boucher book oct28.pdf - Index of

262 Anthony Boucher
“—and enterprises of great pith and moment,” Uranov was muttering, “with this
regard their currents turn awry, and lose the name of action—”
“Your moment is over,” S.B. announced. “You have proved your spiritual castration,
and from your impotence I have drawn fresh potency. Now I shall speak to my
multitude, and within the hour we shall have begun our march upon Luna City.
Our two-meter lovestonite disks—you did not know we had progressed to weapons
of such size and power?—shall attack and melt down the dome of the city, turning
the lunar night into the fatal glare of our new day, while—”
Both men seemed to move at once, so rapidly that Maureen Furness saw for a
moment only a confused blur of movement. Hesketh Uranov had leaped for the
knife, snatching it from the floor and driving it toward Breakstone’s heart. But at
the same instant, Gan Garrett sprang between. His right hand caught Uranov’s,
wrenched at the wrist, and forced the dagger down. His left connected squarely with
the point of Breakstone’s jaw.
Garrett stood looking down at the sprawled body of the producer-directorfuehrer.
“Failing my popgun,” he said, “my left is the best instantaneous anesthetic
I know.”
Uranov rubbed his aching wrist and grunted. “What good is that? Let me kill him.
I know the consequences. I know your W.B.I. oath and I know you’ll take me in and
have me sent on a one-way trip. But my life doesn’t count, and his death does.
“Uh-huh. So we kill Breakstone, and where are we? We’ve still got his henchmen
to reckon with, his gauleiters. The late Mr. Hartle can’t have been the only one. And
there’s still that mob outside, hungry for anything that isn’t peace. No, Breakstone
knew what he was doing when he made his big gesture.”
“It was the gestrue of a megalomaniac fool. They’ll all go too far and end by
destroying themselves. This gesture was Breakstone’s invasion of Russia.”
“It’s going to turn out that way, but he didn’t see that far. It made sense to him—a
psychological trick to bolster his own morale, and no danger attached. He knew we
were sensible enough to see that his death couldn’t possibly do any good.” Garrett
crossed to the unconscious Astra Ardless and picked up the pistol that had marred her
vanishing beauty. “It seems like years I’ve been on the track of this lovestonite weapon,
and this is the first time I’ve held one in my hand. Neat little gadget, isn’t it?”
“But what are we going to do?” Maureen protested. “You say S.B.’s death couldn’t
do us any good. Then what do we gain by just knocking him out?”
“Listen. You heard him mention two-meter lovestonite weapons for attacking
cities. I didn’t know they were working on such a scale. I wonder … yes, they could
be terrific. Use a huge aluminum-foil mirror for charging them … yes. All right.
Remember what he said about turning the night into a new day? Remember what
the men out there are rebelling against and what they want?”
The door dilated, and one of Breakstone’s guards stepped in. He found himself
looking straight into Garrett’s lovestonite pistol.
“Come on in,” Garrett urged politely. “Right this way. Take his pistol, Uranov,
and keep him covered.”
The man’s eyes went to S.B.’s body, then to Garrett’s face. His mouth half-opened,
but his eyes shifted to Garrett’s hand and he was silent.
“Good boy,” Garrett commended him. “I’ve got a little job for you.”