Free EMPIRE by Clifford D. Simak Page B

“So that’s the setup,” he said.
    Across the desk Spencer Chambers studied the man. Stutsman was like a wolf, lean and cruel and vicious. He even looked like a wolf, with his long, thin face, his small, beady eyes, the thin, bloodless lips. But he was the kind of man who didn’t always wait for instructions, but went ahead and used his own judgment. And in a ruthless sort of way, his judgment was always right.
    “Only as a last resort,” cautioned Chambers, “do I want you to use the extreme measures you are so fond of using. If they should prove necessary, we can always use them. But not yet. I want to settle this thing in the quietest way possible. Page and Manning are two men who can’t simply disappear. There’d be a hunt, an investigation, an ugly situation.”
    “I understand,” agreed Stutsman. “If something should happen to their notes, if somebody could find them. Perhaps you. If you found them on your desk one morning.”
    The two men measured one another with their eyes, more like enemies than men working for the same ends.
    “Not my desk,” snapped Chambers, “Craven’s. So that Craven could discover this new energy. Whatever Craven discovers belongs to Interplanetary.”
    Chambers rose from his chair and walked to the window, looked out. After a moment’s time, he turned and walked back again, sat down in his chair. Leaning back, he matched his fingertips, his teeth flashing in a grin under his mustache.
    “I don’t know anything about what’s going on,” he said. “I don’t even know someone has discovered material energy. That’s up to Craven. He has to find it. Both you and Craven work alone. I know nothing about either of you.”
    Stutsman’s jaw closed like a steel trap. “I’ve always worked alone.”
    “By the way,” said Chambers, the edge suddenly off his voice, “how are things going in the Jovian confederacy? I trust you left everything in good shape.”
    “As good as could be expected,” Stutsman replied. “The people are still uneasy, half angry. They still remember Mallory.”
    “But Mallory,” objected Chambers, “is on a prison ship. In near Mercury now, I believe.”
    Stutsman shook his head. “They still remember him. We’ll have trouble out there one of these days.”
    “I would hate to have that happen,” remarked Chambers softly. “I would regret it very much. I sent you out there to see that nothing happened.”
    “The trouble out there won’t be a flash to this thing you were telling me about,” snapped Stutsman.
    “I’m leaving that in your hands, too,” Chambers told him. “I know you can take care of it.”
    Stutsman rose. “I can take care of it.”
    “I’m sure you can,” Chambers said.
    He remained standing after Stutsman left, looking at the door through which the man had gone. Maybe it had been a mistake to call Stutsman in from Callisto. Maybe it was a mistake to use Stutsman at all. He didn’t like a lot of things the man did . . . or the way he did them. Brutal things.
    * * * *
    Slowly Chambers sat down again and his face grew hard.
    He had built an empire of many worlds. That couldn’t be done with gentle methods and no sure goal. Fighting every inch from planet to planet, he had used power to gain power. And now that empire was threatened by two men who had found a greater power. That threat had to be smashed! It would be smashed!
    Chambers leaned forward and pressed a buzzer.
    “Yes, Mr. Chambers?” said a voice in the communicator.
    “Send Dr. Craven in,” commanded Chambers.
    Craven came in, slouchily, his hair standing on end, his eyes peering through the thick-lensed glasses.
    “You sent for me,” he growled, taking a chair.
    “Yes, I did,” said Chambers. “Have a drink?”
    “No. And no smoke either.”
    Chambers took a long cigar from the box on his desk, clipped off the end and rolled it in his mouth.
    “I’m a busy man,” Craven reminded him.
    Puckering lines of amusement wrinkled Chambers’ eyes