Caves of Steel - Isaac Asimov [39]
“Thank you, Dr. Fastolfe,” said Baley. “Your attitude is appreciated.”
So much, he thought, for the amenities. He bit into the center of the apple and hard, dark little ovoids popped into his mouth. He spat automatically. They flew out and fell to the ground. One would have struck Fastolfe’s leg had not the Spacer moved it hastily.
Baley reddened, started to bend.
Fastolfe said, pleasantly, “It is quite all right, Mr. Baley. Just leave them, please.”
Baley straightened again. He put the apple down gingerly. He had the uncomfortable feeling that once he was gone, the lost little objects would be found and picked up by suction; the bowl of fruit would be burnt or discarded far from Spacetown; the very room they were sitting in would be sprayed with viricide.
He covered his embarrassment with brusqueness. He said, “I would like to ask permission to have Commissioner Enderby join our conference by trimensional personification.”
Fastolfe’s eyebrows raised. “Certainly, if you wish it. Daneel, would you make the connection?”
Baley sat in stiff discomfort until the shiny surface of the large parallelepiped in one corner of the room dissolved away to show Commissioner Julius Enderby and part of his desk. At that moment, the discomfort eased and Baley felt nothing short of love for that familiar figure, and a longing to be safely back in that office with him or anywhere in the City, for that matter. Even in the least prepossessing portion of the Jersey yeast-vat districts.
Now that he had his witness, Baley saw no reason for delay. He said, “I believe I have penetrated the mystery surrounding the death of Dr. Sarton.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Enderby springing to his feet and grabbing wildly (and successfully) at his flying spectacles. By standing, the Commissioner thrust his head out of limits of the trimensic receiver and was forced to sit down again, red-faced and speechless.
In a much quieter way, Dr. Fastolfe, head inclined to one side, was startled. Only R. Daneel was unmoved.
“Do you mean,” said Fastolfe, “that you know the murderer?”
“No,” said Baley, “I mean there was no murder.”
“What!” screamed Enderby.
“One moment, Commissioner Enderby,” said Fastolfe, raising a hand. His eyes held Baley’s and he said, “Do you mean that Dr. Sarton is alive?”
“Yes, sir, and I believe I know where he is.”
“Where?”
“Right there,” said Baley, and pointed firmly at R. Daneel Olivaw.
8.
DEBATE OVER A ROBOT
At the moment, Baley was most conscious of the thud of his own pulse. He seemed to be living in a moment of supsended time. R. Daneel’s expression was, as always, empty of emotion. Han Fastolfe wore a look of well-bred astonishment on his face and nothing more.
It was Commissioner Julius Enderby’s reaction that most concerned Baley, however. The trimensic receiver out of which his face stared did not allow of perfect reproduction. There was always that tiny flicker and that not-quite-ideal resolution. Through that imperfection and through the further masking of the Commissioner’s spectacles, Enderby’s eyes were unreadable.
Baley thought: Don’t go to pieces on me, Julius. I need you.
He didn’t really think that Fastolfe would act in haste or under emotional impulse. He had read somewhere once that Spacers had no religion, but substituted, instead, a cold and phlegmatic intellectualism raised to the heights of a philosophy. He believed that and counted on it. They would make a point of acting slowly and then only on the basis of reason.
If he were alone among them and had said what he had said, he was certain that he would never have returned to the City. Cold reason would have dictated that. The Spacers’ plans were more to them, many times over, than the life of a City dweller. There would be some excuse made to Julius Enderby. Maybe they would present his corpse to the Commissioner, shake their heads, and speak of an Earthman conspiracy having struck again. The Commissioner would believe them. It was the way he was built. If he hated Spacers,