First Lensman by E. E. Smith (epub e ink reader .TXT) 📕

heredity; and that of Virgil Samms, with all that had made him First Lensman.

“Tell!” that terrific triple mind demanded, with a force which simply could not be denied. “Where are you from? Resistance is useless; yours or that of those whom you serve. Your bases and powers are smaller and weaker than ours, since Spaceways is only a corporation and we are the Galactic Patrol. Tell! Who are your bosses? Tell⁠—tell!”

Under that irresistible urge there appeared, foggily and without any hint of knowledge of name or of spatial coordinates, an embattled planet, very similar in a smaller way to the Patrol’s own Bennett, and⁠—

Even more foggily, but still not so blurred but that their features were unmistakeably recognizable, the images of two men. That of Murgatroyd, the pirate chief, completely strange to both Kinnison and Samms; and⁠—

Back of Murgatroyd and above him, that of⁠—

Big Jim Towne!

XIII

“First, about Murgatroyd.” In his office in the Hill Roderick Kinnison spoke aloud to the First Lensman. “What do you think should be done about him?”

“Murgatroyd. Hm⁠ ⁠… m⁠ ⁠… m.” Samms inhaled a mouthful of smoke and exhaled it slowly; watched it dissipate in the air. “Ah, yes, Murgatroyd.” He repeated the performance. “My thought, at the moment, is to let him alone.”

“Check,” Kinnison said. If Samms was surprised at his friend’s concurrence he did not show it. “Why? Let’s see if we check on that.”

“Because he does not seem to be of fundamental importance. Even if we could find him⁠ ⁠… and by the way, what do you think the chance is of our spies finding him?”

“Just about the same chance that theirs have of finding out about the Samms-Olmstead switch or our planet Bennett. Vanishingly small. Zero.”

“Right. And even if we could find him⁠—even find their secret base, which is certainly as well hidden as ours is⁠—it would do us no present good, because we could take no positive action. We have, I think, learned the prime fact; that Towne is actually Murgatroyd’s superior.”

“That’s the way I see it. We can almost draw an organization chart now.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘almost.’ ” Samms smiled half-ruefully. “There are gaping holes, and Isaacson is as yet a highly unknown quantity. I’ve tried to draw one a dozen times, but we haven’t got enough information. An incorrect chart, you know, would be worse than none at all. As soon as I can draw a correct one, I’ll show it to you. But in the meantime, the position of our friend James F. Towne is now clear. He is actually a Big Shot in both piracy and politics. That fact surprised me, even though it did clarify the picture tremendously.”

“Me, too. One good thing, we won’t have to hunt for him. You’ve been working on him right along, though, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but this new relationship throws light on a good many details which have been obscure. It also tends to strengthen our working hypothesis as to Isaacson⁠—which we can’t prove yet, of course⁠—that he is the actual working head of the drug syndicate. Vice-President in charge of Drugs, so to speak.”

“Huh? That’s a new one on me. I don’t see it.”

“There is very little doubt that at the top there is Morgan. He is, and has been for some time, the real boss of North America. Under him, probably taking orders direct, is President Witherspoon.”

“Undoubtedly. The Nationalist party is strictly à la machine, and Witherspoon is one of the world’s slimiest skinkers. Morgan is Chief Engineer of the Machine. Take it from there.”

“We know that Boss Jim is also in the top echelon⁠—quite possibly the Commander-in-Chief⁠—of the enemy’s Armed Forces. By analogy, and since Isaacson is apparently on the same level as Towne, immediately below Morgan.⁠ ⁠…”

“Wouldn’t there be three? Witherspoon?”

“I doubt it. My present idea is that Witherspoon is at least one level lower. Comparatively small fry.”

“Could be⁠—I’ll buy it. A nice picture, Virge; and beautifully symmetrical. His Mightiness Morgan. Secretary of War Towne and Secretary of Drugs Isaacson; and each of them putting a heavy shoulder behind the political bandwagon. Very nice. That makes Operation Mateese tougher than ever⁠—a triple-distilled toughie. Glad I told you it wasn’t my dish⁠—saves me the trouble of backing out now.”

“Yes, I have noticed how prone you are to duck tough jobs.” Samms smiled quietly. “However, unless I am even more mistaken than usual, you will be in it up to your not-so-small ears, my friend, before it is over.”

“Huh? How?” Kinnison demanded.

“That will, I hope, become clear very shortly.” Samms stubbed out the butt of his cigarette and lit another. “The basic problem can be stated very simply. How are we going to persuade the sovereign countries of Earth⁠—particularly the North American Continent⁠—to grant the Galactic Patrol the tremendous power and authority it will have to have?”

“Nice phrasing, Virge, and studied. Not off the cuff. But aren’t you overdrawing a bit? Little if any conflict. The Patrol would be pretty largely inter-systemic in scope⁠ ⁠… with of course the necessary interplanetary and intercontinental⁠ ⁠… and⁠ ⁠… um⁠ ⁠… m.⁠ ⁠…”

“Exactly.”

“But it’s logical enough, Virge, even at that, and has plenty of precedents, clear back to ancient history. ’Way back, before space-travel, when they first started to use atomic energy, and the only drugs they had to worry about were cocaine, morphine, heroin, and other purely Tellurian products. I was reading about it just the other day.”

Kinnison swung around, fingered a book out of a matched set, and riffled its leaves. “Russia was the world’s problem child then⁠—put up what they called an iron curtain⁠—wouldn’t play with the neighbors’ children, but picked up her marbles and went home. But yet⁠—here it is. Original source unknown⁠—some indications point to a report of somebody named Hoover, sometime in the nineteen forties or fifties, Gregorian calendar. Listen:

“ ‘This protocol’⁠—he’s talking about the agreement on worldwide Narcotics Control⁠—‘was signed by fifty-two nations, including the U.S.S.R.’⁠—that was Russia⁠—‘and its satellite states. It was the only international agreement to which the Communist countries’⁠—you know more about what Communism was,