girl went on. ‘Yes. Hold on a minute.’ He switched off the corn and turned to his sister. ‘What do you think of this?’
‘They want us to identify someone by retinal pattern. But the only person we have a comparison disk on is the Head himself. 1f they’re the genuine article, they’ll know that.’
‘Which means that either the girl or her friend in the shadows is the Head - and that means we’ll have to rough up our boss a bit before we can establish his identity.’
Yvette bit her lip. ‘Well, they have to convince us about themselves one way or another, and that would do it. Besides, what else can we do?’
‘Nothing,’ Jules agreed, and again flipped the blue switch. ‘Go ahead. What do you suggest?’
‘Land anywhere you please and one person will come aboard. Unarmed.’
‘Khorosho,will do.’ Jules dropped down outside of the illuminated circle and, stun-gun in hand, opened the port on his sister’s side.
The person who had been standing in the shadow approached slowly. All that could be seen of him in the dark ness as he came near with empty hands outstretched was that he was a man of medium height, medium build, and that he was almost completely bald. He put his hands in through the port and Yvette, taking one of his wrists in each hand, helped him through the narrow opening. The front compartment of the car was now quite cramped, so the d’Alemberts weren’t too worried about violence from this gentle- looking man. Nevertheless, Yvette held him securely, his arms behind his back, while Jules applied the retinascope to the Earthman’s right eye.
Jules took a long time comparing the actual eye pattern to the one recorded on the card his father had given him. But there could be no mistake - they were identical. Almost reverentially he whispered, ‘The Head himself. I’m sorry, sir...’
At Jules’ acknowledgement of the man’s identity, Yvette immediately released her hold on him and offered a similar apology. The Head stretched his arms to limber them up again in the narrow confines of the front compartment, then laughed deeply as he said, ‘Think nothing of it. If you’d acted any differently you wouldn’t have been the right people for the job. As it is, Jules, I’m very glad indeed to meet you in the flesh,’ and the two men shook hands vigorously- with Jules being careful not to squeeze too hard, for fear of shattering his boss’s hand.
‘And you too, Yvette, my dear,’ the Head continued. Taking her hand, he kissed it in as courtly a fashion as if that tiny, cramped compartment were the Imperial Ballroom itself. ‘And now - purely a formality, of course - the eyes. Yvette first, please,’ and he handed her the retinascope.
She was a little surprised as she fitted the device to her eye. ‘But you didn’t put any disk in,’ she said. ‘Surely, sir, you don’t...’
‘I surely do.’ He studied her pattern briefly, then switched the ‘scope over to her brother and studied his. ‘I don’t know very many patterns, of course; but Jules and Yvette d’Alembert? You’re too modest altogether, my dear.’
‘But ... but why should you bother to memorize our patterns?’ Yvette continued to protest. ‘We haven’t really ever done anything for you yet, just a couple of small assignments.’
‘As has been said of acting, there are no small assignments, only small performers. Jules, of course, is the only living person to achieve a perfect score on the thousand point test - and Yvette, your nine ninety- nine was, shall we say, exceptional?’ The test to which he referred was one administered to all SOTE agents during their training. It tested logical capacity, physical agility, reflexes, intuition and a host of other subtle qualities needed by a good agent.
‘It’s true,’ he continued, ‘that I haven’t given you any major assignments so far, for much the same reason that you don’t use cannons to kill mosquitoes.’ His face clouded over. ‘Perhaps I waited too long to get you involved in this case, hoping it could be solved by lesser means.’ Then the cloud vanished as he forced himself into a better mood. ‘But you’re both here now, and perhaps you’ll end up wishing you’d stayed strictly with the Circus.’
He reached over and flipped the blue switch for the com unit. ‘Still safe out there, Helena?’ he asked the girl, who had not moved from the circle of light.
‘Still safe, Father,’ the girl radioed back, and began to walk toward the car. ‘Nothing suspicious, Detection tells me, within five hundred kilometers of here.’
‘Fine,’ Jules said, opening the door for them to get out of their cramped quarters. ‘I was hoping we were fast enough to get away smooth, but I couldn’t be sure. Now, sir, about our guests,’ and he jerked a thumb toward the rear compartment where the prisoners were sleeping off the effects of Jules’ stunner.
‘Ah, yes. I’ve been wondering about them. The reports were confused and contradictory.’
‘I’m not surprised; it happened pretty fast. That one,’ Jules pointed, ‘is probably only a low-bred beambat who doesn’t know a thing. The other one may not know any thing or he may know a lot, it’s hard to tell.’ He related, in a very few words, about the too-imperturbable observer of the brawl. He finished: ‘So our secret rendezvous was no secret.’
The Head’s face looked grim. ‘I see.’ He raised his left wrist to his lips, and the d’Alemberts could see that he wore an ultra miniaturized com unit strapped on there. ‘Colonel Crandon.’
‘Yes, sir?’ came the prompt response.
‘Be on the roof in exactly two minutes. You’ll find two men w ho received number three stunbeams about twenty-five minutes ago. They’re in the rear compartment of a Mark Forty One Service Special near Space Jay Twelve. Revive them, find out what they know and report.’
‘Very well, sir.’
The Head led the way over to an elevator tube. ‘Come along,’ he said. ‘I don’t want anyone but Helena and I to see you two. Your identities are - I hope - still secret, and I’d like to keep it that way.’ Jules and Yvette followed their boss to the tube, with the girl named Helena coming after them.
Cushions of air materialized under their feet and dropped them down to the thirty-first floor, where a door opened in front of them and they entered what was very obviously the private office of an exceedingly important man.
The room was fairly large, furnished richly but quietly. The entire eastern wall was a large picture window, looking down upon the sleeping city of Miami and out beyond to the dark blot that was the Atlantic Ocean.
The brown rug was thick and luxurious, while the beamed ceiling was of beautifully grained brown solentawood and the paneled walls were of the same fine, almost metal-hard wood. Original oil paintings by some of the most noted artists of the day adorned those walls, except for the one behind the large solentawood desk. On that wall was inlaid the gold-crowned Shield of Empire, its double-headed eagle gleaming even in the subdued indirect lighting.
The Head went immediately to his desk and turned a dial. Gold curtains swept soundlessly into place. covering the picture window. Jules and Yvette guessed - correctly - that the Head didn’t want to take any chances of having telephoto pictures taken of this pair of his top operatives.
‘Now we can talk,’ said the girl behind them. Then, holding out her hand to Jules, said, ‘I’m Duchess ...
Oh, excuse that, please!’ She flushed hotly as Jules knelt to kiss her hand in true Court style. Standing there with a red face until he finished, she then proceeded to shake hands cordially with both Jules and Yvette.
‘She should blush, friends,’ the Head said, but with no more than mild reproof in his voice. ‘But she hasn’t been in the Service very long.’ Turning to the girl, he went on, ‘Outside titles mean little in here. You are merely the Head’s Girl Friday, my dear. Our guests are of the thinnest upper crust of the entire Service; their worth to the Crown is immeasurable - far beyond any number of duchesses. We’ll sit down now, please, and Helena will pour. She knows my usual.’ He cocked an eyebrow at his two agents. ‘Yours?’
‘Orange juice, please,’ Yvette said promptly, and Jules chimed in with, ‘Lemonade, please, if you have it handy.’ Helena cast them a quizzical glance, which the Head noted with a smile. ‘Our guests are from DesPlaines,’ he told her. ‘Their bodies don’t tolerate alcohol very well.’
Helena pursed her mouth into a small oh and proceeded to mix the requested beverages. The one she poured for herself looked like some sort of cream liqueur. When the glasses were distributed, the four people sat back in their chairs to discuss their current problem.
‘The attack on you two was a complete surprise,’ the Head said in a quiet voice. ‘No leak, nothing irregular was even suspected until the man who was to bring you here to me was killed. The connection between this business and the matter that brought you to Earth is clear. In that context, it’s a highly pleasing thought that the opposition knows nothing of you or of the Circus. You agree?’
‘I agree, sir,’ Jules said, and Yvette nodded her concurrence.
But Helena was puzzled. ‘How can it follow that they don’t know, Father?’
‘The d’Alemberts are new to you because there is no record anywhere of any connection between them and us. The Circus has been SOTE’s primary weapon ever since the Service’s formation, but no record of that fact has ever been written down. Except for this surprise attack, even you would not be learning all the details now. I’ll go into more detail after they leave, but for the present I’ll simply state as a fact that no one who knows anything about them would send only eight people against Jules and Yvette d’Alembert. Or, if only eight, all eight would have fired simultaneously at them and on sight, instead of burning the contact man first. That shows that they were more afraid of the Service here than of the supposed Delfian agents - a fatal error.’
‘Oh, I see excuse me, please, for interrupting.’
‘That’s quite all right. It’s part of your education, Girl Friday.’
‘But even if they didn’t know exactly about us,’ Yvette pointed out, ‘they d id know that something was supposed to happen. There was a leak and we have to plug it - fast.’
‘Right,’ Jules said. ‘Who knew about the meeting?’
The Head began checking them off on his fingers. ‘There’s me; I rule out that possibility. There’s the two of you; you weren’t too likely to set yourselves up to be killed. There’s your father, the Duke; if he wanted to kill you, he could have done it at the Circus and made it look like an accident, without tipping his hand in this clumsy a manner. There’s Sarbatte, the agent who was to contact you; I suppose he’s a possibility, even though they killed him. He might have told them about the meeting thinking they would just kill you, and they decided to kill him too to make it look good. It’s unlikely, but possible.’
‘What about her?’ Jules calmly pointed at Helena with the hand holding his glass.
The Girl Friday blushed and shook her head. Her father took the accusation in stride. Not possible. She knew that the Circus was somehow involved, but I never told her about either you or the meeting. I only enlisted her help the instant we heard about the mini-riot at the Dunedin Arms, because I knew I could trust her.’
‘Anyone else know?’ Yvette prodded.
The Head frowned. ‘Sarbatte’s superior, Colonel Grandon. He’s the chief of our entire Internal Security division. I wanted the building on alert just in case the opposition tried something.’
‘Isn’t he the one you sent up to the roof to pick up our two prisoners?’ Jules asked.
The entire scene froze as each of the four people in that room realized what might be happening. Decisively, the Head stabbed out a finger and activated a TV monitor on his desk. An adjustment of a dial brought an infrared view of the rooftop onto the screen.
There were now two cars on the roof. A man - it could only be Colonel Grandon was dragging an unconscious body from the d’Alembert vehicle to the other. ‘Grandon!’ the Head barked into a microphone. ‘Put that body down and report to my office immediately.’
Grandon jumped as the Head’s voice blared out at him from speakers on the rooftop. He looked around wildly for a moment; then, realizing he was still alone but being watched, he panicked. Moving quickly, he hauled the unconscious assassin over to the edge of the roof and pushed him out into air. Then, without waiting to watch the man fall ninety-three floors to his death, he ran back to his car, jumped in and fled at top speed.