Joe said, “Why do we always get into these squabbles, which usually wind up with you giving me a lecture? Let’s talk about something more interesting.”
“Such as what,” she said severely. “Your socioeconomic education has been sorely neglected, and we both belong to an organization dedicated to overthrowing the present politico-economic system.”
“Such as us. When are we going to be married? I can’t wait much longer.”
She put her fork down and looked at him compassionately. She said, her voice low, “I’m afraid it’s going to have to be put off indefinitely, darling.”
“What!”
“The details are beyond me. The lawyers have tried to explain, but I know nothing about law. However, if I marry, evidently there are some loopholes that would allow my brother, Balt, to take over the greater part of my holdings in Vacuum Tube Transport. You see, with the death of my father, Balt became the new Baron Haer, although he himself has little of the stock. For inheritance reasons, tax reasons, father had transferred most of his own holdings to Balt. When it seemed obvious that Continental Hovercraft would win the fracas between the two corporations, Balt secretly sold all the stock and invested it in Continental. But through your efforts, we didn’t lose. Balt, infuriated at you, sold his Continental at a great loss and reinvested in our corporation. But he doesn’t have much voting power now.”
Joe said, “What in the hell’s all this got to do with our marriage?”
“I tell you, Joe darling, I don’t know all of the details. But Balt is now the legal Baron of the family. If I get married, he’s in a position to take over control of the greater part of my holdings.”
Joe Mauser was furious. “Well, let him! It’s only money. We’ve got plenty. I have a few shares of Variable and we both have our dividends as Uppers, from our Inalienable Basic Shares. We can live without your Vacuum Tube Transport holdings.”
She looked at him sadly. “Joe, you forget. We both belong to the organization. Any revolutionary movement needs funds. I am plowing most of my dividends into its coffers.”
“Damn it! I want you.”
She put a hand on his arm, and for the first time since he had met her, there was a demure look on her face. She cast her eyes down to where her fingers fiddled with her fork. She said, “Joe, I am not adverse to sleeping with you.”
Chapter Six
Joe gaped at her.
It was not that he was an innocent. In his thirties, now, Joe had in his time bedded many a woman, most of them hot-eyed fracas-buffs anxious to put out for a man she might see the next day in action on her telly. Might even see him kill—or be killed. Frankly, he had a certain dislike of the type. But there you were. A beautiful girl offering her body, for absolutely free, and for all you knew tomorrow you might get into the dill and cop one, perhaps the final one. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. At least, it was better than buying it. There had been others, down through the years. Indeed, he had had several serious affairs and had even considered marriage. However, his ambition had driven him. He rebelled against being tied down to a Lower or Middle wife, who might be a drag on his ever attaining Upper caste. Category Military was one of the few in which bounces in caste could be comparatively quick, if you proved yourself and received promotions. It didn’t help to have a poorly-educated wife.
She said, a trifle tartly, “Don’t you want me?”
“Yes, of course. I’ve always wanted you. Since the first time I saw you.”
The thing was, Joe Mauser had never really gotten over the fact that he was in love with an Upper and that she returned his affection. He still retained that built-in awe of the born aristocrat. It was as though he was a serf courting the Duke’s daughter. Did a Duchess ever eat anything as plebian as bread? Did she ever sleep on anything less than silk? Did her bowels ever move, or did she ever have to relieve her bladder? Above all, would she ever submit to sex with a lout such as himself? Joe Mauser had desired Nadine Haer as he had never desired another woman in his life, but subconsciously he had never, never really expected the day to come when he would penetrate her sexually.
She was saying, gently, “Joe, I am not a virgin. I am nearly as old as you are. I am an M.D., and I have no religious scruples, so it’s not to be expected of me. I have not been… promiscuous, but I am not a virgin. One of the reasons that I am so anti-fracas is that my first… lover, to whom I was also engaged, Joe, was in the Category Military. He, I believe the term you use is copped one, when he was only twenty-two.”
“I don’t know why I should argue,” Joe said, smiling at her. “How long will this hassle of yours with your brother continue?”
“The lawyers say it might remain in the courts for years. Balt will never let go of his semi-control of my holdings if he can help it, especially the voting rights. And he still remains Baron of the Haer family.” She snorted disgust. “They call it People’s Capitalism. Industrial Feudalism is the better term.”
Through all this, they had been nibbling at their lunch. Neither had much appetite, although the food of the Swank Room was delicious. Spontaneously, both of them put down their utensils.
“When was Holland due at your place?” Joe said.
“This afternoon. Perhaps we should go.”
Joe brought forth his universal credit card and put it in the table’s payment slot.
He grinned at her. “That sounds good to me. Obviously, I’m anxious to get you alone.”
She made a face at him. “Darling, you’re so ardent,” she said.
They took a hovercab out to the Haer mansion on the outskirts of the city. On the way, Joe Mauser opaqued the windows and took her, unresistingly, into his arms.
“Can’t you wait until we get home?” she asked.
“No,” he said, kissing her.
He was aware of the fullness of her breasts against his chest, doubly aware of the firmness of her thigh against him. He cupped one of her breasts in his hand and felt the nipple respond. Nadine Haer was all woman. They had kissed before, certainly, and often, but this was the first time he had intimately fondled her. She obviously didn’t mind. He suspected that she was as keen to sleep with him as he was with her.
They pulled up before the palatial residence of the Haers. Before they could get to the door, it opened and the butler politely greeted them.
“Good afternoon, Donald,” Nadine said. “I am expecting Mr. Holland. Show him in immediately.”
“Yes, Doctor Haer.”
Save for the usual batman during a fracas, Joe Mauser had never had a servant. It fact, he had never known of a servant in these days of automation, except in the homes of the Uppers. He didn’t know, but he suspected that there were at least a dozen of them in the Haer home.
They strode toward the living room, Joe looking about him appreciatively. Admittedly, the place was furnished and decorated in the best of taste. The paintings were originals and some were obviously worth a fortune. He suspected that Nadine had done much of the decorating.
He said to her, “What’s going to happen to the Uppers when this socioeconomic change of ours takes place?”
“We’ll put them to work, like everybody else,” she said crisply.
“And what’ll happen to houses like this?”
“Why…I don’t know. We’ll change them to rest houses, nursing homes, something like that, I suppose.”
They entered the spacious living room, Nadine saying over her shoulder, “Drink? Perhaps a cognac?”
“Fine,” Joe said.
Balt Haer got up from the sofa on which he had been seated, at first unseen by them.
There was a strong family resemblance between him and Nadine. But there was something else about him. He had the aloof look of the aristocrat.
“Well,” he said, “the ambitious ex-Major Joseph Mauser. The only man I have ever heard of to scheme his way up from the ranks of the Lowers to become an Upper. The Department of Categories must be out of their minds. If every Tom, Dick and… Joe can become a member of the Upper caste, why have castes at all?”
“Oh, come off it, Balt,” Nadine said, heading for the bar. “Joe is my guest. He didn’t come here to be insulted.”
Joe said evenly, “Good afternoon, Baron Haer.”
Balt ignored him and said to Nadine, “What did he come here for? I’ve wondered about the truth behind’ his expedition to Budapest, which resulted in his being bounced two full castes.”
“I’m afraid that’s a state secret, Baron,” Joe said. He had no intention of allowing the other to irritate him.
“There’s something unusual about the whole thing,” the other said, his nostrils flaring. “With no background in diplomacy whatsoever, you are named a member of our embassy in Budapest, you go over there, and you kill a Hungarian officer in a duel, then come scurrying back after being declared! persona non grata.”
“I was a military attaché,” Joe said mildly.
The fact of the matter was, both Joe and Nadine knew, that he had been sent to the Sov-world by Hodgson and Holland to contact the Sov underground. They wanted to be sure of what might happen if the United States of the Americas was temporarily in a state of confusion during a change in socioeconomic systems To their relief, Joe had discovered that there was an equivalent organization in the Sov-world which wished to overthrow the Communist Party, which had become as hereditary and worthless as the Uppers in the West-world.
Nadine came back with two cognacs and handed one of them to Joe. She said politely, “Drink, Balt?”
“Certainly not” he snapped. “I don’t drink with my inferiors. I came here to discuss some legal matters with you, Nadine.”
She said coldly, “Who are your inferiors, Balt? Take up the legal problems with my lawyers. I know what you are trying to do and will fight you all the way down the line. You threw away your own inheritance, and now you want to get your hands on mine.”
He was infuriated and glared from her to Joe. Joe calmly sipped at the brandy.
Balt Haer said, “I refuse to discuss this in front of a stranger.” He headed for the door.
When he was gone, Joe said, “I thought your brother lived here.”
“No longer,” Nadine said. “He’s moved to one of his clubs. I got the feeling that he didn’t want me around to overhear some of his Nathan Hale Society meetings. He knows very well that I’m connected with what he calls a subversive organization.”
She sat down with her drink, and he took a chair across from her. He looked down into his snifter glass.
“You know,” he said thoughtfully, slowly. “I’m beginning to wonder about that attack on me in Mexico.
“How do you mean, darling?”
“What rank does your brother hold in it?”
“Why, he’s the head man in Greater Washington, the National Headquarters, and a member of the National Committee.”
“And he knows that you belong to a radical organization? Even if he didn’t hate my guts, he’d probably suspect that I, too, belong. That outfit maintains a squad of goons, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” she said in undisguised disgust. “They’re terrible. If someone makes a public statement even mildly opposed to some aspect of People’s Capitalism, they’ll go around and beat him up. It’s suspect that they have actually assassinated some of the more vocal opponents of the Ultra-Welfare State.”
“So one of Balt’s goons might have planted a directional bug in my car, and several of them might have followed me down to Mexico and waited for me to get off the beaten trail, where they could finish me off.”
She pressed her elbows tightly against her sides in a gesture of feminine rejection. She said in protest, “But he’s my brother, darling.”
“And one of the most reactionary funkers I’ve ever met.”
“But surely he must realize that I love you,” she said. “Surely it shows.”
“And he’d rather you be married to a pig, I’m an Upper now, but he doesn’t really consider anyone an Upper unless he was born into the caste. For him, I’m still a Lower and a born slob.”
A voice from the door said, “Am I interrupting anything?”
It was Philip Holland, Category Government, Rank Secretary, Middle-Middle. But he was much more than that. He was the secretary of Harlow Mannerheim, Minister of Foreign Affairs, alcoholic extraordinary. Philip Holland was the brains behind the throne. He did the actual work. Mannerheim, an Upper-Upper, often didn’t even bother to come to his offices for weeks on end. When he did, he didn’t have the vaguest idea of what was going on.
Philip Holland was about forty, physically on the slight side. He had a way of cocking his head and chuckling when he made a point, and seemed just slightly stuffy. Joe had long suspected that he had a thing going for Nadine and wasn’t happy about Joe Mauser moving in. However, with Frank Hodgson, he was top man in the organization and was dedicated enough to know that Joe Mauser was a valuable ally Nadine said, “Phil! How are you?”
“Wizard, my dear. And you look well.” He looked over at Joe. “You’re back awfully soon. We expected your expedition to take a week or so.”
Nadine stood and went over to the bar. “Martini?” she said, obviously knowing the other’s preference.
Joe felt a twinge. Nadine had said that she wasn’t a virgin. Had Phil Holland been one of her lovers? And then he felt like a cloddy. Jealousy at his age? The most sterile of all emotions.
“It’s a little early, but yes,” the bureaucrat said to Nadine. And then to Joe, “How did it come off?”
Joe finished his brandy and put down the snifter glass and told him in detail.
“Two hundred new members!” Holland marvelled. “And largely Middles. We need more Middles. Things are beginning to move, perhaps. However, I don’t like that attack upon you.”
“Neither did I,” Joe said dryly. “In spite of my former profession, I loath being shot at.”
Nadine had brought Holland’s drink to him and sat down.
Phil Holland sipped at his Martini, then said to Joe, “Do you have any idea of who might have taken that crack at you?”
“I suspect Balt’s Nathan Hale Society. He’s fanatical about subversives and he accuses Nadine of being one. And, of course, I see a great deal of Nadine. He probably adds two and two together adequately, though otherwise he doesn’t seem to be very astute.”