Chapter IX: Part 9

“Do you regret all this, Iris?” I asked. It had been some time, three years, since I had spoken to her of ourselves, of personal matters: we had become, in a sense, the offices which we held; our symbolic selves paralyzing all else within, true precedent achieved at a great cost. Now a fissure had suddenly appeared in that monument which Iris had become and, through the flaw, I heard again, briefly, the voice of the girl I had met on the bank of the Hudson in the spring of a lost year.

“I never knew it would be like this,” she said, almost whispering, her eyes on Cave while she spoke to me. “I never thought my life would be as alone as this, all work.”

“Yet you wanted it: you _do_ want it. Direction, meaning, you wanted all that and now you have it. The magic worked, Iris. Your magician was real.”

“But I sometimes wonder if _I_ am real anymore.” The words, though softly spoken, fell upon my ear like rounded stones, smooth and hard.

“It’s too late,” I said, mercilessly. “You are what you wanted to be. Live it out, Iris. There is nothing else.”

“You’re dead too,” she said at last, her voice regaining its usual authority.

“Speaking of dead,” said Cave suddenly turning toward us (I hoped he had not heard all our conversation), “Stokharin here has come up with a wonderful scheme.”

Even Clarissa fell silent. We all did whenever Cave spoke which was seldom on social occasions. Cave looked cheerfully about the table for a moment. Stokharin beamed with pleasure at the accolade.

“You’ve probably all heard about the suicides as a result of Cavesword.” Cave had very early got into the habit of speaking of himself in the third person whenever a point or doctrine was involved. “Paul’s been collecting the monthly figures and each month they double. Of course they’re not accurate since there are a good many deaths due to Cavesword which we don’t hear about. Anyway, Stokharin has perfected a painless death by poison, a new compound which kills within an hour and is delightful to take.”

“I have combined certain narcotics which together insure a highly exhilarated state before the end, as well as most pleasant fantasies.” Stokharin smiled complacently.

Cave nodded and continued. “I’ve already worked out some of the practical details for putting this into action. There are still a lot of wrinkles, but we can iron them out in time. One of the big problems of present-day _unorganized_ suicide is the mess it causes for the people unfortunate enough to be left behind. There are legal complications; there is occasionally grief in old-fashioned family groups; there is also a general disturbance which, though only social, still tends to leave a bad taste, giving suicide, at least among the reactionaries, a bad name.

“Our plan is simple. We will provide at each Center full faculties for those who have listened to Cavesword and have responded to it by taking the better way. There will be a number of comfortable rooms where the suicidalist may receive his friends for a last visit. We’ll provide legal assistance to put his affairs in order. Not everyone of course will be worthy of us. Those who choose death merely to evade responsibility will be censured and restrained. But the deserving, those whose lives have been devoted and orderly, may come to us and receive the gift.”

I was appalled; before I could control myself I had said: “But the law! You just can’t let people kill themselves....”

“Why not?” Cave looked at me coldly and I saw, in the eyes of the others, concern and hostility. I had anticipated something like this ever since my talk with Paul but I had not thought it would come so swiftly or so boldly.

Paul spoke for Cave. “We’ve got the Congress and the Congress will make a law for us. For the time being, though, it _is_ against the present statutes; however, we’ve been assured by our lawyers that there isn’t much chance of their being invoked except perhaps in the remaining pockets of Christianity where we’ll go slow until we do have the necessary laws to protect us.”

At that moment the line which had, from the very beginning, been visibly drawn between me and them, became a wall apparent to everyone. Even Clarissa, my usual ally, fearless and sharp, did not speak out. They looked at me, all of them awaiting a sign; even Cave regarded me with curiosity.

My hand shook and I was forced to seize the edge of the table to steady myself. The sensation of cold glass and iron gave me a sudden courage. I brought Cave’s life to its end.

I turned to him and said, quietly, with all the firmness I could summon: “Then you’ll have to die as well as they, and soon.”

There was a shocked silence. Iris shut her eyes. Paul gasped and sat back abruptly in his chair. Cave turned white but he did not flinch. His eyes did not waver. They seized on mine, terrible and remote, full of power; with an effort, I looked past him. I still feared his gaze.

“What did you say?” The voice was curiously mild yet it increased rather than diminished the tension. We had reached the crisis, without a plan.

“You have removed the fear of death for which future generations will thank you, as I do. But you have gone too far ... all of you.” I looked about me at the pale faces; a faint wisp of new moon curled in the pale sky above. “Life is to be lived until the flesh no longer supports the life within. The meaning of life, Cave, is more life, not death. The enemy of life is death, an enemy not to be feared but no less hostile for all that, no less dangerous, no less wrong when the living choose it instead of life, either for themselves or for others. You’ve been able to dispel our fear of the common adversary; that was your great work in the world ... now you want to go further, to make love to this enemy we no longer fear, to mate with death ... and it is here that you, all of you, become the enemies of life.”

“Stop it!” Iris’s voice was high and clear. I did not look at her. All that I could do now was to force the climax.

“But sooner or later every act of human folly creates its own opposition. This will too, more soon than late, for if one can make any generality about human beings it is that they want _not_ to die. You cannot stampede them into death for long. They are enthusiastic now. They may not be soon ... unless of course there is some supreme example before them, one which you, Cave, can alone supply. _You_ will have to die by your own hand to show the virtue and the truth of all that you have said.”

I had gone as far as I could. I glanced at Iris while I spoke; she had grown white and old-looking and, while I watched her, I realized whom it was she resembled, the obscure nagging memory which had disturbed me all through dinner: she was like my mother, a woman long dead, one whose gentle blurred features had been strikingly similar to that frightened face which now stared at me as though I were a murderer.

Paul was the one who answered me. “You’re out of your mind, Gene,” he said, when my meaning had at least penetrated to them all. “It doesn’t follow in the least that Cave must die because others want to. The main work is still ahead of him. This country is only a corner of the world. There’s some of Europe and most of Asia and Africa still ahead of us. How can you even suggest he quit now and die?”

“The work will be done whether he lives or not, as you certainly know. He’s given it the first impetus. The rest is up to the others, to the ambitious, the inspired ... we’ve met enough of _them_ these last few years: they’re quite capable of finishing the work without us.”

“But it’s nothing without Cave.”

I shrugged. I was suddenly relieved as the restraint of three furious years went in a rush. “I am as devoted to Cave as anyone,” I said (and I was, I think, honest). “I don’t want him to die but all of you in your madness have made it impossible for him to live. He’s gone now to the limit, to the last boundary: he is the son of death and each of you supports him. I don’t, for it was only my wish to make life better, not death desirable. I never really believed it would come to this: that you, Cave, would speak out for death, against life.” I raised my eyes to his. To my astonishment he had lowered his lids as though to hide from me, to shut me out. His head was shaking oddly from left to right and his lips were pressed tight together.

I struck again, without mercy. “But don’t stop now. You’ve got your wish. By all means, build palaces if you like for those who choose to die in your name. But remember that you will be their victim, too. The victim of their passionate trust. They will force you to lead the way and _you_ must be death’s lover, Cave.”

He opened his eyes and I was shocked to see them full of tears. “I’m not afraid,” he said.

NINE

1

A few days after our disastrous dinner, Clarissa came to me in my office. It was our first real meeting since her return from Europe. It was also my first meeting with any one of the directors for, since the scene on the penthouse terrace, none had come near me, not even Paul whom I usually saw at least once a day.

Clarissa seemed tired but fashionable in summer lace. She sat down heavily in the chair beside my desk and looked at me oddly. “Recriminations?” I asked cheerfully: the recent outburst had restored me to perfect health and equanimity. I was prepared for anything, especially battle.

“You’re an absolute fool and you know it,” she said at last. “I suppose there are wires in here, recording everything we say.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised. Fortunately, I have no secrets.”

“There’s no doubt of that,” she glared at me. “There was no need to rush things.”

“You mean you anticipated this?”

“What else? Where else could it lead? The same thing happened to Christ, you know. They kept pushing him to claim the kingdom. Finally, they pushed too hard and he was killed. It was the killing which perpetuated the legend.”

“And a number of other things.”

“In any case, it’s all gone too far. Also, I don’t think you even begin to see what you’ve done.”

“Done? I’ve merely brought the whole thing into the open ... as well as put myself on record as being opposed to this ... this passion for death.”

“That of course is nonsense. Just because a few nitwits....”

“A few? Have you seen the statistics? Every month there are a few hundred more and as soon as Stokharin gets his damned roadhouses for would-be suicides going we may find that....”

“I always assumed Paul made up the statistics. But even if they _are_ true, even if a few hundred thousand people decide to slip away every year, I am in favor of it. There are too many people as it is and most of them aren’t worth the room they take up. I suspect all this is just one of nature’s little devices to reduce the population ... like pederasty on those Greek islands.”

“You’re outrageous.”

“I’m perfectly rational which is more than I can say for you. Anyway, the reason I’ve come to see you today is, first, to warn you and, second, to say good-by.”

“Good-by? You’re not....”

“Going to kill myself?” she laughed. “Not in a hundred years ... though I must say lately I’ve begun to feel old. No, I’m going away. I’ve told Paul that I’ve had my fun, that you’re all on your own and that I want no part of what’s to come.”

“Where will you go?”

“Who knows? Now for the warning: Paul of course is furious at you and so is Iris.”

“Perfectly understandable. What did he say?”

“Nothing good. I talked to him this morning. I won’t enrage you by repeating all the expletives; it’s enough to say he’s eager to get you out of the way. He feels you’ve been a malcontent all along.”

“He’ll have trouble getting me to take Stokharin’s magic pill.”

“He may not leave it up to you,” said Clarissa significantly, and, inadvertently, I shuddered. I had of course wondered if they would dare go so far. I had doubted it but the matter-of-fact Clarissa enlightened me. “Watch out for him, especially if he becomes friendly. You must remember that with the country Cavite and with Paul in charge of the organization you haven’t much chance.”

“I’ll take what I have.”

Clarissa looked at me without, I could see, much hope; it was disagreeable. “What you don’t know, and this is my last good deed for in a sense I’m responsible for getting you into this, is that you accidentally gave the game away.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that Paul has been planning for over a year to do away with Cave. He feels that Cave’s usefulness is over; he’s also uneasy about letting him loose in the world. Paul wants full control of the establishment and he can’t have it while Cave lives. Paul also realizes ... he’s much cleverer than you’ve ever thought, by the way ... that the Cavites need a symbol, some great sacrifice and obviously Cave’s suicide is the answer. It is Paul’s intention either to get Cave to kill himself or else to do it for him and then announce that Cave, of his own free will, chose to die.”

I had the brief sensation of a man drowning. “How do you know all this?”

“I have two eyes; also, Iris told me.”

“She knows too?”

“Of course she knows! Why else do you think she’s so anxious to get Cave away from this place? She knows Paul can have him killed at any time and no one would be the wiser.”

I grunted with amazement: I understood now what it was that had happened on the terrace. I felt a perfect fool. Of them all I alone had been unaware of what was going on beneath the surface and, in my folly, I had detonated the situation without knowing it. “_He_ knows too?” I asked weakly.

“Of course he does; he’s on his guard every minute against Paul.”

“Why has no one ever told me this?”

Clarissa shrugged. “They had no idea which side you’d take. They still don’t know. Paul believes that you are with him and though he curses you for an impetuous fool, he’s decided that perhaps it’s a good idea now to bring all this into the open, at least among ourselves. He hopes for a majority vote in the directors’ meeting to force Cave to kill himself.”

“And Cave?”

“Has no wish to die ... sensible man.”

“I am a fool.”

“What I’ve always told you, dear.” Clarissa smiled at me. “I will say, though, that you are the only one of the lot who has acted for an impersonal reason, and certainly none of them understands you except me. I am on your side, in a way. Voluntary deaths don’t alarm me the way they do you but this obsession which Cave has of death being preferable to life may have ghastly consequences.”

“What can I do?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea. It’s enough that you were warned in advance.”

“What would _you_ do?”

“Exactly what I’m going to do: pull out for good and take a long trip.”

“I mean if you were I.”

She sighed. “Save your life, if possible; that’s all you can do.”

“I have a few weapons, you know. I have the _Journal_ and I’m a director. I have friends in every Center.” This was almost true. I had made a point of knowing as many Residents as possible. “I also have Iris and Cave on my side since I’m willing to do all I can to keep him alive, that he _not_ become a supreme symbol.”

“I wish you luck,” Clarissa was most cynical. She rose. “Now that I’ve done my bit of informing, I’m off.”

“Europe?”

“None of your business. But I _will_ tell you I won’t go back there: they’ve gone quite mad too. In Madrid I pretended to be a Catholic and I watched them put Cavites up before firing squads. Of course our people, despite persecution, are having a wonderfully _exciting_ time with passwords and peculiar college fraternity handclasps and so on.” She collected her gloves and handbag from the floor where, as usual, she had strewn them. “Well, now good-by.” She gave me a kiss; then she was gone. I never saw her again.

2

Events moved rapidly. I took to bolting my bedroom door at night and, during the day, I was careful always to have one or another of my assistants near me. It was a strange sensation to be living in a modern city with all its police and courts and yet to fear that, in a crisis, there would be no succor, no one to turn to for aid and protection. We were a separate government within the nation and the laws did not reach us.

The day after Clarissa had said good-by, Paul appeared in my office. I was surrounded by editors but at a look from him and a gesture from me they withdrew. We had each kept our secret, evidently, for none of those close to us in that building suspected that there had been a fatal division.

“I seem to be in disgrace,” I said, my forefinger delicately caressing the buzzer which I had built into the arm of my chair so that I might summon aid in the event that a visitor proved to be either a bore or a maniac, two types curiously drawn to enterprises such as ours.

“I wouldn’t say that.” Paul sat in a chair close to my own; I recall thinking, a little madly, that elephants are supposed to be at their most dangerous when they are quite still. Paul was noticeably controlled. Usually he managed to cross the room at least once for every full sentence; now he sat looking at me, his face without expression.

“I’ve seen no one since our dinner except Clarissa,” I explained; then I added, earnestly: “I wonder where she plans to go. She didn’t....”

“You’ve almost wrecked everything,” he said, his voice tight, unfamiliar in its tension.

“I didn’t want to,” I said, inaccurately. I was at the moment more terrified than I’d ever been, either before or since. I could get no real grip on him: the surface he presented me was as formidable, as granitic as a prison wall.

“Who told you? Iris? Cave? or were you spying?” Each question was fired at me like a bullet.

“Spying on whom?”

“On me, damn you!” Then it broke. The taut line of control which had held in check his anger and his fear broke all at once and the torrent flowed, reckless and overpowering: “You meddling idiot! You spied on me; you found out; you thought you’d be able to stall things by springing it like that. Well, you failed.” I recall thinking, quite calmly, how much I preferred his face in the congested ugliness of rage to its ordinary banality of expression. I was relieved, too, by the storm. I could handle him when he was out of control. I considered my counteroffensive while he shouted at me, accused me of hostility to him, of deviationism from Cavesword and of numerous other crimes. He stopped, finally, for lack of breath.

“I gather,” I said, my voice shaking a little from excitement, “that at some point recently you decided that Cave should apply Cavesword to himself and die, providing us with a splendid example, an undying (I mean no pun) symbol.”

“You know you found out and decided to get in on the act, to force my hand. Now he’ll never do it.”

That was it then. I was relieved to be no longer in the dark. “Cave has refused to kill himself?”

“You bet your sweet life he has.” Paul was beginning to recover his usual poise. “Your little scene gave him the excuse he needed: 'Gene’s right.’” Paul imitated Cave’s voice with startling accuracy and malice. “'Gene’s right. I never did mean for everybody to kill themselves off ... where’d the world be if _that_ happened? Just a few people. That’s all.’ And he’s damned if he’s going to be one of them. 'Hate to set that sort of example.’”

“Well, you’ll have to try something else then.”

“Why did you do it?” Paul’s voice became petulant. “Did Iris put you up to it?”

“Nobody put me up to it.”

“You mean to sit there and try to make me believe that it just occurred to you, like that, to suggest Cave would have to kill himself if he encouraged suicide?”

“I mean that it occurred to me exactly like that.” I looked at Paul with vivid loathing. “Can’t you understand even the obvious relationship between cause and effect? With this plan of Stokharin’s you’ll make it impossible for Cave _not_ to commit suicide and, when he does, you will have an international death cult which I shall do my best to combat.”

Paul’s hands began nervously to play with his tie, his lapels: I wondered if he’d come armed. I placed my finger lightly upon the buzzer. Implacably, we faced one another.

“You are not truly Cavesword” was all that he said.

“We won’t argue about that. I’m merely explaining to you why I said what I did and why I intend to keep Cave alive as long as possible. Alive and hostile to you, to your peculiar interpretation of his word.”

Paul looked suddenly disconsolate. “I’ve done what I thought best. I feel Cave should show us all the way. I feel it’s both logical and necessary to the Establishment that he give back his life publicly.”

“But he doesn’t want to.”

“That is the part I can’t understand. Cavesword is that death is not to be feared but embraced yet he, the man who has really changed the world, refuses to die.”

“Perhaps he feels he has more work to do. More places to see. Perhaps, Paul, he doesn’t trust you ... doesn’t want to leave you in control of the Establishment.”

“I’m willing to get out if that’s all that’s stopping him.” But the insincerity of this protestation was too apparent for either of us to contemplate for long.

“I don’t care what his motives are. I don’t care if he himself is terrified of dying (and I have a hunch that that is the real reason for his hesitancy) but I _do_ know that I don’t want him dead by his own hand.”

“You’re quite sure of that?”

“Absolutely sure. I’m a director of the Establishment and don’t forget it, Paul: it’s Iris, Cave and I against you and Stokharin. You may control the organization but we have Cave himself.” I gathered courage in my desperation. I purposely sounded as though I were in warm concert with the others.

“I realize all that.” Paul was suddenly meek, conciliatory, sublimely treacherous. “But you must allow me as much sincerity as you withhold for yourself. I want to do what’s best. I think he should die and I’ve done everything to persuade him. He was near agreement when you upset everything.”

“For which I’m happy ... though it was something of an accident. Are you sure that it is only for the sake of Cavesword you want him dead?”

“What other possible reason?” He looked at me indignantly. I could not be sure whether he was telling the truth or not. I doubted it.

“Many other reasons. For one thing you would be his heir, in complete control of the Establishment; and that of course is something worth inheriting.”

Paul shrugged convincingly. “I’m as much in charge now as I would be with him dead,” he said with a certain truth. “I’m interested in Cavesword, not in Cave. If his death enhances and establishes the Word more securely then I must do all I can to convince him to take that course.”

“There is another way,” I said, smiling at the pleasant thought.

“Another way?”

“To convince us of your dedication and sincerity to Cavesword.”

“What’s that?”

“You kill _yourself_, Paul.”

There was a long silence. I pressed the buzzer and my secretary came in. Without a word, Paul left.

Immediately afterwards, I took the private elevator to Cave’s penthouse. Two guards stopped me while I was announced by a third. After a short delay, I was admitted to Cave’s study, but not to Cave; instead, Iris received me.

“I know what’s happening,” I said. “Where is he?”

“Obviously you do.” Her voice was cold. She did not ask me to sit down. Awkwardly, I faced her at the room’s center.

“We must stop him.”

“John? Stop him from what?”

“Doing what Paul wants him to do.”

“And what you want as well.”

“You’re mistaken. I thought I made myself clear the other night. But though my timing was apparently bad, under _no_ circumstances do I want him to die.”

“You made your speech to force him.”

“And Paul thinks I made it to stop him.” I couldn’t help smiling. “I am, it seems, everyone’s enemy.”

“Paul has told me everything. How you and he and Stokharin all decided, without consulting us, that John should die.”

I was astonished at Paul’s boldness. Could he really be moving so swiftly? How else explain such a prodigious lie? I told her quickly, urgently what I felt, what I had said to Paul and he to me. She heard me to the end without expressing either belief or disbelief. When I’d finished she turned away from me and went to the window where, through yellow glass, the city rose upon the band of horizon.

“It’s too late,” she said, evenly. “I hadn’t expected this. Perhaps you’re telling me the truth ... if you are, you’ve made a terrible mistake.” She turned about suddenly, with a precision which was almost military. “He’s going to do it.”

The awful words fell like a weight upon a scale. I felt blindly for a chair and sat down, all strength gone. “Stop him,” I said, all that I could say. “Stop him.”

“It’s too late for that.” She took pity on me. “I think you’re telling me the truth. Gene.” She came over to where I was sitting and looked down at me gently. “I’m sorry I accused you. I should have realized Paul was lying.”

“_You_ can stop him.”

“I can’t. I’ve tried but I can’t.” Her control was extraordinary. I did not then guess the reason for her calm, her strength.

“Then I must try.” I stood up. She backed away at the expression on my face.

“You can’t do anything. He won’t see you. He won’t see anyone but me.”

“I thought he told Paul he agreed with me, that he didn’t want to ... to countenance all this, that he....”

“At first he took your side, if it is really what you yourself feel: then he thought about it and ... this morning he decided to go ahead with Paul’s plan.”

I was confused. “Does Paul know?”

Iris smiled wanly. “John is reserving for himself the pleasure of doing what he must do without Paul’s assistance.”

“Or knowledge?”

Iris shrugged. “Paul will find out about it this evening, I suppose. There will be an announcement. John’s secretary is getting it ready now ... one for the public and another for the Establishment.”

“When will it happen?”

“Tomorrow. I go with him, Gene.”

“You? You’re not going to die too?”

“I don’t see that it makes much difference what I do when John dies.”

“You can’t leave us now. You can’t leave Paul in charge of everything. He’s a dangerous man. Why, if....”

“You’ll be able to handle him.” It was perfectly apparent to me that she was no longer interested in me or in the others; not even in the fate of the work we had begun.

“It’s finished, if you go too,” I said bleakly. “Together we could control Paul; alone, I’d not last ten days. Iris, let me talk to him.”

“I can’t. I won’t.”

I contemplated pushing by her and searching the penthouse but there were guards everywhere and I had no wish to be shot myself on such an errand.

She guessed my thought and said, quickly “There’s no possible way for you or anyone to get through to him. Sometime tonight or tomorrow he will leave and that’s the end.”

“He won’t do it here?” This surprised me.

She shook her head. “He wants to go off alone, away from everyone. I’m to be with him until the end; then I’ll send the body back here for burial ... but he’ll leave full instructions.”

“You mean I’m never to see either of you again? Just like that, you both go?”

“Just like this.” For the first time she displayed some warmth. “I’ve cared for you, Gene,” she said gently. “I even think that of us all you were the one most nearly right in your approach to John. I think you understood him better than he did himself. Try to hold on after we go. Try to keep it away from Paul.”

“As if I could!” I turned from her bitterly, filled with unexpected grief: I did not want to lose her presence even though I had lost her or, rather, never possessed more of her than that one bright instant years before on the California coast when we had both realized with the unexpected clarity of the lovers we were not that our lives had come to the same point at the same moment and the knowledge of this confluence was the one splendor I had known, the single hope, the unique passion of my life.

“Don’t miss me, Gene. I couldn’t bear that.” She put her hand on my arm. I walked away, not able to bear her touch. Then they came.

Paul and Stokharin were in the study. Iris gasped and stepped back when she saw them. I spun about just as Paul shouted: “It won’t work, Iris! Give it up.”

“Get out of here, Paul.” Her voice was strong. “You have no right here.”

“I have as much right as you. Now tell me whose idea was it? yours? or was it John’s? or Gene’s? since he seems to enjoy playing both sides.”

“Get out. All of you.” She moved to the old-fashioned bell cord which hung beside Cave’s massive desk.

“Don’t bother,” said Paul. “No one will come.”

Iris, her eyes wide now with fear, tugged the cord twice: the second time it broke off in her hand. There was no response.

Paul looked grim. “I’m sorry to have to do it this way but you’ve left me no choice. You can’t leave, either of you.”

“You read....”

“I saw the release. It won’t work.”

“Why not? It’s what you’ve wanted all along. Everything will be yours. There’ll be nobody to stop you. John will be dead and I’ll be gone for good. You’ll never see me again ... why must you interfere?” She spoke quickly, plausibly but the false proportion was evident now, even to me: the plan was tumbling down at Paul’s assault.

“Iris, I’m not a complete fool. I know perfectly well that Cave has no intention of killing himself and that....”

“Why do you think I’m going with him? to send you the body back for the ceremony which you’ll perform right here, publicly....”

“Iris.” He looked at her for a long moment. Then: “If you two leave as planned tonight (I’ve canceled the helicopter by the way) there will be no body, no embalming, no ceremony, no point ... only a mystery which might very well undo all our work. I can’t allow that. Cave must die here, before morning. We might have put it off but your announcement has already leaked out. There’ll be a million people out there in the street tomorrow. We’ll have to show them Cave’s body.”

Iris swayed; I moved quickly to her side and held her arm. “It’s three to two, Paul,” I said. “I assume we’re still directors. Three of us have agreed that Cave and Iris leave. That’s final.” But my bluff was humiliatingly weak; it was ignored.

“The penthouse,” said Paul softly, “is empty ... just the five of us here. The Doctor and I are armed. Take us in to him.”

“No.” Iris moved instinctively, fatally, to the door which led to Cave, as if to guard it with her body.

There was a brief scuffle which ended with Iris and myself, considerably disheveled, facing two guns. With an apology, Stokharin pushed us through the door.

In a small sunroom we found Cave sitting before a television screen, watching the installation of a new Resident in Boston. He looked up with surprise at our entrance. “I thought I said....” he began but Iris interrupted him.

“They want to kill you, John.”

He got to his feet quickly, his face pale and his eyes glaring. Even Paul was shaken by that glance. “You read my last statement?” Cave spoke sharply, without apparent fear.

“That’s why we’ve come,” said Paul; he and Stokharin moved, as though by previous accord, to opposite ends of the little room, leaving the three of us together, vulnerable at its center. “You must do it here.” Paul signaled Stokharin who, after some fumbling, produced a small metal box which he tossed to Cave.

“Some of the new pills,” he said nervously. “Very nice. We use peppermint in the outer layer and....”

“Take it, John.”

“I’ll get some water,” said Stokharin; but Paul waved to him to keep his place.

Cave smiled whitely. “I will not take it. Now both of you get out of here before I call the guards.”

“No more guards,” said Paul. “We’ve seen to that. Now, please, don’t make it any more difficult than it is. Take the pill.”

“If you read my statement you know that....”

“You intend to take a pleasant trip around the world incognito with Iris. Yes, I know. As your friend, I wish you could do it. But, for one thing, sooner or later you’d be recognized and, for another, we must have proof ... we must have a body.”

“Iris will bring the body back,” said Cave. He was still quite calm. “I choose to do it this way and there’s nothing more to be said. You’ll have the Establishment all to yourself and I will be a most satisfactory figure upon which to build a world religion.” It was the only time in my experience with Cave that I ever heard him strike the ironic note.

“Leave us alone, Paul. You have what you want. Now let us go.” Iris begged but Paul had no eyes for anyone but Cave.

“Take it, John,” he repeated softly. “Take Cavesway.”

“Not for you.” Cave hurled the metal box at Paul’s head and Stokharin fired. There was one almost bland moment when we all stood, politely, in a circle and watched Cave, a look of wonder on his face, touch his shoulder where the blood had begun to flow through a hole in the jacket.

Then Iris turned fiercely on Paul, knocking him off balance, while Cave ran to the door. Stokharin, his hand shaking and his face silver with fear, fired three times, each time hitting Cave who quivered but did not fall; instead, he got through the door and into the study. As Stokharin hurried after him, I threw myself upon him, expecting death at any moment; but it did not come for Stokharin had collapsed. He dropped his gun and hid his face in his hands, rocking back and forth on the floor, sobbing. Paul, free of Iris’s fierce grip, got to Cave before I did. By then it was finished.

Cave lay in the corridor only a few feet from the elevator. He’d fallen on his face and lay now in his own blood, his hands working at the floor as though trying to dig himself a grave in the hard stone. I turned him on his back and he opened his eyes. “Iris?” he asked. His voice was ordinary though his breathing was harsh, uneven.

“Here I am.” She knelt down beside him, ignoring Paul who stood looking down at them, his pistol held at an absurd angle in his inexperienced hand.

Cave whispered something to Iris; then a flow of blood, like the full moon’s tide, poured from his mouth and he was dead.

“Cavesway,” said Paul at last when the silence had been used up: the phrase he had prepared for this moment, inadequate to the reality at our feet.

“_Your_ way,” said Iris as she got to her feet. She looked at Paul calmly, as though they’d met only at that moment. “_Your_ way,” she repeated.

In the other room Stokharin moaned.

TEN

1

Now the work was complete. Cavesword and Cavesway formed a perfect design and all the rest would greatly follow ... or so Paul assumed. I believe if I had been he I should have killed both Iris and myself the same day, removing at one stroke witnesses and opposition. But he did not have the courage and, too, I think he underestimated us, to his own future sorrow.

Iris and I were left alone in the penthouse. Paul, after shaking Stokharin into a semblance of calm, bundled Cave’s body into a blanket and then, with the doctor’s help, put it upon the private elevator.

The next twenty-four hours were a grim carnival. The body of Cave, beautifully arranged and painted, lay in the central auditorium of the center as thousands filed by to see him. Paul’s speech over the corpse was telecast around the world.

Iris and I kept to our separate rooms, both by choice and from necessity since gentle guards stood before our doors and refused, apologetically, to let us out.

I watched the services over television while my chief editors visited me one by one unaware of what had happened, ignoring the presence of the guards. It was assumed that I was too shocked by grief to go to the office. Needless to say, I did not mention to any of them what had happened. At first I had thought it best to expose Paul as a murderer and a fraud but, on second thought (the second thought which followed all too swiftly upon the first, as Paul had no doubt assumed it would), I did not want to risk the ruin of our work. Instead, I decided to wait, to study Paul’s destruction, an event which I had grimly vowed would take place as soon as possible. He could not now get rid of either Iris or me in the near future and all we needed, I was sure, was but a week or two. I was convinced of this though I had no specific plan. Iris had more influence, more prestige in the Establishment than Paul, and I figured, correctly as later events corroborated, that Cave’s death would enhance her position. As for myself, I was not without influence.

I kept my lines of communication clear the next few days during what was, virtually, a house-arrest. The editors came to me regularly and I continued to compose editorials. The explanation for my confinement to my room was, according to a bulletin signed by Stokharin, a mild heart condition. Everyone was most kind. I was amused when I first heard of the diagnosis: one of Stokharin’s pellets in my food and death would be ascribed to coronary occlusion, the result of the strain attendant upon Cave’s death. I had less time than I thought. I made plans.

Paul’s funeral oration was competent though less than inspiring. The Chief Resident of Dallas, one of the great new figures of the Establishment, made an even finer speech over the corpse. I listened attentively, judging from what was said and what was not said the wind’s direction: it was quite obvious that Cavesway was to be the heart of the doctrine. Death was to be embraced with passion; life was the criminal; death the better reality; consciousness was an evil which, in death’s oblivion, met its true fate ... man’s one perfect virtuous act was the sacrifice of his own consciousness to the pure nothing from which, by grim accident, it had come, a malignancy in creation. The Chief Resident of Dallas was most eloquent, and chilling.

Even sequestered in my room, I caught some of the excitement which circled the globe like a lightning storm. Thirty-five hundred suicides were reported within forty-eight hours of Cave’s death. The statisticians lost count of the number of people who fought to get inside the building to see Cave in death. From my window, however, I could see that Park Avenue had been roped off for a dozen blocks. People, like ants, swarmed toward the gates of the tower.

I sent messages to Iris but received none, nor, for that matter, did I have any assurance that she had got mine. Paul’s adventures I followed on television and from the reports of my editors who visited me regularly, despite Stokharin’s orders.

On the third day, I was allowed to go to my office: Paul having decided that it would be thought odd if I were to die so soon after Cave and, too, he was no doubt relieved to discover that I had not revealed to my friends what actually had happened. Having established the fact of my weak heart, my death could be engineered most plausibly at any time.

I did not see him face to face until the fourth day, when John Cave’s ashes were to be distributed over the United States. Stokharin, Paul and I sat in the back seat of a limousine at the head of a motorcade which, beginning at the tower, terminated at the airport where the jet-plane which would sprinkle the ashes over New York, Seattle, Chicago and Los Angeles was waiting, along with a vast crowd and the President of the United States, an official Christian but known to incline, as Presidents do, toward the majority.... Cavites were the majority and had been for almost two years.

I was startled to find Paul and Stokharin in the same automobile. It had been my understanding that we were to travel separately in the motorcade. They were most cordial.

“Sorry to hear you’ve been sick, Gene,” Paul grinned ingenuously. “⁗Mustn’t strain the old ticker.”

“I’m sure the good doctor will be able to cure me,” I said cheerfully.

They both laughed loudly; then the car pulled away from the tower and drove down Park Avenue at the head of a long procession. Crowds lined the street as we drove slowly by. They were curiously still, as though they hardly knew how to react: this was a funeral yet Cavesway was glorious. Some cheered; most simply stared and pointed at our car, recognizing Paul. I suddenly realized why they were so interested in this particular car: on the floor, at Paul’s feet, was what looked like a large flower pot covered with gold foil.

“Are those the ashes?”

Paul nodded. “Did an extra quick job, too, I’m glad to say. We didn’t want any slip up.”

“Where’s Iris?”

“I was going to ask _you_ that.” Paul looked at me sharply. “She disappeared yesterday and it’s very embarrassing for all of us, very inconsiderate too: she knew I especially wanted her at the ceremony. She knows that everyone will expect to see her.”

“I think she took the idea of Cavesway most illogically,” said Stokharin, his usual sang-froid had returned, his breakdown forgotten. “She should be grateful to us for making all this possible, despite Cave’s weakness.”

I ignored Stokharin. I looked at Paul who was beaming at the crowd, acknowledging their waves with nods of his head. “What will you do now?”

“You heard the ceremony?”

“Yes.”

“Well, just that. Cavesway has become universal. Even the economists in Washington have privately thanked us for what we’re doing to reduce the population. There’s a theory that by numerous voluntary deaths wars might decrease since ... or so the proposition goes ... they are nature’s way of checking population.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” I assumed a troubled expression as I made the first move of my counteroffensive.

Paul looked away from the crowd to regard me briefly, shrewdly. “You don’t think I trust you, do you?”

I shrugged, “Why not? I can’t change Cavesway now.”

Paul grunted. I could see that he did not believe this spurious _volte-face_; nevertheless, an end to my active opposition would force him to revise his plans; this would, I hoped, give me the time I needed. I pressed on: “I think we can compromise. Short of rigging my death which would cause suspicion, you must continue to put up with me for a while. You’ve nothing to fear from me since you control the Establishment and since the one weapon I have against you I will not use.”

“You mean....”

“My having witnessed the murder of Cave. If I had wanted to I could have revealed this before the cremation. An autopsy would certainly have ruined everything for you.”

“Why didn’t you?” I could see that Paul was genuinely interested in my motives.

“Because it would have meant the end of the work. I saw no reason to avenge Cave at such a cost: you must remember he was not a god to me, any more than you are.”

This twist of a blunt knife had the calculated effect: “What a cold devil you are!” said Paul, almost admiringly. “I wish I could believe you.”

“There’s no reason not to. I was opposed to the principle of suicide. It is now firmly established. We must go on from there.”

“Then tell me where Iris is.”

“I haven’t any idea. As you know, I’ve been trying to get in touch with her for days; your people intercepted everything. How _did_ she manage to get away?”

“One of the guards let her out. I thought he was one of our boys but it seems she worked on him and he left with her. I’ve alerted all the Centers; so far no one’s seen her.”

Just before Grand Central Station, the crowd began to roar with excitement and Paul held up the jar of ashes which glittered in his hands; the crowd went wild and tried to break through the police lines. The cortege drove a bit faster and Paul set the ashes down; he looked triumphant but tired, as though he’d not slept in a month: one eyelid, I saw, was twitching with fatigue.

“When are we to have a directors’ meeting?” I asked as we crossed the bridge which spanned the Hudson. “We’re still legally a company. We must elect a new board chairman.”

“As soon as we find Iris,” said Paul. “I think we should all be there, don’t you? Two to two.”

“Perhaps three to one on the main things,” I said, allowing this to penetrate, aware that his quick mind would study all the possibilities and arrive at a position so subtle and unexpected as to be of use to me if I, in turn, were quick enough to seize my opportunity.

At the airport, a detachment of airborne troops were drawn up before a festooned reviewing stand. Near by the Marine Band played incongruous marches while in the center of the stand, surrounded by cameras and dignitaries, stood the smiling President of the United States.

2

The next day while I was examining the various accounts of the last ceremony, the chief editor came into my office, his face blazing with excitement: “Iris Mortimer!” was all he could say.

“Iris? Where?”

“Dallas.” He exploded the name in exhalation; then he told me: word had come from our office there that Iris had, a few hours before, denounced Paul for having ignored Cave’s last wishes to be embalmed and that, as a result of this and other infidelities to Cavesword, she, as ranking director and with the full concurrence of the Chief Resident of Dallas, was calling a Council of Residents to be held the following week at Dallas to determine the future course of the Establishment.

I almost laughed aloud with pleasure. I had not believed she would show such vigor and daring. I had feared that she might choose to vanish into obscurity, her life ended with Cave ... even at my most optimistic, I had not dreamed she would act with such realism, exploiting a rivalry between Paul and the Chief Resident of Dallas, the premier member of the Council of Residents, a group that, until now, had existed for purely ceremonial reasons, exerting no influence upon the administration of the Establishment which, while Cave lived, was by Paul directed. Now with one stroke Iris had undermined Paul by going directly to the Establishment.

I moved swiftly. The _Journal_ was at that moment going to press. I scribbled a brief announcement of the coming Council of Residents, naming Iris as Cave’s spiritual heir and custodian of the Establishment. By telephone, I ordered a box to be cut out of the first page. I had not acted a moment too soon for a few minutes after my telephone call to the compositor, Paul came to my office, furious. He slammed the door behind him. We were alone for the first time in weeks.

“You knew this was going to happen.”

“I wish I had.”

He paced the floor quickly, eyes shining. “I’ve sent out an order countermanding Iris. I’ve also removed the Resident at Dallas. I’m still in charge of the Establishment. I control the funds and I’ve told every damned Resident in this country that if he goes to Dallas I’ll cut off his Center without a penny.”

“It won’t work.” I smiled amiably at Paul. “Your only hold over the Establishment is legal. You are the vice president of the corporation and now, at least for the interim, you’re in charge. Fine. But since you’ve become so devoted to the letter of the law you can’t act without consulting your directors and two of them will be in Dallas, reorganizing.”

He cursed me for some minutes: then abruptly he stopped. “You won’t go to Dallas. You’re going to be here for the directors’ meeting which cuts off every Resident who attends that circus without a penny. We own the damned Centers; we can appoint whom we like. You’re going to help ratify my new appointments.”

I pressed the buzzer in my chair: a secretary came in. I told her to get me a reservation on the next plane to Dallas; then, before she had closed the door behind her, I was halfway through it. I turned to look back at Paul who stood now quite alone in the office. “You had better come too,” I said. “It’s all over.”

3

The new Establishment was many months in the making. The Council of seven hundred Residents from all parts of the world sat in general session once a week and in various committees the rest of the time. Iris was everywhere at once, advising, encouraging, proposing. We had adjoining suites in the huge white marble Center which had now become (and was to remain) the capitol of the Cavite Establishment.

The Residents were an extraordinary crew, ranging from zealous maniacs to urbane, thoughtful men. None had been in the least disturbed by Paul’s threats and with Iris and myself as chief stockholders (Clarissa had turned her voting shares over to Iris, I discovered), we dissolved the old company and a new organization was fashioned, one governed by the Council of Residents who, in turn, chose an heir to Cave and an administrative assistant to direct the affairs of the Establishment. Iris was unanimously appointed Guardian of Cavesword while the Chief Resident of Dallas undertook Paul’s old administrative duties. From a constitutional point of view the Council was in perfect agreement, accepting Iris’s guidance without demur.

I, myself, was something of a hero for having committed the _Journal_ at a crucial moment to the Dallas synod. I was made an honorary Resident (Dubuque, Iowa, was given me as a titular Center) and appointed to the Executive Committee which was composed of Iris, Dallas, two elected Residents and myself.

We worked harmoniously for some weeks. Each day we would issue bulletins to the news-services which had congregated in the city, reporting our progress zealously, devotedly.