by Rob Summers
Chapter 27 Power vs. Grace
When alone in his office, Mr. Power sometimes pushed a button underneath the edge of his desk, causing a huge television screen to appear on the opposite wall. Revealed was a live, remote picture of some sandy acres on the edge of town. Earthmovers, cranes, dump trucks, and bulldozers were lined up beside the lot, and a small army of hard hatted laborers stood at the ready. Mr. Power used his desktop phone system to give orders to these laborers, and the fun began.
While he watched, mountains of dirt rose at his command and at his command were removed; holes were dug and filled up again, while the laborers ran or drove here and there. Sometimes he caused a truck to be hooked by a crane and lifted to another part of the lot. Occasionally, a scurrying worker would barely avoid the crushing tires of one of the vehicles. Occasionally, a worker did not avoid the tires.
This day Power was interrupted by an intercom call from his secretary, Miss Abject. The Heavenly Ambassador was waiting to see him. No, he had no appointment. Yes, he said it was important. Considering the prestige of Grace, Power reluctantly signed off to his crew and pushed the button that caused the screen to disappear.
In a moment the ambassador entered, a lean and balding man in his sixties, his back straight and his manner cheerful. Power disliked him and felt that if he only knew him better he would despise him. This was partly because Grace was independent of Power’s vast authority.
Grace took a seat. “Good morning, Power. I won’t waste your time or mine with preliminaries. The fact is, I have to talk to you about young Pride, the boy who was dating Fame Vainglory for a few months.”
“What about him?” Power asked suspiciously.
“He’s been under a cloud, you know, since that unfortunate incident at Cruel’s.”
“He’s been under arrest,” Power corrected.
Grace cocked a white eyebrow. “He’s taking it hard, very hard. He’s so overwhelmed that he’s actually shown some interest in renouncing his citizenship and defecting to Heaven.”
“Small loss.”
“Yes, yes, and small gain for Heaven, or so you would say. In fact, a smaller gain for us than a loss for you. You lose the house; that is, the salvageable materials after it collapses. And you lose your standard fee from the Hellites for delivery of the homeless survivors. Oh yes, you call it ‘relocation’ in the propaganda, don’t you? But on the other hand if we get the house, well, what can we do with it? From a strictly material standpoint, all we get is the enormous expense of having it rebuilt after the Occupation. No, if Pride signs a Petition of Loyalty to our Lord, which he’s very likely to do—”
“What are you here for?” Power asked severely. “I’ve got better things to do than listen to rot about your King invading this country.”
“Just a digression,” Grace assured him, “I’ve come just about this small matter. When the Occupation actually begins, of course, there won’t be very much said to you.” He gestured toward a wall. “It’s so bare in here, Power. I really must recommend a little artwork, if only some prints. Something by Klee would bring that corner to life.”
Power’s hands clenched on the desk. “What about Pride?”
Grace leaned back and rubbed his eyes as if preparing for a nap. “Or perhaps Cezanne. One of his late watercolors would go well there. Yes, Pride. I’ve come to inform you that the Pride place is acceptable to us. And without the attentions of Miss Vainglory to, um, inspire him, young Pride is likely to sign it over as a necessary part of his petition. Once the title is transferred, you will need to make the necessary adjustments.”
“What adjustments?”
“The house and the property will become an extension of our embassy....”
“The devil!”
“Yes, an extension of our embassy. That’s foreign property to you, untaxable and not subject to your laws. Like the present embassy, Pride’s house will be a little parcel of Heaven right here in your city, owned free and clear by God our King. Naturally, the police officer who lives there will have to be withdrawn. Pride’s conviction will be reviewed by our courts, and—”
“Just a—just a minute! He can’t just drop out of his own country. And the embassy can’t expand without the permission of our government.”
The Ambassador folded his hands over one knee and beamed. “On the contrary,” he said. “That was all settled long ago, if you remember. Check the records. Your City Council voted against allowing the embassy to come here at all, but that didn’t keep us out.”
Power waved this away. “Ancient history.”
“No, it’s as up to date as the title to the land this city is built on, which has our Lord’s name on it. Embarrassing as it may be to you, I don’t hesitate to mention that your little squatter’s operation exists only by the temporary permission of our government, which owns this city. For clarity’s sake I’ve been speaking as if only the embassy belongs to us, but actually we own it all. Every penny you’ve made from it belongs to us. Our treasury department wants me to remind you that you owe us an astronomical debt. What would you have me tell them? That you’re being uncooperative about a minor defection?”
Power rose behind his desk. “This is a matter of our sovereignty being threatened. Our debt picture doesn’t enter into it. If it comes to that we’ll renege on the debt as a first act of war.”
Grace laughed softly. “Let me remind you that Heaven possesses an overwhelming military might. In the past, a small demonstration of our power has always been enough to overcome objections. If we require expansion of our embassy, or the harboring of defectors, we will simply do it, maugre your head. We’ll even accept other houses if the opportunity arises.”
Power was at last sure that he hated Grace.
“I’m not giving you any more foothold in this city than you’ve already got,” he said. “Now get out, you’re time’s up.”
Grace rose to leave, but he paused at the door.
“You might have let Pride have his way with that toy of yours, Miss Vainglory. That would have kept the boy out of our hands. I’m afraid your stinginess has come back to haunt you, Power.”
As soon as Grace closed the door, Power stabbed at the intercom button.
“Miss Abject!”
“Yes, Mr. Power?”
“Get me Vainglory. I have a priority assignment for her.”
