The Best Made Plans Part 31

"Afraid you were just a little rough on him," he said. "He'll get over it, but it's pretty unsettling, you know." He shrugged.

"But you haven't introduced yourself. Special Corps?"

Don looked at him blankly, then shook his head.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"I'm afraid I don't know what that is," he admitted.

Jackson examined him carefully. "Hm-m-m," he said slowly. "Interesting!

Tell me, how long have you been ordering people around like this?"

Don spread his hands. "Why, I don't really know," he said. "You see, I----"

Jackson held up a hand, smiling. "Never mind. Do you always go around ... ah ... dressed like that?"

Don glanced down, then grinned. "I'm sorry, sir, but I was in something of a dither a while ago. Truth is, I forgot to dress after I----"

"Wait a minute." Again, Jackson held up a hand. "Start at the beginning. While you're giving me the story, I'll have some clothes brought in for you." He touched a b.u.t.ton on his desk, then leaned back.

"All right," he said, "let's have it. First, of course, who are you?"

While Don was talking, an impa.s.sive aide brought an outfit for him. He slipped into the clothing as he finished his account.

"So," he concluded, "all we need to do now is to force a conclave and it's all over. From what Gorham told me, I'm pretty sure I can tear Stern apart myself." His eyes clouded.

"Of course, there's Mr. Masterson. I guess they've got him in one of the torture cells."

Jackson waved a hand. "There's no problem about Masterson. We'll have him over here by morning.

"And I have an idea your father is all right. From what you tell me, I'd say he used one of the evasion tricks they teach Guard pilots.

Then, he probably made a safe landing." He leaned forward and snapped down the key on his intercom.

"Emergency operation schedule, Lorenz," he said, "as of now. Have the department heads report here immediately. Have Communications get out an immediate message to Deloran Base. I want at least three squadrons, and I want 'em now. Tell 'em to burn the gra.s.s." He lifted the switch and turned to Don.

"I'm not going to take any chances from here on," he remarked. "We'll send a squadron of fighters along with you to pick up young Waern and the clan leaders. That way, they'll have protection." He frowned.

"Now, that leaves us with only one more problem."

Don looked up questioningly and the commissioner nodded.

"We'll have to find someone to represent the Waernu before the conclave. And he'll have to be acceptable to the Waernu."

"That's simple. They've already picked me."

"Won't work now. You can bring them before the clans, of course. But they'd be in a hole if you got snapped out on civil charges right in the middle of the conclave."

"Civil charges?"

"That's right. Little matter of that body out in the flier. You know, and I know, the story on that. It's clearly line of duty. But up to the decision of the conclave, you're vulnerable. Remember, Stern can claim Gorham as a police agent. So, you were resisting arrest. Catch?"

"Ow!" Don looked down at the floor. Then he shrugged.

"But Stern has no way of knowing what happened to Gorham."

"Admitted." Jackson smiled. "But he might guess. You'd have to be consulting with his people for some time before the conclave, you know.

And he'd have time to figure things out. Here you are. Here's the clan book. But where's Gorham? And Gorham went up to find that book. Adds up, you see."

"You mean I've got to stay under cover from now on?"

"Not necessarily. The clan warden doesn't have to be identified ahead of time. Usually, it's just an honorary job, any way. But this time, he might really have to perform his traditional duty." He looked at Don seriously.

"Remember the private conversation between claimant and prime minister?

About that time, the warden is the only protection the claimant has.

"And this is one time a claimant may really need protection."

Daniel Stern slapped a folder down on his desk and got to his feet. He circled the large office, then stopped, looking down at Gorham's vacant desk.

What had happened to Gorham? Papers were stacked all over his own desk.

And they should be here. Most of them had been old Jake's concern. He hadn't realized how much detail the old man had controlled.

But where was Gorham? He'd come in from Riandar. Reports showed that much. Then, his flier had suddenly dashed over and landed on the Federation pad. They'd tried to stop him, but----

Something must have gone wrong up there at Riandar. Something must have made Gorham decide to come back and make a separate deal of his own.

But why? There was that pile of clothes in the Waern house. Had he----?

Maybe that blast had killed Gorham and destroyed his evidence.

He looked around hopefully. It was possible. No effort had been made to restrain him. He still controlled the Ministry. No effort had been made to limit his authority.

He picked up a sheet of paper. Oh, no? They didn't want to limit him--they wanted everything. Here was this demand for a conclave.

And with that Waern kid running around loose, that was bad.

And he had no one to talk to! Of all the people in this palace, not a single one could serve as confidant. With Gorham gone----

He shuffled through the papers. Yes, here was the formal demand for a conclave. He looked at it unhappily.

And here was the transcript of the Waern claim. It looked too good.

He tossed the papers back to the desk. It was good, and he knew it.

He'd seen the originals in the heraldric files. They were destroyed, of course. But here was a photo of that clan book!

And worse, here was the notice from the Resident Commissioner that the claimant had requested protective intervention from the Galactic Federation. That was really bad. He could remember his interview with the commissioner on that.

Jackson had always been something of a problem. He was a stubborn man.