Childhood's End - Arthur C. Clarke [13]
Joe had related the whole story with such obvious gusto that Stormgren could hardly help smiling. Yet he also felt very disturbed. The plan was an ingenious one, and it was quite possible that Karellen had been deceived. Stormgren was not even certain that the Overlord kept any form of protective surveillance over him. Nor, clearly, was Joe. Perhaps that was why he had been so frank-he wanted to test Stormgren's reactions. Well, he would try to appear confident, whatever his real feelings might be.
"You must be a lot of fools," said Stormgren scornfully, "if you think you can trick the Overlords as easily as this. In any case, what conceivable good will it do?"
Joe offered him a cigarette, which Stormgren refused, then lit one himself and sat on the edge of the table. There was an ominous creaking and he jumped off hastily.
"Our motives," he began, "should be pretty obvious. We've found arguments useless, so we have to take other measures. There have been underground movements before, and even Karellen, whatever powers he's got, won't find it easy to deal with us. We're out to fight for our independence. Don't misunderstand me. There'll be nothing violent-at first anyway-but the Overlords have to use human agents, and we can make it mighty uncomfortable for them."
Starting with me, I suppose, thought Stormgren. He wondered if the other had given him more than a fraction of the whole story. Did they really think that these gangster methods would influence Karellen in the slightest? On the other hand, it was quite true that a well-organized resistance movement could make life very difficult. For Joe had put his finger on the one weak spot in the Overlords' rule. Ultimately, all their orders were carried out by human agents. If these were terrorized into disobedience, the whole system might collapse. It was only a faint possibility, for Stormgren felt confident that Karellen would soon find some solution.
"What do you intend to do with me?" asked Stormgren at length. "Am I a hostage, or what?"
"Don't worry-we'll look after you. We expect some visitors in a few days, and until then we'll entertain you as well as we can."
He added some words in his own language, and one of the others produced a brand-new pack of cards.
"We got these especially for you," explained Joe. "I read in Time the other day that you were a good poker player." His voice suddenly became grave. "I hope there's plenty of cash in your wallet," he said anxiously. "We never thought of looking. After all, we can hardly accept cheques."
Quite overcome, Stormgren stared blankly at his captors.
Then, as the true humour of the situation sank into his mind, it suddenly seemed to him that all the cares and worries of office had lifted from his shoulders. From now on, it was Van Ryberg's show. Whatever happened, there was absolutely nothing he could do about it-and now these fantastic criminals were anxiously waiting to play poker with him.
Abruptly, he threw back his head and laughed as he had not done for years.
***
There was no doubt, thought Van Ryberg morosely, that Wainwright was telling the truth. He might have his suspicions, but he did not know who had kidnapped Stormgren. Nor did he approve of the kidnapping itself; Van Ryberg had a shrewd idea that for some time extremists in the Freedom League had been putting pressure on Wainwright to make him adopt a more active policy. Now they were taking