Foundation's Edge - Isaac Asimov [10]
Kodell took back his hand and shook his head slowly. "Really, Trevize," he said. "You are a fool."
4.
IT WAS NOT TILL MIDNIGHT THAT TWO GUARDS came to remove Trevize from what was, he had to admit, a luxurious room at Security Headquarters. Luxurious but locked. A prison cell by any name.
Trevize had over four hours to second-guess himself bitterly, striding restlessly across the floor for much of the period.
Why did he trust Compor?
Why not? He had seemed so clearly in agreement. --No, not that. He had seemed so ready to be argued into agreement. --No, not that, either. He had seemed so stupid, so easily dominated, so surely lacking a mind and opinions of his own that Trevize enjoyed the chance of using him as a comfortable sounding board. Compor had helped Trevize improve and hone his opinions. He had been useful and Trevize had trusted him for no other reason than that it had been convenient to do so.
But it was useless now to try to decide whether he ought to have seen through Compor. He should have followed the simple generalization: Trust nobody.
Yet can one go through life trusting nobody?
Clearly one had to.
And who would have thought that Branno would have had the audacity to pluck a Councilman out of the Council--and that not one of the other Councilmen would move to protect one of their own? Though they had disagreed with Trevize to their very hearts; though they would have been ready to bet their blood, drop by drop, on Branno's rightness; they should still, on principle, have interposed themselves against this violation of their prerogatives. Branno the Bronze she was sometimes called, and she certainly acted with metallic rigor--
Unless she herself was already in the grip--
No! That way led to paranoia!
And yet--
His mind tiptoed in circles, and had not broken out of uselessly repetitive thought when the guards came.
"You will have to come with us, Councilman," the senior of the two said with unemotional gravity. His insignia showed him to be a lieutenant. He had a small scar on his right cheek, and he looked tired, as though he had been at his job too long and had done too little--as might be expected of a soldier whose people had been at peace for over a century.
Trevize did not budge. "Your name, Lieutenant."
"I am Lieutenant Evander Sopellor, Councilman."
"You realize you are breaking the law, Lieutenant Sopellor. You cannot arrest a Councilman."
The lieutenant said, "We have our direct orders, sir."
"That does not matter. You cannot be ordered to arrest a Councilman. You must understand that you will be liable for court-martial as a result."
The lieutenant said, "You are not being arrested, Councilman."
"Then I don't have to go with you, do I?"
"We have been instructed to escort you to your home."
"I know the way."
"And to protect you en route."
"From what? --Or from whom?"
"From any mob that may gather."
"At midnight?"
"It is why we have waited for midnight, sir. --And now, sir, for your protection we must ask you to come with us. May I say--not as a threat but as a matter of information--that we are authorized to use force if necessary."
Trevize was aware of the neuronic whips with which they were armed. He rose with what he hoped was dignity. "To my home, then. --Or will I find out that you are going to take me to prison?"
"We have not been instructed to lie to you, sir," said the lieutenant with a pride of his own. Trevize became aware that he was in the presence of a professional man who would require a direct order before he would lie--and that even then his expression and his tone of voice would give him away.
Trevize said, "I ask your pardon, Lieutenant. I did not mean to imply that I doubted your word."
A ground-car was waiting for them outside. The street was empty and there was no sign of any human being, let alone a mob--but