Alternating Currents Read Free

preferably disabled, preferably who was actually involved in the bombing of the home planet—’
     
    I laid out a dozen more working lines, an art show of the Arcturan bas-relief stuff that was partly to look at but mostly to feel, a 3-V panel show on Arcturus that we could plant... the whole routine. None of it would do the job, but all of it would help until I got my bearings. Then I got down to business. ‘What’s the name of this fellow that’s running for councilman, Connick?’
     
    ‘That’s right,’ said Haber.
     
    ‘What’ve you got on him?’ I asked.
     
    I turned to Candace, who said promptly, ‘Forty-one years old, Methodist, married, three kids of his own plus one of the casualties, ran for State Senate last year and lost, but he carried Belport, running opposed to the referendum this year, very big in Junior Chamber of Commerce and VFW—’
     
    ‘No. What’ve you got on him?’ I persisted.
     
    Candace said slowly, ‘Gunner, look. This is a nice guy.’
     
    ‘Why, I know that, honey. I read his piece in the paper today. So now tell me the dirt that he can’t afford to have come out.’
     
    ‘It wouldn’t be fair to destroy him for nothing!’
     
    I brushed aside the ‘fair’ business. ‘What do you mean, “for nothing”?’
     
    ‘We’re not going to win this referendum, you know.’
     
    ‘Honey, I’ve got news for you. This is the biggest account anybody ever had and I want it. We will win. What’ve you got on Connick?’
     
    ‘Nothing. Really nothing,’ she said quietly.
     
    ‘But you can get it.’
     
    Candace said, visibly upset, ‘Of course, there’s probably some—’
     
    ‘Of course. Get it. Today.’
     
    ~ * ~
     
    2
     
    But I wasn’t relying totally on anyone, not even Candace. Since Connick was the central figure of the opposition I caught a cab and went to see him.
     
    It was already dark, a cold, clear night, and over the mushroom towers of the business district a quarter-moon was beginning to rise. I looked at it almost with affection, I had hated it so when I was there.
     
    As I paid the cab two kids in snowsuits came sidling out to inspect me. I said, ‘Hello. Is your Daddy home?’
     
    One was about five, with freckles and bright blue eyes; the other was darker, brown-eyed, and he had a limp. The blue-eyed one said, ‘Daddy’s down in the cellar. Mommy will let you in if you ring the doorbell. Just push that button.’
     
    ‘Oh, that’s how those things work. Thanks.’ Connick’s wife turned out to be a good-looking, skinny blonde in her thirties; and the kids must have raced around the back way and alerted the old man, because as she was taking my coat he was already coming through the hall.
     
    I shook his hand and said, ‘I can tell by the smells from your kitchen that it’s dinner time. I won’t keep you. My name is Gunnarsen and—’
     
    ‘And you’re from Moultrie & Bigelow - here, sit down, Mr Gunnarsen - and you want to know if I won’t think it over and back the Arcturan base. No, Mr Gunnarsen, I won’t. But why don’t you have a drink with me before dinner? And then why don’t you have dinner?’
     
    He was a genuine article, this Connick. I had to admit he had caught me off balance.
     
    ‘Why, I don’t mind if I do,’ I said after a moment. ‘I see you know why I’m here.’
     
    He was pouring drinks. ‘Well, not altogether, Mr Gunnarsen. You don’t really think you’ll change my mind, do you?’
     
    ‘I can’t say that until I know why you oppose the base in the first place, Connick. That’s what I want to find out.’
     
    He handed me a drink, sat down across from me and took a thoughtful pull at his own. It was good Scotch. Then he looked to see if the kids were within earshot, and said: ‘The thing is this, Mr Gunnarsen. If I could, I would kill every Arcturan alive, and if it meant I had to accept the death of a few million Earthmen to do it, that wouldn’t be too high a price. I don’t