Douglas glanced down, looked up again. "Those warrants, if any, will not be served. As soon as I. can track them down they will be canceled."
"Thank you, sir."
Douglas glanced at Major Bloch. "You still insist on booking him locally?"
Jubal looked at him contemptuously. "Him? Oh, let him go, he's merely a fool in uniform. And let's forget the damages, too. You and I have more serious matters to discuss."
"You may go, Major." The S.S. officer saluted and left very abruptly. Douglas continued, "Counsellor, it is my thought that we now need conversations face to face. The matters you raise can hardly be settled over the telephone."
"I agree."
"You and your, uh, client will be my guests at the Palace. I'll send my yacht to pick you up. Can you be ready in an hour?"
Harshaw shook his head. "Thank you, Mr. Secretary. But that won't be necessary. We'll sleep here� and when it comes time to meet I'll dig up a dog sled, or something. No need to send your yacht."
Mr. Douglas frowned. "Come, Doctor! As you yourself pointed out, these conversations will be quasi-diplomatic in nature. In proffering proper protocol I have, in effect, conceded this. Therefore I must be allowed to provide official hospitality."
"Well, sir, I might point out that my client has had entirely too much official hospitality already - he had the Devil's own time getting shut of it."
Douglas' face became rigid. "Sir, are you implying-"
"I'm not implying anything. I'm simply saying that Smith has been through quite a lot and is not used to high-level ceremony. He'll sleep sounder here, where he feels at home. And so shall I. I am a crochety old man, sir, and I prefer my own bed. Or I might point out that our talks may break down and my client and I would be forced to look elsewhere - in which case I would find it embarrassing to be a guest under your roof."
The Secretary General looked very grim. "Threats again. I thought you trusted me, sir? And I distinctly heard you say that you were 'ready to negotiate.'"
"I do trust you, sir." (-about as far as I could throw a fit!) "And we are indeed ready to negotiate. But I use 'negotiate' in its original sense, not in this new-fangled meaning of 'appeasement.' However, we intend to be reasonable. But we can't start talks at once in any case; we're shy one factor and we must wait. How long, I don't know."
"What do you mean?"
"We expect the administration to be represented at these talks by whatever delegation you choose - and we have the same privilege."
"Surely. But let's keep it small. I shall handle this myself, with only an assistant or two. The Solicitor General, I think� and our experts in space law. But to transact business you require a small group - the smaller the better."
"Most certainly. Our group will be small Smith himself - myself - I'll bring a Fair Witness-"
"Oh, come now!"
"A Witness does not slow things up. I suggest you retain one also. We'll have one or two others perhaps - but we lack one key man. I have firm instructions from my client that a fellow named Ben Caxton must be present� and I can't find the beggar."
Jubal, having spent hours of most complex maneuvering in order to toss in this one remark, now waited with his best poker face to see what would happen. Douglas stared at him. 0 'Ben Caxton?' Surely you don't mean that cheap winchell?"
"The Ben Caxton I refer to is a newspaperman. He has a column with one of the syndicates."
"Absolutely out of the question!"
Harshaw shook his head. "Then that's all, Mr. Secretary. My instructions are firm and give me no leeway. I'm sorry to have wasted your time. I beg to be excused now." He reached out as if to switch off the phone.
"Hold it."
"Sir?"
"Don't cut that circuit; I'm not through speaking to you!"
"I most humbly beg the Secretary General's pardon. We will, of course, wait until he excuses us."
"Yes, yes, but never mind the formality. Doctor, do you read the tripe that comes out of this Capitol labeled as news?"
"Good Heavens, no!"
"I wish I didn't have to. It's preposterous to talk about having a journalist present at these talks in any case. We'll let them in later, after everything is settled. But even if we were to have any of them present, Caxton would not be one of them. The man is utterly poisonous� a keyhole sniffer of the worst sort."
"Mr. Secretary, we have no objection to the full glare of publicity throughout. In fact, we shall insist on it."
"Ridiculous!"
"Possibly. But I serve my client as I think best. If we reach agreement affecting the Man from Mars and the planet which is his home, I want every person on this planet to have opportunity to know exactly how it was done and what was agreed. Contrariwise, if we fail to agree, people must hear how and where the talks broke down. There will be no star chamber proceedings, Mr. Secretary."
"Damn it, man, I wasn't speaking of a star chamber and you know it! I simply meant quiet, orderly talks without our elbows being jostled!"
"Then let the press in, sir, through their cameras and microphones but with their feet and elbows outside. Which reminds me - we will be interviewed, my client and I, over one of the networks later today - and I shall announce that we want full publicity on these coming talks."
"What? You mustn't give out interviews now - why, that's contrary to the whole spirit of this discussion."
"I can't see that it is. We won't discuss this private conversation, of course - but are you suggesting that a private citizen must have your permission to speak to the press?"
"No, of course not, but-"
"I'm afraid it's too late, in any case. The arrangements have all been made and the only way you could stop it now would be by sending more carloads of your thugs - with or without warrants. But I'm afraid they would be too late, even so. My only reason for mentioning it is that it occurs to me that you might wish to give out a news release - in advance of this coming interview - telling the public that the Man from Mars has returned from his retreat in the Andes� and is now vacationing in the Poconos. So as to avoid any possible appearance that the government was taken by surprise. You follow me?"
"I follow you - quite well." The Secretary General stared silently at Harshaw for several moments, then said, "Please wait." He left the screen entirely.
Harshaw motioned Larry to him while he reached up with his other hand and covered the telephone's sound pickup. "Look, son," he whispered, "with that transceiver out I'm bluffing on a busted flush. I don't know whether he's left to issue that news release I suggested� or has gone to set the dogs on us again while he keeps me tied up on the phone. And I won't know, either way. You high tail it out of here, get Tom Mackenzie on the phone, and tell him that if be doesn't get the setup here working at once, he's going to miss the biggest story since the Fall of Troy. Then be careful coming home - there may be cops crawling out of the cracks."
"Got it. But how do I call Mackenzie?"
"Uh-" Douglas was just sitting back down on screen. "Speak to Miriam. Git."
"Dr. Harshaw, I took your suggestion. A news release much as you worded it� plus a few substantiating details." Douglas smiled warmly in a good simulation of his homespun public persona. "And there is no use in half measures. I can see that, if you insist on publicity, there is no way to stop you, foolish as it is to hold exploratory talks in public. So I added to the release that the administration had arranged to discuss future interplanetary relations with the Man from Mars - as soon as he had rested from his trip - and would do so publicly� quite publicly." His smile became chilly and he stopped looking like good old Joe Douglas.
Harshaw grinned jovially, in honest admiration - why, the old thief had managed to roll with the punch and turn a defeat into a coup for the administration. "That's just perfect, Mr. Secretary! Much better if such matters come officially from the government. We'll back you right down the line!"
"Thank you. Now about this Caxton person- Letting the press in does not apply to him. He
can sit at home, watch it over stereovision, and make up his lies from that - and no doubt he will. But he will not be present at the talks. I'm sorry. No."
"Then there will be no talks. Mr. Secretary, no matter what you have told the press."
"I don't believe you understand me, Counsellor. This man is offensive to me. Personal privilege."
"You are correct, sir. It is a matter of personal privilege."
"Then we'll say no more about it."
"You misunderstand me. It is indeed personal privilege. But not yours. Smith's."
"You are privileged to select your advisers to be present at these talks - and you can fetch the Devil himself and we shall not complain. Smith is privileged to select his advisers and have them present. If Caxton is not present, we will not be there. In fact, you will find us across the street, at some quite different conference. One where you won't be welcome, Even if you speak fluent Hindi. Now do you understand me?"
There was a long silence, during which Harshaw thought clinically that a man of Douglas' age really should not indulge in such evident rage. Douglas did not leave the screen but he consulted offscreen and silently. At last he spoke to the Man from Mars.
Mike had stayed on screen the whole time, as silently and at least as patiently as the Witness. Douglas said to him, "Smith, why do you insist on this ridiculous condition?"
Harshaw put a hand on Mike and said instantly, "Don't answer, Mike!" -then to Douglas: "Tut, tut, Mr. Secretary! The Canons, please! You may not inquire why my client has instructed me. And let me add that the Canons are violated with exceptional grievance in that my client has but lately learned English and cannot be expected to hold his own against you. If you will first take the trouble to learn Martian, I may permit you to put the question again� in his language. Or I may not. But certainly not today."
Douglas sighed. "Very well. It might be pertinent to inquire into what Canons you have played fast and loose with, too - but I haven't time; I have a government to run. I yield. But don't expect me to shake hands with this Caxton!"
"As you wish, sir. Now back to the first point. We are held up. I haven't been able to find Caxton. His office says that he is out of town."
Douglas laughed. "That's hardly my problem. You insisted on a privilege - one I find personally offensive. Bring whom you like. But round them up yourself."
"Reasonable, sir, very reasonable. But would you be willing to do the Man from Mars a favor?"
"Eh? What favor?"
"The talks will not begin until Caxton is located - that is flat and is not subject to argument. But I have not been able to find him� and my client is getting restive. I am merely a private citizen� but you have resources."
"What do you mean?"
"Some minutes ago I spoke rather disparagingly of the Special Service squadrons - check it off to the not unnatural irk of a man who has just had his front door broken down. But in truth I know that they can be amazingly efficient� and they have the ready cooperation of police forces everywhere, local, state, national, and all Federation departments and bureaus. Mr. Secretary, if you were to call in your S.S. Commandant and tell him that you were anxious to locate a certain man as quickly as was humanly possible - well, sir, it would produce more meaningful activity in the next hour than I myself could hope to produce in a century."
"Why on Earth should I alert all police forces everywhere to find one scandal-mongering reporter?"
"Not 'on Earth,' my dear sir - on Mars. I asked you to regard this as a favor to the Man from Mars."
"Well�it's a preposterous request but I'll go along." Douglas looked directly at Mike. "As a favor to Smith, only. But I shall expect similar cooperation when we get down to cases."
"You have my assurance that it will ease the situation enormously."
"Well, I can't promise anything. You say the man is missing. If he is, he may have fallen in front of a truck; he may be dead - and I, for one, would not mourn."
Harshaw looked very grave. "Let us hope not, for all of our sakes."
"What do you mean?"
"I've tried to point out that sad possibility to my client - but it is like shouting into the wind. He simply won't listen to the idea." Harshaw sighed. "A shambles, sir. If we can't find this Caxton, that is what we will both have on our bands: a shambles."
"Well, I'll try. But don't expect miracles, Doctor."
"Not I, sir. My client. He has the Martian viewpoint� and he does expect miracles. So let's pray for one."
"You'll hear from me. That's all I can say."
Harshaw bowed without getting up. "Your servant, sir."
As the Secretary General's image cleared from the screen Jubal sighed and stood up, and at once found Gillian's arms around his neck. "Oh, Jubal, you were wonderful!"
"We aren't out of the woods yet, child."
"I know. But if anything can save Ben, you've just done it." She kissed him.
"Hey, none of that stuff'! I swore off smooching before you were born. So kindly show respect for my years." He kissed her carefully and thoroughly. "That's just to take the taste of Douglas out of my mouth - between kicking him and kissing him I was getting nauseated. Now go smooch Mike instead. He deserves it - for holding still to my damned lies."
"Oh, I shall!" Jill let go of Harshaw, put her arms around the Man from Mars. "Such wonderful lies, Jubal!" She kissed Mike.
Jubal watched with deep interest as Mike initiated a second section of the kiss himself, performing it very solemnly but not quite as a novice - clumsy, Harshaw decided, but he did not bump noses nor hang back. Harshaw awarded him a B-minus, with an A for effort.
"Son," he said, "you continue to amaze me. I would have expected that to cause you to curl up in one of your faints."
"I so did," Mike answered seriously, without letting go of Jill, "on the first kissing time."
"Well! Congratulations, Jill. A.C., or D.C.?"
She looked at Harshaw. "Jubal, you're a tease but I love you anyhow and refuse to let you get my goat. Mike got a little upset once - but no longer, as you can see."
"Yes," Mike agreed, "it is a goodness. For water brothers it is a growing-closer. I will show you. Yes?" He let go of Jill.
Jubal hastily put up a palm. "No."
"No?"
"Don't be hurt. But you would be disappointed, son. It's a growing closer for water brothers only if they are young girls and pretty - such as Jill."
"My brother Jubal, you speak rightly?"
"I speak very rightly. Kiss girls all you want to - it beats the hell out of card games."
"Beg pardon?"
"It's a fine way to grow closer� but just with girls. Hmmm� Jubal looked around the room. "I wonder if that first-time phenomenon would repeat? Dorcas, I want your help in a scientific experiment."
"Boss, I am not a guinea pig! You go to hell."
"In due course, I shall. Don't be difficult, girl; Mike has no communicable diseases, or I wouldn't let him use the pool - which reminds me: Miriam, when Larry gets back, tell him I want the pool drained and refilled tonight - we're through with murkiness. Well, Dorcas?"
"How do you know it would be our first time?" "Mmm, there's that. Mike, have you ever kissed Dorcas?"
"No, Jubal. Only today did I learn that Dorcas is my water brother."
"She is?"
"Yes. Dorcas and Anne and Miriam and Larry. They are your water brothers, my brother Jubal."
"Mmm, yes. Correct in essence."
"Yes. It is essence, the grokking - not sharing of water. I speak rightly?"
"Very rightly, Mike."
"They are your water brothers." Mike paused to think words. "In catenative assemblage, they are my brothers." Mike looked at Dorcas. "For brothers, growing-closer is good. But I did not know."
Jubal said, "Well, Dorcas?"
"Huh? Oh, Heavens! Boss, you're the world's worst tease. But Mike isn't teasing. He's sweet." She walked up to him, stood on tiptoes, and held up her arms. "Kiss me, Mike."
Dorcas fainted.
Jubal spotted it and kept her from falling, Mike being far too inexperienced to cope with it. Then Jill had to speak sharply to Mike to keep him from trembling into withdrawal when he saw what had happened to Dorcas. Luckily Dorcas came out of it shortly and was able to reassure Mike that she was all right, that she had indeed "grown closer" and would happily grow closer again - but she needed to catch her breath. "Whew!"
Miriam had watched round-eyed. "I wonder if I dare risk it?"
Anne said, "By seniority, please. Boss, are you through with me as a Witness?"
"For the time being, at least."
"Then hold my cloak." She slipped out of it. "Want to bet on it?"
"Which way?"
"I'll give you seven-to-two I don't faint - but I wouldn't mind losing."
"Done."
"Dollars, not hundreds. Mike dear� let's grow lots closer."
In time Anne was forced to give up through simple hypoxia, although Mike, with his Martian training, could have gone without oxygen much longer. She gasped for air and said, "I don't think I was set just right. Boss, I'm going to give you another chance for your money."
She started to offer her face again but Miriam tapped her on the shoulder. "Out."
"Don't be so eager."
"'Out,' I said. The foot of the line for you, wench," Miriam insisted.
"Oh, well!" Anne pecked Mike hastily and gave way. Miriam moved in, smiled at him, and said nothing. It was not necessary; they grew close and continued to grow closer.
"Front!"
Miriam looked around. "Boss, can't you see I'm busy?"
"All right, all right! But get out of the pickup angle - I'll answer the phone myself."
"Honest, I didn't even hear it."
"Obviously. But for a while we've got to pretend to a modicum of dignity around here - it might be the Secretary General. So get out of range."
But it was Mr. Mackenzie. "Jubal, what in the devil is going on?"
"Trouble?"
"A short while ago I got a wild phone call from a young man claiming to speak for you who urged me to drop everything and get cracking, because you've finally got something for me. Since I had already ordered a mobile unit to your place-"
A Stranger in a Strange Land Page 25
