The Winds of Limbo

CHAPTER SEVEN

ALAN, like the rest of his contemporaries, had lived sc long in a peaceful world that the concept of war, particularly war fought on a nuclear scale, was horrifying. For nearly a century the world had hovered on the brink of atomic conflict, but time after time governments had jus! managed to avoid it. With the final outlawing of nuclear weapons in 2042, a great sigh of relief had gone up.

The human race had come dangerously close to destroying itself but at last it could progress without that fear forever pressing on it.

And now Helen's casual reference to a solar war!

"You don't mean that as a serious suggestion, do you?" he asked her.

"Alan, the Solar Cabinet, myself and one or two other party leaders have been aware of the existence of nuclear arms for some time. Simon Powys, in his speech before the House this morning, could not reveal that, because if the news leaked we might well have a fresh panic on our hands. Anyway, it suited his purpose to suggest that the Fireclown manufactured them. The Fireclown might have been able to make his, but he could just as easily have bought them."

"Bought-?" Alan gasped. "Bought them from whom?"

"From one of the men who specialize in such things. Over the years there has been a constant 'black market* in nuclear arms. The police have been aware of it and they have been vigilant. Many of those who discovered forgotten caches have been arrested and the weapons destroyed. But some haven't. And these men would welcome physical conflict-preferably on Earth or between Earth and one of the other worlds, so that they could get to safety on the un-threatened world. If one side began an attack with nuclear arms, the other would have to defend itself-and the dealers could then get any price that they wanted."

"But, surely, arms dealing on such a scale is impossible!"

"Not if the cards are played right. And it has been evident to me for some time that someone is playing their cards right. If he gets the hand he wants-bang!

Suddenly, overnight, without any kind of warning and none of the psychological protection people perhaps had a hundred years ago, we'd be plunged into a war of colossal destruction."

"I can't believe it!"

"Perhaps it's better. Remember, this is only what the dealers wish for-it might not happen. That's why it's so secret. It might be possible to remove the danger once and for all with none of the public knowing it was there. The RLM shadow cabinet have a plan to prevent the eventuality; Simon Powys has another. I think ours is better. Now you know one of the reasons I’m in politics and why I stay in."

"I'll accept that," he said a trifle dubiously. "Do you think the Fireclown's tied up with any of these dealers?"

"If he's tied up with one, he's probably tied up with them all. Those we haven't caught are the most powerful and have very likely formed themselves into a syndicate. That's what the rumors say, at any rate."

"I saw no evidence of a plant when I explored the Fire-clown's level. So it's probable that he could have bought the P-bombs." ."There's another angle to it," Helen said thoughtfully. "Admittedly I may not have been wholly objective about the Fireclown, but what if the dealers had planted the P-bombs on him, knowing that someone would eventually find out?"

"Why should they do that?" Alan bent down and picked up a handbill, his eyes fixed on it. It was another picture of Helen, this time in a heroic pose. Fifty words of text underneath briefly outlined her ideals in purple adjectives.

"The arms dealers want a war-preferably one that wouldn't have too destructive results and wouldn't involve all three habitable planets. First, hint that the Fireclown has a stock-pile, supply the evidence to be found, take advantage of the scare-and the possibility of the Fireclown possessing more weapons-then unload a ready-made batch of weapons for 'defense' of the Solar Government. That way, you see, there might not be a war at all-but the dealers would profit just the same."

"That sounds close to the truth-if the dealers did frame the Fireclown, of course. But we have proof that he caused the destruction of fifteen levels. How do you explain that? That fire was impossible to extinguish. He had obviously made it, in the same way he manufactured that weird artificial sun in the cavern."

"He may have -been pushed into it-self defense."

"No, I don't think so."

"There's one way we can get more information," she said briskly, jumping down off the bale. "We can go and see Simon Powys. He'd know more about it than anyone."

"Do you want to do that?"

"I'm curious. More than that, Alan." She smiled nervously. "I may be able to wheedle something out of the old patriarch that would be advantageous to me in the election. If I could prove that the Fireclown was framed it would help a lot."

He shook his head, wondering at her incredible optimism.

"All right," he said. "Let's go."

Simon Powys received them with the air of the conquering Roman general receiving the defeated barbarian leaders. All he needed, Alan thought, was a toga and a laurel crown.

He smiled urbanely, greeted them conventionally, offered them drinks, which they accepted.

"Come into the study," he said to his grandson and niece. He led the way. He had furnished the place with deliberate archaism. There were even a few family portraits-of the best-remembered members of the Powys clan. The first Denholm, Alan and Simon Powys hung there, as well as the two women Presidents of the Solar Government. A proud and slightly somber-looking group. The bookcases were of mahogany, filled primarily with books on politics, history and philosophy.

The novels were of the same type-political novels by Disraeli, Trollope, Koestler, Endelmans and De la Vega. Alan rather envied his grandfather's one-track mind. It made him good at his career.

"To tell you the truth," Simon Powys said heavily. "I feel sorry for you both.

You were misled, as most people were, and this business must-have left you slightly in the air. It hasn't done you much good politically, has it, Helen? A pity-you've got good Powys stuff in you-strong will, impersonal ambition…"

"And an eye to the main chance." She smiled. "Though you'll probably say, Uncle Simon, that I lack self-discipline and could do with a spot more common-sense.

You'd probably be right' about the self-discipline. I lost out on that one-I think I'm finished now, don't you?"

Alan admired her guile.

Simon Powys nodded regretfully. He probably did regret his niece's political demise, just as he obviously regretted Alan's never having shown an interest in politics. "Still, you were rather foolish, y’know."

"I know," she said contritely.

He turned to Alan. "And you, my boy? I suppose you understand why I was so adamant earlier?"

"Yes, Grandfather."

The old man seemed to warm to both of them. "I shall be President, no doubt, when the next session begins. It was really my last opportunity to take such high responsibility-family tradition demands a Powys of every generation to serve at least one term. I was hoping that you, Alan, would follow on, but I suppose the task will fall to Helen's son and Denholm's. I wish my daughter..

." He cleared his throat, seemingly moved to strong emotion, although Alan thought the last line had been a bit stagey. It was probably for his benefit. He wondered why he should have felt such momentary love for his grandfather at their earliest interview.

"What made you suspicious of the Fireclown in the first place?" Helen said, in the manner of a whodunit character preparing the detective for his denouement.

"Instinct, I suppose. Could have told you there was something fishy about him the first time I heard of him. Made Junnar go down and have a look the first opportunity he could. There was also another business which I can't really talk about…"

"He knows about the illegal stock-piles, Uncle," Helen said forthrightly.

"Really? A bit unwise to spread it around, isn't it?"

"I'm not in the habit of betraying confidences, Grandfather," Alan said tritely, with a hard look at Helen.

"No. I suppose if s all right. But presumably Helen has impressed you with the need for secrecy?"

"Of course," Helen said.

"Well, I had a feeling he'd been connected with the dealers. They're the only group of criminals powerful enough to hide a man and help him change his identity. I guessed that he had probably come from their hideout, though this was all conjecture, you understand. The police investigated him and could find nothing to indicate it, though they agreed with me."

"So, in fact, unless it can be established that the P-bombs are part of the old stock, there is nothing to connect him with the dealers?" Helen said, trying hard not to show her disappointment.

"I have already been in touch with the laboratory analyzing the bombs. They tell me they are old stock-you would have discovered that soon, anyway, at the next Committee meeting. Obviously we can't tell the public that."

"Obviously," said Helen, "though it might have strengthened my own case in the House slightly."

"Not to any important degree."

"What's this committee?" Alan asked curiously.

"We call it the One Hundred Committee, after a slightly less effective British anti-nuclear group which existed in the middle of the twentieth century.

Actually there are only ten of us. The Committee is pledged to locating every single nuclear weapon left over from the old days and seeing the offenders punished where possible. We work, of course, in close collaboration with the highly secret ARP-the Arms Removal Police. Our work has been going on for years.

Helen is the secretary and I am the chairman. Other important politicians comprise the remaining eight."

"Very worthy," said Alan. "Are you effective?"

"We have been in the past, though our job is becoming more difficult since the dealers work together, pooling their resources. They would welcome an opportunity to sell what they have-perhaps Helen has already told you."

"Yes, she has. But it occurred to me that you could offer to buy the dealers out now. Surely it would be better to pay their price and have the arms without waiting for a crisis to decide you?"

"That's our main bone of contention," Helen put in. "Uncle doesn't agree with buying them now. I want to do that."

"The fantastic price these brigands would demand would beggar the Solar nation,"

Simon Powys said gruffly to his grandson. "We must do it in secret and justify the expenditure at the same time. It would be impossible. I feel they'll overstep the mark at some stage, then we'll catch them."

"The expenditure's worth it!" Helen said. "We could recuperate from poverty, but survival in a nuclear war…"

"If we caught the Fireclown, then," Alan said slowly, "it might give us a lead to the arms dealer."

"Possibly," Powys agreed, "though he might not admit to it. Secondly, he might not even know who the dealers are. They are naturally extremely cautious.

However, they are certainly going to take advantage of the trouble the Fire-clown has caused. The man must be caught-and destroyed before he makes any more trouble!"

"Grandfather!" Alan was shocked. The death penalty had been abolished for more than a hundred years.

"I'm sorry-I'm extremely sorry, Helen. You must forgive an old man's tongue.

These concepts were not quite so disgusting when I was a young man. Certainly 'we must imprison or exile the Fireclown."

Alan nodded.

"It's funny," he said, "that the Fireclown should preach a return to nature; that, in fact, science leads to mankind's destruction, and yet he should be planning that same destruction-or at very least is a tool of those who would welcome it."

"Life," said the old man with the air of a philosopher, "is full of that sort of paradox."