World of Chance

Chapter XIV

There were five people in the room.

Judge Waring sat at one end of the table. Leon Cartwright faced the massive figure of Reese Verrick, separated by two heaped ash-trays and a pitcher of ice water. Benteley and Major Shaeffer sat opposite each other at the low end of the table. The final chair was empty. Oster, the ipvic technicians, the Directorate officials, the Hill staff officers, had been barred.

Judge Waring glared suspiciously from Verrick to Cartwright and back to Verrick. "Is the recording business going?"

A recording technician crept agilely along the table and took up a position in front of Reese Verrick. "Thanks," Verrick said, as he collected his papers and prepared to begin.

"Is this the fellow?" Waring asked, indicating Benteley.

"He's the one I came for," Verrick said, with a brief glance at Benteley. "But he's not the only one. They're all breaking their oaths and betraying me." His voice trailed off, but he roused himself and quietly delivered his statement. "Benteley was dropped by Oiseau-Lyre. He came to me at Batavia looking for an eight-eight posi­tion; that's his class. Things were bad for me at that time but I took him on, in spite of my own uncertainty. I took him into my household, gave him a flat at A.G. Chemie."

Shaeffer shot a quick glance at Cartwright; he was ahead of Verrick's spoken words.

"I put him on my bio-chemist research staff. Fed him. Took care of him." Verrick raised his voice a trifle. "He was given a responsible position in my biggest project, at his own insistence. He stated that he wanted to get in on policy-level. I gave him what he asked. At the crucial moment he betrayed me. He killed his immediate superior, dropped his work, and fled. Too cowardly to go on, he broke his oath. The project collapsed because of him. He came here aboard a Directorate ship and tried to swear allegiance to the Quizmaster."

Verrick was silent. He had finished.

Benteley heard the words with a kind of dull surprise. Was that what had happened? Waring was looking at him curiously, waiting for him to speak. Benteley shrugged; he had nothing to say.

Cartwright spoke up. "What was Benteley's job in this project?"

Verrick hesitated. "He was doing substantially the same work as the other class eight-eight people."

"Was there any difference?"

Verrick was silent a moment. "Not that I can recall."

"That's a lie," Shaeffer said to Judge Waring. "He knows of a difference."

Verrick nodded reluctantly. "There was one difference," he admitted. "Benteley asked for and got the leading position. He would have taken the project to its final stage. He was trusted completely."

"What was that stage?" Judge Waring asked.

"Benteley's death," Cartwright answered.

Verrick didn't contradict him. He pretended to examine his papers until finally Judge Waring asked: "Is that true?"

Verrick nodded.

"Did Benteley know?" Judge Waring pressed.

"Not at first. It wasn't possible to make the information available to him immediately; he had just joined the staff. He betrayed me when he found out." Verrick gripped his papers convulsively. "He destroyed the project. They all deserted and let me down."

"Who else betrayed you?" Shaeffer asked curiously.

"Eleanor Stevens. Herb Moore."

"Oh," Shaeffer said. "I thought Moore was the man Benteley killed."

Verrick nodded. "Moore was his immediate superior and in charge of the project."

"If Benteley killed Moore, and Moore had betrayed you..." Shaeffer turned to Judge Waring. "It sounds as if Benteley acted as a loyal serf."

Verrick snorted. "Moore betrayed me afterwards. After Benteley——" He broke off.

"Go on," Shaeffer said.

"After Benteley killed him," Verrick said woodenly.

"What's that?" Judge Waring asked testily.

"Tell him what the project was," Shaeffer suggested mildly. "Then he'll understand."

Verrick studied the table in front of him. "I have nothing more to say." He got slowly to his feet. "I withdraw the material relating to Moore's death. That isn't relevant."

"What do you charge?" Cartwright asked.

"Benteley left the job I had assigned to him, the job he took on when he swore loyalty to me."

"It was either that or death," Cartwright pointed out.

"He should have stayed, it was his job."

Cartwright rose. "I have nothing else to say," he said to Judge Waring. "I accepted Benteley because I considered him freed from his prior oath to Verrick. I considered the oath broken by Verrick. A protector isn't supposed to send a serf to involuntary death."

Judge Waring's beard bobbed up and down. "A protector can destroy his serf on an involuntary basis only if the serf has broken his oath. In breaking his oath the serf forfeits his rights but remains his protector's property." He gathered up his law books. "The case here rests on one point: if the protector in question broke his side of the oath first, the serf in question was legally within his rights to drop his work and leave. But if the protector did not break his side of the oath prior to the serf's departure, then the serf is a felon liable to the death penalty."

Cartwright moved towards the door. Verrick followed, hands deep in his pockets. "That's it, then," Cartwright said. "We'll wait for your decision."

Benteley was with Rita O'Neill when the decision came, hours later. Shaeffer brought the news. "I've been scan­ning Judge Waring," he said. "He's made up his mind."

Benteley and Rita were sitting in a bar, two vague shapes in the dim colour-twisting shadows that enveloped their table. A single aluminium candle sputtered between them. Directorate officials were sitting about, murmuring, gazing vacantly ahead, sipping drinks. "Well?" Benteley said. "What is it?"

"It's in your favour," Shaeffer said. "He'll announce it in a few minutes."

"Then Verrick has no claim over me," Benteley said wonderingly.

Shaeffer moved away. "Congratulations."

Rita put her hand on Benteley's. "We should celebrate," she said.

"Yes, I'm where I wanted to be." Benteley sipped his drink. "Working for the Directorate. Sworn to the Quiz­master. This is what I set out for."

Rita tore apart a match folder and fed the fragments to the metallic candle. "You're not satisfied, are you?"

"I'm as far from satisfaction as it's humanly possible to be."

"Why?" she asked softly.

"I haven't really done anything. I thought it was the Hills, but Wakeman was right. It isn't the Hills—it's the whole society. The stench is everywhere. Getting away from the Hill system doesn't help me or anybody else." He angrily pushed his glass away. "I could simply hold my nose and pretend it isn't there. But that isn't enough. Something has to be done. The whole thing has to be pulled down. It's rotten, corrupt... ready to fall on its face. But something has to be built in its place. Tearing down isn't enough. I've got to help build up the new. I'd like to do something that will make it different for other people. I have to do something to alter things."

"Maybe you will."

"How? Where'll the chance come from? I'm still a serf. Tied down. Under oath."

"You're young. We both are. We've got years ahead of us in which to plan things." Rita lifted her glass.

Benteley smiled. "I'll drink to that." He raised his own glass and touched hers. "But not too much." His smile ebbed. "Verrick is still hanging around. I'll wait until he leaves before I do my drinking."

Rita stopped feeding bits of paper to the white-hot candle flame. "What would happen if he killed you?"

"They'd shoot him."

"What would happen if he killed my uncle?"

"They'd take away his power-card. He'd never be Quizmaster."

"He won't be Quizmaster, anyhow," Rita said quietly.

Benteley roused himself. "What are you thinking?"

"He won't go back empty-handed. He can't stop at this point." She glanced up at him, dark-eyed and serious. "It's not over, Ted. He has to kill somebody."

At that moment a shadow touched the table. He glanced up, one hand in his pocket, against his gun.

"Hello!" Eleanor Stevens said. "Mind if I join you?"

She sat down facing them, hands folded in front of her, a fixed smile on her lips. Her green eyes flashed brightly at Benteley, then at Rita. In the half-shadows her hair glowed a rust red, soft and heavy against her bare neck and shoulders.

"Who are you?" Rita asked.

Green eyes dancing, Eleanor leaned forward to light her cigarette from the candle. "Just a name. Not really a person any more. Isn't that right, Ted?"

"You better get out of here," Benteley said. "I don't think Verrick wants you with us."

"I haven't seen Verrick since I got here, except at a distance. Maybe I'll leave him. Everybody else seems to be doing it."

"Be careful," Benteley said.

"About what?" Eleanor blew a cloud of smoke. "I couldn't help hearing what you were saying. You're right." Her eyes were fixed intently on Rita; she spoke rapidly in a sharp, brittle voice. "Verrick wants you Ted, but he'll make do with Cartwright if he can't get you. He's down in his quarters trying to make up his mind. He used to have Moore handy to arrange things in a neat mathematical equation. Assign an arbitrary value of plus 50 for killing Benteley. But minus 100 for being shot in retribution. Assign an arbitrary value of plus 40 for killing Cartwright. But a minus 50 for losing his power-card. Both way he loses."

Benteley agreed warily. "He loses both ways."

"Here's another," Eleanor said brightly. "I thought this one up myself." She nodded merrily to Rita. "I mean, you thought it up. But I made up the equation. Assign an arbitrary value of plus 40 for killing Cartwright. And then try this. Assign a minus 100 by Cartwright for being killed. That takes care of that part; that's for Reese. Then there's my own, but that's not much."

"I don't understand what you're talking about," Rita said indifferently.

"I do!" Benteley said. "Look out!"

Eleanor had already moved. On her feet like a cat, she grabbed up the aluminium candle and ground the tube of bubbling flame into Rita's face.

Benteley slammed the candle away. With a tinny grumble it rolled from the table and clanked on the floor. Sound­lessly Eleanor slipped round the table to Rita O'Neill, who sat pawing helplessly at her eyes. Her black hair and skin were smoking and charred; the acrid odour of seared flesh filled the air. Eleanor tore the woman's hand away. Something glittered between the girl's fingers, a scarf-pin that came swiftly up at Rita's eyes. Benteley hurled him­self at the girl; she clung to him desperately, clawing and stabbing blindly until he shook her loose. Green eyes wild and glazed, she spun away and vanished into the black shadows.

Benteley turned quickly to Rita O'Neill. "I'm all right," Rita said between clenched teeth. "The candle went out and she didn't get me with the pin. Better try to catch her."

People on all sides were leaping up and hurrying over. Eleanor had already disappeared.

"Go on," Rita cried, her hands over her face, elbows resting against the table. "You know where she's going. You know what he'll do to her."

Benteley ran into the corridor and towards the descent lift. A moment later he emerged on the ground level. At the far end of the corridor he saw a flash of green and red. He raced forward, turned a corner — and stopped dead.

Eleanor Stevens stood facing Reese Verrick. "Listen to me," she was entreating. "It's the only way." Her voice rose in shrill panic. "Reese, for mercy's sake believe me. Take me back! I'm sorry. I left you but I won't do it again. I'm bringing you this, aren't I?"

Verrick saw Benteley. He smiled slightly as he reached out to seize Eleanor's wrist with his iron-hard fingers. "We're back together. All three of us."

"You've got it wrong," Benteley said to him. "She didn't mean to betray you. She's loyal."

"I don't think so," Verrick said. "She's no good."

"Then let her go."

Verrick considered. "No," he said finally.

"Reese!" the girl wailed. "I told you what they said! I told you how you can do it—now! I made it possible, so take me back, please take me back!"

"I can do it. But I had already worked it out."

Benteley stepped in fast, but not fast enough.

"Ted!" Eleanor screamed. "Help me!"

Verrick swept her up and lugged her in three giant strides to a precipitous drop beyond which was dead bleakness. Verrick lifted the screaming, struggling girl high and with one quick movement threw her sprawling into eternity.

She stumbled and fell into rubble and rock, arms flailing, face distorted, eyes bulging. For one pleading instant she looked towards Benteley.

Numbed, Benteley plucked out his gun. Shaeffer knocked it from his hand. "No good—she's dead!"

Benteley nodded. "Yes, I know and Verrick is going to get away with it."

He moved away to stumble on to the ascent ramp.

Footsteps and heavy breathing sounded behind him and the ramp shuddered under a great weight. Verrick had followed.

"Wait a minute, Benteley," he said. "I'll come along with you. I have a business transaction I think Cartwright will be interested in."

Verrick waited until Judge Waring, muttering and fumbling with his chair, had seated himself. Opposite him Cartwright sat straight and white-faced.

"How's your niece?" Verrick asked.

"She'll be all right," Cartwright said, "thanks to Benteley."

"Yes," Verrick agreed. "I always thought Benteley could act when necessary. It was her face Eleanor struck for?"

"Surgeons can fix her up. It didn't get to her eyes; mostly her skin and hair."

Benteley couldn't stop looking at Reese Verrick, calm and collected. His breathing had returned to normal; his face had a mottled look but his hands had stopped trem­bling.

"What do you want?" Cartwright asked him. He turned to Judge Waring. "I don't know what this is about."

"Neither do I," Judge Waring agreed crossly. "What is this, Reese? What have you got on your mind?"

Verrick explained. "I have a proposal to offer Cart­wright. I want you to hear it out and see that it's legal." He placed his gun on the table in front of him. "We've come to a dead end. You can't kill me, Leon; that would be murder. The death of Eleanor will be ignored—she was in an important social category."

Cartwright did not take his eyes from Verrick.

"I came here to kill Benteley, but I can't. Stalemate. Stalemate on all sides; you can't kill me, I can't kill Benteley, and I can't kill you."

Shaeffer entered the room. He glanced at Judge Waring and took a seat. "Leon," he said to Cartwright, "this is a bluff on his part. The girl took him the idea before he killed her. He wants to scare you———"

"I know," Cartwright said. "He's going to suggest an arrangement. What's your proposition, Reese?"

Verrick dug into his pocket and got out his power-card. "A swap," he said. "Your card for mine."

"That would make you Quizmaster," Cartwright observed.

"You'll come out of this with your life, I'll come out with the Quizmastership."

"Then you'll have Benteley," Cartwright said.

"That's right," Verrick answered.

Cartwright turned to Shaeffer. "Will he kill me if I refuse?"

Shaeffer was silent for a long time. "Yes," he said at last, "he won't leave here without killing you or getting Benteley back. If you don't fit in he'll kill you and surrender his card. If you do, he'll have Benteley again. Either way he gets one of you. He knows he can't get both. He'd prefer to have Benteley; he has got to have him under control again."

Cartwright searched his pockets until he found his package of power-cards. He sorted through them slowly. "Is this legal?" he asked Judge Waring.

"You can exchange," Waring said gruffly.

Benteley rose. "Cartwright, are you really——"

"Sit down!" Waring snapped. "You have no say in this."

Cartwright found the correct card, checked it with his other papers, then laid it on the table. "There's mine."

"You're willing to exchange?" Verrick asked. "You understand what it means? You're legally giving up your position. With your card goes everything."

"I understand."

Verrick turned round and faced Benteley. The two of them gazed at each other a moment, neither speaking. Then Verrick grunted: "It's a deal."

Benteley said thickly: "Cartwright, you know what he'll do to me, don't you?"

Cartwright ignored him; he was returning the little package of power-cards to his coat pocket. "Go ahead," he said mildly to Verrick. "Let's finish so that I can go to Rita."

Verrick reached forward and picked up Cartwright's power-card. "Now I'm Quizmaster."

Cartwright's hand came out of his pocket. With his small, antiquated gun he shot Reese Verrick directly in the heart. Still clutching the power-card, Verrick slid forward and lay with his face against the table, eyes and mouth open.

"Is it legal?" Cartwright asked the Judge.

"Absolutely." Waring nodded solemnly. "Of course you lose that packet of cards you hold."

Cartwright tossed them to the Judge. "I'm an old man and I'm tired."

Benteley sagged. "He's dead. It's over."

Cartwright got to his feet. "Now we can go downstairs and see how Rita is."