None But Lucifer

Chapter XVIII

Gloria sat in her easy-chair knitting. You may think that knitting needles are silent. Hale found they weren't. They have a metallic click, shrill enough to make itself heard over every other sound. That is bad enough, but occasionally they halt while the knitterpicks up a dropped stitch, and you grit your teeth and wait for the deadly click, click, click to resume.

Hale knew he was getting neurotic. He detested himself for his weakness, but saw no way of correcting it. Who, in his predicament, wouldn't feel helpless and incompetent? From behind that desk, Johnson had been able to draw in all the complex threads of greed, hope, ambition and fear, and by pulling the correct thread to rule the world.

Out in the loft were the baffling index cabinets, waiting passively to give up their universal knowledge. But Hale cringed at the thought of approaching them. All around the private office were tall, gloomy bookshelves filled with volumes on law, medicine, science, government, economics, statistics; revolutionary, counter-revolutionary, and status-quo propaganda; lists of pressure groups, with their methods and aims and weaknesses; encyclopedias, year-books — everything was there for him — everything that is, but skill and understanding.

He forced his mind to attack the problem calmly, one thing at a time. "Right now the men in power are strong interventionists, with all the prestige of office and the means of propaganda at their disposal. On my side, the isolationists are divided and spread all over the country. The idea is to get all these scattered isolationists together."

The telephone rang. "Mr. William Hale?"

"Yeah."

"Transatlantic telephone call. Will you please stay near our telephone until we connect your party? Thank you."

It was Johnson, of course, perhaps calling to jeer at him.

"Hello. Hale speaking."

"Hello, William!" Johnson's cheerful, very human voice responded. "I must say it's certainly fine to hear you. How are you?"

"You know how I am," Hale snapped, and was instantly sorry.

For Johnson said: "Oh, I'm sorry, William. I wish I could do something to make you less miserable." The voice brightened. "At any rate, I've given you something to take your mind off yourself. You know I could have done the job myself without much trouble, but it was you I was worried about. How are you progressing?"

"Lousy."

"I know. I'm sorry to hear it. But cheer up; it doesn't matter very much. The main thing is getting your mind off your personal worries, and practicing up a bit in practical ruling. Do you know why you're not progressing, William?"

"Yeah, I'm just a flop that's all. Any time you want to unload me, go ahead. I can't even run my own life right."

"Oh, come, William! I can't very well do that. An efficient businessman lives up to his word. What confidence would you have in me if I broke our contract simply because you don't know all I know? No, William. When I make a contract, I regard it as an unbreakable obligation, just as any other responsible businessman —"

"O.K.," Hale broke in to stop the flow of words. "I get you."

"Splendid. I want us to understand each other. Now, putting aside the notion that you are a failure, let us consider why you are not progressing. You remember the letter I wrote you, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"Did you read it carefully? I think you missed something. You see, William, I've had daily reports of your activities sent here, so I could correct your mistakes whenever necessary. I don't want you to feel hurt or think I'm snooping. Nothing of the sort. Any efficient businessman takes pains to see that his associates are doing their jobs as well as possible, for the sake of the business.

"The point you missed is that I didn't ask you to create opposition. That is unnecessary, because it already exists. All that is lacking is centralization and direction, plus some other vital element I want you to discover for yourself."

Hale squirmed in his chair. "I tried to get the businessmen's leagues to fight, because I knew they were already opposed —"

"The idea was correct," Johnson soothed, 'but the application wasn't. To weld the businessmen's leagues into a single organization would require creating the entire organization; and that isn't worth the trouble, even if it were in line with my policies. An effective organization, with all the necessary contacts, already exists.

"Why don't you look in my files, William? If you're going to oppose the government, why don't you employ an organization that is either part of the government or very close to it?"

"You mean ... lobbies? But they're doing all they can."

"Certainly," the smooth, confident voice replied. "And it's evident that they aren't succeeding too well. Why? Obviously, some important part of their equipment is lacking. Your task is to supply that equipment, but remember ... indirection and the cheapest, swiftest means!

"Another point ... I must hurry; our time is almost up. Under no circumstances should you compromise an organization that might be useful in the future. Choose a basis for opposition that will not arouse sufficient criticism to destroy your ally. America, obviously, must be defended; therefore, you can't oppose on contrary grounds. That would be treason. So you must oppose for a convincing yet patriotic reason —"

The operator's voice interrupted: "Your three minutes are over, sir."

"Yes, yes. Well, good-by, William. Try to forget your personal worries, and give my love to Gloria —"

The telephone went dead. Hale stood up. It was just like Johnson, damn him — three minutes and no more; efficiency, economy!

Gloria looked up inquiringly. "Was that Mr. Johnson, dear?"

"Yes. He sends his love to you."

Gloria flushed with pleasure. Hale, feeling anything but joyful, stood with his hand on the doorknob. He couldn't go into the outer office without her, but he didn't like to disturb her. Forget his troubles — yeah!

"Gloria," he said, "do you mind coming with me?"

"Just this line, Billie-willie; only a minute!"

Billie-willie — and always a line to be finished.

"Sweetheart," he hissed dangerously, "you can finish it later."

"I'll be finished in a sec —"

He dragged her hands from the needles as gently as his rage would allow and pulled her after him. He could have gone without her, but it would have made him as frantic as she would have been. He thought he'd have to try simply walking out more often when he wanted her to come; as he had by far the stronger personality, he ought to be able to stand the resulting agony longer than she could. If she could learn anything, she could learn to stop that damned knitting when he wanted to go somewhere.

He studied the filing cabinets while Gloria stood by, annoyed and bored. There was a whole drawer devoted to lobbies: lobbies having to do with airports boycotts, civil liberties, defense, education, embargoes, exports, farming, flood control, government spending, imports, isolation, liquor, merchant marine, naval construction, prohibition, public utilities, railroads, religion, roads, subsidies, tariffs, taxes —

Hale pondered over the "Isolation" envelope. Were the isolationists really his natural allies? He tried to imitate Johnson's reasoning. In the face of savage aggression all over the world, they protested that America was in no danger. Many were sincere, but many were patently admirers of the dictatorships, and used isolation merely to advance the interests of these predatory governments. And there were enough extreme reactionaries, extreme radicals, screwballs, revivalists, impartial manufacturers who sold to both sides and looked for a solvent middle, and agents of foreign governments to discredit the whole movement.

Nope, thought Hale, not the isolationists. Then who? Well, that brought up the question of a popular basis for hamstringing fortification without completely squashing it. How do you hamstring legislation? You can fight to have it thrown out altogether, or filibuster, or whittle it down so outrageously that the other side will repudiate it in that form.

And there it was, staring Hale in the face. In principle, agree with the need for fortification; in practice, cut down the appropriations on grounds of economy. Neither side will give in without a long, bitter fight, with equal logic and good faith on both sides.

Hale felt his chest expand; he even smiled brilliantly at Gloria. Economy.

There it was: "Economy Lobby" with all the details of adherents, connections, and resources. "Reason for ineffectiveness: Lack of funds."

That stopped him for a while. He couldn't give them money, or solicit for them openly. That would make him conspicuous, and involve expense, one of Johnson's greatest horrors.

He flipped through the entries to their resources. Small loans, small gifts, nothing that would pay for a really big campaign, with broadcasts and printing. Hold it! "Donation 10,000 shares common stock, Strike Gold Mining Corp., par value $1,000,000; market value, nil. Satiric gift of T. Sloan Blackett, economy legislation foe and ardent government supporter. See: Strike Gold Mining Corp."

Hale shoved back the drawer and moved down to the one marked "STO-STR."

"Strike Gold Mining Corp., near Curtis, Mont., founded ... date of incorporation ... officers ... capitalization ... Mine abandoned, workable ore exhausted. Geologic survey indicates small deposit of tungsten beneath present mine level, rare in United States and never in commercial quantities, thus unlooked for by company geologist and unknown to officers."

Hale grabbed Gloria and shocked her with a kiss. When she tried to prolong the unexpected favor, he dragged her into the private office. Her face fell when he snatched at the telephone instead of at her.

He called Titus, Farnsworth and Quinn. When a suave voice said, "Titus speaking," he replied cheerfully: "Hello, Titus, Johnson and Hale. Buy up a controlling interest in Strike Gold Mining, on margin, of course, and at the lowest possible price."

Wounded, Titus said: "You don't have to tell me that, Mr. Hale. But I don't seem to remember this Strike company. Mind waiting a minute while I look it up?" Silence, then: "Are you sure you've got the right name? Strike hasn't been on the board for years."

"Yep. Strike Gold Mining Corporation."

"Well, I guess you know what you're doing. But that mine isn't worth a dime. What's up, Mr. Hale?"

"A new engineering report. Get in on the ground floor if you want to, as long as you throw your votes my way. Send some reputable engineer out to the property. Got that?"

"Yes."

"Tell him to look for tungsten! He won't believe it but he'll find out for himself. Send word out to the newspapers. And then, Titus I don't have to tell you what to do. Just remember the tungsten deposit'll give out in a short while. Understand? Now let's see a quick job."

"Yes, sir, I understand all right. Thanks for the tip Mr. Hale. Good-by."

That was the way to forget his troubles. Hale slapped the desk and grinned. How's that, Johnson?