The Lagrangists. Mack Reynolds
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to have mountains and rivers. There’s no reason why they can’t have skiing, for instance. It’s hard to think of a sport that isn’t more practical in one of those Islands, unless, perhaps, big game hunting.”
“There’s precious little of that left on Earth,” she said unhappily.
She thought for a few minutes; then, “Why can’t we buy in? We could liquidate our resort properties here on Earth and start new ones up above.”
The younger one said, “It’s all, thus far, a United States of the Americas governmental project. What might develop in the future is up for grabs, but I doubt if those colonists are going to put up with laissez faire capitalism. We don’t even have classical capitalism here on Earth any more. We call it Meritocracy, or People’s Capitalism, or whatever. Largely, it’s actually a form of State Capitalism in most countries, the government either owning outright most basic industries, or strongly controlling them. Corporations such as our International Diversified Industries are hard put to hang on.”
She grunted assent to that and remained silent for another time. They dared not interrupt her.
Finally, she said, “Very well, that will be all. I had already largely come to the same conclusions. If the Lagrange Five Project is allowed to continue, it will be a blow to the families from which we might never recover.” She eyed them coldly. “But now I wish to remind you that you are under your oath of Omerta, the code of honor and silence. None of what you have been involved in investigating must leak. Your oath of Omerta.”
Both blanched as they came to their feet.
The gutless one blurted, “Yes, Cousin Sophia, that is obvious.”
They left, a bit more precipitously than was ordinarily called for.
She thought for another long moment, breathing deeply, before turning to a phone screen on her desk. She flicked it on and said, “Let me talk to Caesar. Scrambled, of course, and on our organizational tightbeam.”
Shortly a face faded in. It was that of a man possibly in his seventies and gone over to fat, with protruding eyes.
He said, “Sophia! It is a long time, cara mia. You remain beautiful, but then, hah, you were a beauty since you were in your cradle.”
Sophia Anastasis said without preamble: “Uncle Caesar, I need six hit men.”
His eyes opened wide. “Sophia! You know we don’t do things that way no more.”
“I’ve got to have them. This is an important operation.”
He shook his head, his fat jowls wobbling. “Sophia, I tell you, that’s the old way. Who needs that kind of trouble, bambina?”
“Do I have to take it to Big Nick?”
He looked at her emptily. “Sophia,” he told her. “We don’t even have no hit men no more. It’s been a long time. I was a button man when I was a kid, maybe fifty years ago. The old days. I made my bones when I was maybe sixteen. But the new kids, they ain’t hit men. They’re all good family men, businessmen, even scientists and like that. Educated. I can’t even understand, mostly, what they’re talking about.”
“I need six hit men, Uncle Caesar. Do I take it to Big Nick? He’s getting a little old, older than you are, by far. You were a punk when Big Nick became head of the families. He doesn’t like to be bothered by things like this, Uncle Caesar, but it’s a big operation. The most important since… since the families had to dump Luciano.”
His face was wan. “Sophia, like I keep telling you, none of the boys are real soldiers no more.”
She said, “Uncle Caesar, I am sure we have young men in the families who have had military training…”
“Hell, we gotta army general.”
“…and some who have even seen combat in some of these minor brush wars. I want six family members who can take orders and who are familiar with firearms and such, and have taken their oath; ‘made’ guys. Is that clear, Uncle Caesar?”
He looked at her and shook his head in sorrow but said, “I will see about it, Sophia, cara mia.”
When his face had faded, Sophia Anastasis slumped back in her chair. “Zen,” she muttered fiercely. “Why did I ever get myself sucked into this job?”
She leaned back in the chair for long moments, her dark eyes half closed. Only a few hours ago she had heard on the Tri-Di news that Professor Casey and some of his staff were scheduled to make a trip to Lagrange Five and the construction ‘shack’ of Island One, on one of his periodic inspections. It was just as well. Anything that happened to him out there would be laid at the foot of his own people. Had it happened on Earth, suspicions would more likely be diverted elsewhere.
She flicked on her phone again and said, “Antonio? I want you to drop everything else and make arrangements for six of our men to go to this so-called Island One. It’s a very important assignment.”
“Island One? You mean this Lagrange Five Project?”
“Of course. And Antonio—I want men who do not scorn their fathers for being made guys—soldiers. It may come to that.”
The young man on her screen looked intrigued. “What would be their cover, Sophia?”
She thought about it. “Get them identity papers from Nassau. They are a group of resort entrepreneurs who are making preliminary investigations into the resort possibilities of Island One, possibly even a casino. If their investigations are satisfactory, they plan to approach the Lagrange Five authorities with a proposition. They’ll be well dressed, very presentable, very business-like. And very obedient, Antonio. A soldier must obey.”
He stared at her for a long moment, nodding, then evidently satisfied himself that he could comply. “I’ll look into it immediately, Sophia. When did you want them to leave?”
“Soonest.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Rex Bader frowned at Susie Hawkins. “No position?” he said. “Professor George R. Casey? Why, he’s the head of the whole operation. I just wondered what his official title was.”
Susie laughed wryly. “Nevertheless, he holds no governmental position. He still lives on his university salary.”
He couldn’t believe her and said, “You mean those dizzards in Greater Washington have squeezed him out of a project he practically came up with single-handed?”
Her smile was rueful now. “Not exactly. But, you see, in modern science single individuals seldom come up with a breakthrough. It’s invariably a team at work and the team might consist of a dozen, scores or even hundreds of persons. Who would you start with on the Manhattan Project? Einstein, Fermi, Oppenheimer? I could name a score of others who were vital members of that historic team.”
“But still, he’s George Casey, Father of the Lagrange Five Project. And you say that he’s not even connected with the space colonization.”
“Oh, that’s not what I said. I said he had no position, no title, no definite job. It’s his own suggestion. You see, the professor is a physicist, specializing in high energy experimental particle physics. The Lagrange Five Project involves practically every science known; everything from Astronomy to Zoology. Even such social sciences as socioeconomics. He does not consider himself to have the administrative training to coordinate all of the top men in all of these fields. There’s another thing, too: he doesn’t want to make a cent from the whole thing. If it became profitable to him, his enemies would have a lever to use against the project.”
“Well, what does he do then, so important that somebody is trying to chill his old bones?”
She bit her lower lip, as though wondering how to put it. Then: “It’s like I said back at your apartment. He’s our catalyst, our inspiration. He’s the man we all love. As you put it, he’s the Father of the Lagrange Five Project.”
“Or