Now Wait for Last Year (17 page)

He could not as yet make out quite precisely how the illnesses behaved in order to function as a response to Freneksy. But he had the deep and acute intuition that he would very soon; the confrontation between Freneksy and Molinari lay only moments away, and everything which the Mole had would have to be trotted out, if the Mole wished to survive.

Beside Eric a minor State Department official muttered, 'Oppressive in here, isn't it? Wish they'd open a window or turn on the vent system.'

Eric thought, No mechanical vent system will clear this air. Because the oppression emanates from those seated across from us and it will not depart until they depart – and perhaps not even then.

Leaning toward Eric, Molinari said, 'Sit here beside me.' He drew the chair back. 'Listen, doctor, do you have your bag of instruments with you?'

'It's in my conapt.'

Molinari at once dispatched a robant runner. 'I want you to have the bag at all times.' He cleared his throat, then turned toward those seated on the far side of the table. 'Minister Freneksy, I have a, uh, statement. I'd like to read it; the statement summarizes Earth's present position as regards—'

'Secretary,' Freneksy said suddenly in English, 'before you read any statement I would like to describe the status of the war effort on Front A.' Freneksy rose; an aide at once unrolled a map projection which took effect on the far wall. The room sank into shadow.

Grunting, Molinari placed his written statement back inside the jacket of his uniform; he would not get his opportunity to read it. In an obvious manner he had been pre-empted. And, for a political strategist, this was a grave defeat. The initiative, if it had ever been his, was gone now.

'Our combined armies,' Freneksy stated, 'are shortening their lines for strategic purposes. The reegs are expending inordinate amounts of men and materiel in this area.' He indicated a sector on the map; it lay halfway between two planets of the Alpha System. 'They will not be able to continue this long; I predict a bankruptcy of their strength no later than a month – Terran count – from now. The reegs do not understand yet that this is to be a long war. Victory, for them, must come soon or not at all. We, however—' Freneksy indicated the entire map with a sweep of the pointer. 'We are maturely aware of the over-all strategic meaning of this struggle, and how long it must remain with us in terms of time as well as space. Also, the reegs are spread too thinly. If a major battle were to break out here—' Freneksy indicated the spot '—they could not support their forces already committed. Further, we will have twenty more first-line divisions in action by the end of the Terran year; this is a promise, Secretary. We have yet to call up several classes here on Terra, whereas the reegs have scraped the barrel.' He paused.

Molinari murmured, 'Is your bag here yet, doctor?'

'Not yet,' Eric said, looking for the robant runner; it had not returned.

Leaning close to Eric, the Mole whispered, 'Listen. You know what I've been experiencing lately? Head noises. Rushing sounds – you know, in my ears. Swoop, zwoop. Does that sound like anything?'

Minister Freneksy had continued. 'We have new weapons, also, emanating from Planet Four of the Empire; you will be astonished, Secretary, when you see video clips of them in tactical operation. They are devastating in their accuracy. I will not attempt to describe them in detail now; I prefer to wait until the tapes are available. I personally supervised their engineering and construction.'

His head almost touching Eric's, Molinari whispered, 'And when I turn my head from side to side I get a distinct cracking sound from the base of my neck. Can you hear it?' He turned his head from side to side, nodding in a slow, stiff manner. 'What is that? It resounds unpleasantly as hell in my ears.'

Eric said nothing; he was watching Freneksy, barely paying attention to the whispering from the man beside him.

'Secretary,' Freneksy said, pausing, 'consider this aspect of our joint effort; the reegs' space-drive output has been severely restricted due to the success by our W-bombs. Those which have come off their assembly lines recently – we are informed by MCI – are unreliable, and a number of highly destructive contaminations have occurred in deep space aboard their line ships.'

The robant runner entered the room now, with Eric's instrument case.

Ignoring this, Freneksy continued, his voice harsh and insistent. 'I also point out, Secretary, that on Front Blue the Terran brigades have not performed well, no doubt due to a lack of proper equipment. Victory is of course inevitable for us – eventually. But right now we must see to it that our troops who hold the line against the reegs are not put in the position of facing the enemy deprived of adequate materiel. It is criminal to allow men to fight under those circumstances; don't you agree, Secretary?' Without pausing, Freneksy continued, 'Therefore you can see the urgency of increasing Terra's output of strategic war goods and weapons of all sorts.'

Molinari saw Eric's instrument case and nodded with relief. 'You have it,' he said. 'Good. Keep it ready, just in case. You know what I think these head noises are from? Hypertension.'

Cautiously, Eric said, 'Could be.'

Now Minister Freneksy had ceased; his expressionless face seemed to become more severe, more withdrawn into the vacuum of his own intensity, the nonBeing which seemed to be his major quality. Irritated by Molinari's lack of attention, Freneksy was drawing from this well of his own anti-existence, Eric decided. Casting his principle over the conference room and the people in it, as if forcing everyone away from each other step by step.

'Secretary,' Freneksy said, 'this now is most crucial. My generals in the field tell me that the new reeg offensive weapon, their—'

'Wait,' Molinari croaked. 'I wish to confer with my colleague, here beside me.' Bending so close to Eric that his soft, perspiration-dampened cheek pressed against his neck, Molinari whispered to him, 'And you know what else? I seem to be having trouble with my eyes. As if I'm going completely blind. Here's what I want you to do, doctor; give me a pressure reading right now. Just to be sure it's not dangerously high. I feel it is frankly.'

Eric opened his instrument case.

At the wall map Minister Freneksy said, 'Secretary, we must attend to this decisive detail before we can continue. Terran troops do not stand up well against the reegs' new homeostatic bomb, hence I would like to relieve a million and a half of my own factory workers and put them into uniform, replacing them in Empire factories with Terrans. This is an advantage for you, Secretary, in that Terrans will not be fighting and dying in the lines but will be safe inside Empire factories. However, this must be done soon or not at all.' He added, 'This explains my desire for an immediate conference at a superior level.'

Eric read, from the testing disc, a pressure of 290 for Molinari, an elevation unnaturally high and ominous.

'Bad, isn't it?' Molinari said, resting his head on his arms. 'Get Teagarden in here,' he instructed a robant. 'I want him to confer with Dr Sweetscent; tell him to be prepared to make a diagnosis on the spot.'

'Secretary,' Freneksy said, 'we cannot continue unless you turn attention to what I'm saying. My request for a million and a half Terran males and females to work in Empire factories – did you hear that? This crucial requisition must be honored at once; transport of these entities must begin no later than the end of this week, your time.'

'Um,' Molinari murmured. 'Yes, Minister, I heard; I'm pondering this request.'

'There is nothing to ponder,' Freneksy said. 'It must be achieved if we are to hold the line on Front C, where reeg pressure is now greatest. A breakthrough is imminent, and Terran brigades have not—'

'I'll have to consult with my Labor Secretary,' Molinari said, after a long pause. 'Get his approval.'

'We must have the one and a half million of your people!'

Reaching into his jacket, Molinari fished out his folded sheets of paper. 'Minister, this statement which I—'

'Do I have your promise?' Freneksy demanded. 'So that we can go on to other matters, now?'

'I'm sick,' Molinari said.

There was silence.

At last Freneksy said thoughtfully, 'I am aware. Secretary, that your health has not been good for years now. Therefore I took the liberty of bringing an Empire physician with me to this conference. This is Dr Gornel.' On the far side of the table a lank-faced 'Starman nodded curtly to the Mole. 'I would like him to examine you, with a view toward making a permanent correction of your physical problems.'

'Thank you, Minister,' Molinari said. 'Your kindness in bringing Dr Gornel is deeply appreciated. However, I have my own staff physician here, Dr Sweetscent. He and Dr Teagarden are about to perform an exploratory examination to determine the cause of my hypertension.'

'Now?' Freneksy said, and showed, for the first time, a trace of genuine emotion. Amazed anger.

'My blood pressure is dangerously high,' Molinari explained. 'If it continues I'll lose my eyesight. In fact already I'm suffering impaired vision.' In a low voice he said to Eric, 'Doctor, everything around me has become dim; I think I'm already blind. Where the hell's Teagarden?'

Eric said, 'I can seek for the source of the hypertension, Secretary; I have the necessary diagnostic instruments with me.' He reached into his case once more. 'Initially I'll give you an injection of radioactive salts which will carry through your bloodstream—'

'I know,' Molinari said. 'And collect at the source of the vasoconstriction. Go ahead.' He rolled up his sleeve and held out his furry arm; Eric pressed the self-cleansing head of the injecting tube against a vein near the elbow and pressed the tab.

Severely, Minister Freneksy said, 'What is taking place, Secretary? Can't we continue with the conference?'

'Yes, go ahead,' Molinari said, nodding. 'Dr Sweetscent is merely making an exploration to—'

'Medical matters bore me,' Freneksy interrupted. 'Secretary, there is a further proposal I wish to make to you now. First, I would like to have my physician, Dr Gornel, placed permanently on your staff to supervise your medical care. Secondly, I have been informed by the Empire counter-intelligence agency operating here on Terra that a group of malcontents, desiring an end to Terra's participation in the war, are planning your assassination; hence I wish, for your safety, to provide you with a perpetual armed guard of 'Starmen commando troops who will, by their extreme courage and determination and efficiency, protect your person at all times. They number twenty-five, an adequate number, given their unique quality.'

'What?' Molinari said. He shuddered. 'What do you find, doctor?' He seemed confused now, unable to keep his attention fixed on both Eric and the progess of the conference. 'Wait, Minister.' To Eric he murmured, 'What the hell do you find, doctor? Or did you just tell me? Sorry.' He rubbed his forehead. 'I'm blind!' His voice was filled with panic. 'Do something doctor!'

Eric, examining the sighting graph which traced the movement of the radioactive salts in Molinari's circulatory system, said, 'There appears to be a stricture of the renal artery which passes through your right kidney. A ring which—'

'I know,' Molinari said, nodding. 'I knew the stricture was in my right kidney; I've had it before. You'll have to operate, doctor, and cut the ring or it'll kill me.' He seemed too weak now to raise his head; he sat slumped over, face in his hands. 'God, I feel terrible,' he mumbled. Then he raised his head and said to Freneksy, 'Minister, I must undergo an immediate corrective operation to relieve this arterial stricture. We'll have to postpone this discussion.' He rose to his feet, swayed, and then fell noisily back; Eric and the man from the state caught him, helped him back into his chair. The Mole seemed incredibly heavy and inert; Eric could hardly support him, even with assistance.

Freneksy declared, The conference must continue.'

'All right,' Molinari gasped. 'I'll have the operation while you talk.' He nodded weakly to Eric. 'Don't wait for Teagarden; get started.'

'Here?' Eric said.

'It'll have to be,' Molinari whimpered. 'Cut the ring, doctor, or I'm dead. I'm dying – I know it.' He slumped, then, against the table. And this time he did not draw himself back up to a sitting position; he remained as he was. Like some great discarded, tossed sack.

At the far end of the table UN Vice Secretary Rick Prindle said to Eric, 'Begin, doctor. As he said, it's urgent; you know that.' Obviously he – and the others present – had been through this before.

Freneksy said, 'Secretary, will you empower Mr Prindle to take your official place in Terra-Lilistar negotiations?'

There was no answer from Molinari; he had passed into unconsciousness.

From his case Eric lifted a small surgical homeostatic unit; it would suffice – he hoped – for the delicate operation. Drilling its own path, and closing the passage behind it, the tool would penetrate the dermal layer and then the omentum until it reached the renal stricture, whereupon, if it was behaving properly, it would begin construction of a plastic bypass for the arterial section; this would be safer, at the moment, than attempting to remove the ring.

The door opened and Dr Teagarden entered; he hurried up to Eric, saw Molinari lying unconscious with his head on the table, said, 'Are you prepared to operate?'

'I have the equipment; yes, I'm ready.'

'No artiforg, of course?'

'It isn't necessary.'

Teagarden took hold of Molinari by the wrist, measured his pulse; then he whipped out a stethoscope, unbuttoned the Secretary's jacket and shirt, listened to his heart. 'Weak and irregular. We'd better cool him off.'

'Yes,' Eric agreed, and brought a cold-pak assembly from his case.

Freneksy, coming over to see, said, 'You're going to lower his body temperature during the operation?'