Conquest Of The Planet Of The Apes (6 page)

Caesar was not the bold, defiant animal of an hour ago. The prospect of being abandoned in the tunnel filled him with fright.

Armando pressed his arm. “One more thing to remember, should you go to the harbor. Apes imported from overseas arrive naked. You’ll have to get rid of those clothes.”

“But I don’t want to hide and cower like—”

“Caesar, we
must
have an alternate plan! If I don’t succeed in convincing the authorities quickly, the only true sanctuary for you is among your own kind.”

Caesar knew further protest was useless. Certainly the circus owner would know what the urgencies of the situation required. So the ape simply nodded in forlorn agreement.

Armando forced a smile, patted Caesar’s shoulder. “I am only preparing you for an outside chance. I fully expect to talk my way free in thirty minutes. Wait here and I’ll see you soon.”

He turned and walked sluggishly back along the tunnel. Caesar watched the man’s figure dwindle, passing in and out of the soft pools of fight, growing smaller until it disappeared altogether. The harbor horn sounded mournfully.

“An hour—two at most—that’s really a very short time,” Caesar said to himself. Yet huddled against the bare concrete wall, he was unable to avoid one chilling realization. For the first time in his entire existence, he was utterly alone. He kept staring after Armando with huge, rounded eyes, as if just wishing would bring his only friend back.

Jason Breck stood on the terrace of his operations suite and studied the high rises of his city, brilliantly illuminated shafts piercing the night sky. It
was
his city. He took pride in the fact that he could claim that at age thirty-three.

The goal had not been won without immense effort, long hours, and some bureaucratic in-fighting he preferred not to remember—along with its victims. But he’d made it. Now he could stand at the rail gazing at the orderly rows of buildings—Breck delighted in order, neat arrangements, all loose ends tied—and take pleasure from the view. Perfect. Except for one problem waiting to be solved immediately, just inside, in his personal office. Perfect—Except for the dark stain in view on the pavement many stories below. There, earlier today, a gorilla had gone berserk.

Jason Breck refused to glance down at that stain again. With the delicate man-simian balance he was responsible for maintaining in the city, he would brook no slovenly discharge of housekeeping—or order-keeping—duties. Signs of such duties undone enraged him.

The stain, and the problem waiting in the office, erased much of his customary easygoing charm. He wanted to be neither charming nor agreeable tonight. Things were getting ever so slightly out of hand. He hadn’t slept well in recent weeks because of it.

To bring the waiting problem to a quicker solution, he had decided to stroll out on the terrace for a few minutes. His politician’s mind told him that a slight delay might actually speed matters along—by increasing the strain on the suspect.

Judging that the proper amount of time had now passed, Breck turned around. He saw that he was right, but no smile showed on his tanned face.

Inside the rolled-back doors, the flashily dressed suspect shifted in the chair on the other side of Breck’s priceless, genuine walnut desk. Three small lamps in the large office created vast islands of shadow—an intimidating effect. Near one of these lamps, Breck’s aide, MacDonald, hunched forward on the edge of a lounge, awaiting the next move. Opposite stood two other men.

Kolp was heavyset, bespectacled; Hoskyns, lean, wiry. Both held posts in the top echelon of the State Security Agency. Like MacDonald, both watched Breck on the terrace for a cue.

Walking with relaxed strides—another studied effect—Breck re-entered the office. He sat down opposite the suspect, folded his hands on the gleaming walnut desk top.

“Señor Armando,” he said. “I’m afraid I am still not satisfied with your explanation. Why did you say ‘human?’ It’s a decidedly odd term for another human to use.” Breck pinned the suspect with an emotionless stare. “Don’t you agree?”

The city governor could smell the circus owner’s sweat. It was most unpleasant. He concealed his distaste, and the nagging concern that underlay all his tension tonight, and continued to fix Armando with an authoritative stare.

Armando sputtered a few incoherent syllables—good sign—strategy working—before making sense: “Mr. Governor, I did not say ‘human’.”

“But Señor, a score of witnesses—”

“I don’t care; they are wrong. I said ‘inhuman!’ I said, ‘You lousy inhuman bastards.’ And by the Blessed Saint Francis who loved all animals, I meant it!”

For a moment Armando’s dark Latin eyes showed defiance. Breck was sure it wouldn’t last. It didn’t. Armando’s tone suddenly became conciliatory. “Sir, as I have told you several times, I came to you voluntarily. To explain that the animal has run away before. To clear up the misunderstanding. And to beg your permission to be allowed to search for my star performer again, unmolested. Would I have come here trying to deceive you? You, with the authority to command an entire city of police investigators?”

Armando indicated the silent Kolp and Hoskyns. But Breck noted the tremor in the gesture. Armando went on. “I could not hope to do such a thing, Mr. Governor! I am a plain, uneducated man. I run a circus, I—”

“We know you run a circus,” Kolp interrupted, lamplight flashing on his spectacles. He sounded irritated. Hoskyns added immediately: “We did some checking. We know that you’ve run the circus since twenty years ago—”

“The very year,” said Breck, “when the two talking apes arrived on Earth. And produced a baby whose survival could have threatened the future of the human race. You remember, don’t you?”

“Naturally, of course,” Armando nodded. “But—”

“Governor Breck.”

The governor swiveled in his silent, perfectly sprung chair. “What is it, Mr. MacDonald?”

“I don’t see where this line of questioning is leading us. It’s my understanding that the baby was shot dead along with his parents.”

“Or so the authorities believed,” Breck replied, annoyed with his aide for a moment. “However, there was some confusion about the shooting, and, since the incident down below involving this man and his animal, I’ve been wondering whether it was the right baby.”

Through narrowed eyes, Breck watched for a reaction on Armando’s face. He saw only bewilderment.

Taking off his spectacles and polishing them, Kolp began to hammer a little harder. “There’s plenty of room for suspicion. The apes could have switched their baby for one stolen from the zoo—”

“Or one from a circus,” Hoskyns said, with sharp meaning. Breck admired the way Kolp and Hoskyns worked. As a team, they were relentless. They never lost.

Abruptly, Armando began to laugh. Kolp scowled, jammed his spectacles back in place. Hoskyns licked his lips and started to say something. Breck raised one perfectly manicured hand to allow Armando to hold the floor a moment. He got the desired effect. Armando’s laugh weakened to a nervous chuckle. Then it stopped altogether. He sounded extremely defensive when he said, “Mr. Governor—you can’t be serious!”

“Oh, yes.” Breck unfolded his lean frame from the chair, walked around the desk and leaned over the circus owner. “We have here a recording of the report of the Presidential Security Commission, established twenty years ago to deal with the fate of the talking apes. They realized that Cornelius and Zira had, somehow, come out of the future, and that their descendants had subjugated the human race and all but destroyed Earth. They knew Zira to be pregnant, and recommended abortion and sterilization. We know that these procedures were not carried out because the apes escaped, were tracked down, and shot. But—what if the offspring of Cornelius and Zira somehow survived? Wouldn’t that be a matter for grave concern? Wouldn’t that be, in fact, a circumstance laden with unprecedented danger for this society?” He stormed forward, towering over Armando. “So let’s not have any more laughter, Señor! Let’s have your answer!”

Breck had to give the old man credit. He didn’t break under the sudden, deliberate pressure. If Armando were indeed lying—and all at once Breck had doubts—then some exceedingly strong motivation lent him unexpected strength.

Armando was smart enough not to incur further anger. He didn’t laugh. But his simple gesture was enough to express his continuing incredulity.

“I don’t see any way that what you suspect could have happened, sir. Every zoo in the state of California, public or private, was searched by state security officers. And every circus—including my own.”

Kolp jabbed his spectacles higher onto the bridge of his nose, then tugged a paper from Hoskyns’s file. “According to the case records, the police found a baby chimpanzee at your circus.”

Armando displayed a little more confidence—even pride.

“Indeed they did. The only chimpanzee ever to be born in a circus—and legally certified to have been born a month before the talking apes arrived on Earth! Doesn’t your file contain that documentation too, sir?” Despite his mild tone, the question was a challenge.

“Of course it does,” Hoskyns retorted. “But there are forgery experts available, mister. There’s not a document in the world that can’t be falsified with enough time and cash.”

Kolp gestured the remark aside. “All right, let’s stick to the issue.” He confronted Armando, scowling down at him. “Where’s the ape now?”

Armando shrugged in a helpless way. “I told you—I wish I knew. I’m worried about his safety. After hunting for him for awhile, I decided perhaps I’d better check with the authorities. I don’t want my star performer hurt or shot by accident. I heard loudspeaker announcements in the plazas. That’s why I plead with you to let me continue the search—while you revoke any orders you may have issued for his apprehension.”

The sound of Breck’s hand smacking the desk was as loud as a pistol shot. “I’ll decide what orders are revoked, and when.”

Armando blinked, bobbing his head. “Yes, sir. Of course. I’m sorry.” Defenses cracking again, Breck thought. Good. Armando added, “It’s just that my worry over the animal is all consuming, Mr. Governor.”

“I have matters of considerably greater scope to worry about, Señor. I don’t believe you yet understand the seriousness of the problem. Your circus travels mainly out in the provinces, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you are probably unaware of the rising tide of disobedience—of downright defiance—among the servant apes. It’s happening not only here, Señor, but in every major metro complex across the country.”

MacDonald cleared his throat. Breck threw an irritated glance his way, but the black remained unruffled. “Mr. Governor,” he said, “on investigation, many of the reported offenses have proved to be minor—”

“The gorilla down below trying to bash in human heads with his chains—minor? Refusing to carry out his messenger assignment and wandering around as he damned pleased—that’s minor?” Breck realized his temper had flared; he couldn’t help it. “And what about the ape that was killed while trying to escape from the city last night? Would you characterize
his
offense as minor, Mr. MacDonald?”

In a quiet voice MacDonald answered, “No sir, I would not. But—”

“The ape they shot last night physically assaulted his own master!”

“Only after what must have been extreme provocation, sir. I saw the photos this morning. Over and above the bullet wounds, the ape’s entire body was a mass of scars and welts inflicted by beating—”

“Which he no doubt richly deserved!” Control, Breck thought—control! A small vein in his forehead pulsed as he wheeled toward the terrace. “God knows how many more there are just like him! All burning with resentment, all primed and ready, all—”

He wheeled again, to deliver the remark straight to the suspect. “All waiting, Señor Armando. Waiting, let’s say, for one ape with enough will and intelligence to lead them. An ape that can think. And talk.”

He drew a deep breath, both to let his words sink home, and to regain his composure. For a moment he’d allowed his subconscious fears to surface. But damn it, it was time his associates grasped the perilous potential of the situation. Especially MacDonald, who at times could be an unrealistic bleeding-heart about the ape population.

By the time he spoke again, Jason Breck’s voice was quiet and forceful as it had been at the start of the interview. “I want to ask you one more question, Señor. I can’t impress upon you too strongly that you had better answer with the truth.”

“Of course, naturally I will, sir. My whole purpose in coming here—”

“Shut up,” Hoskyns said, so harshly that Armando started.

Breck flicked Hoskyns a glance of appreciation, sat on the desk close to the suspect. He inclined his head forward, both palms resting on his knees. His eyes bored into those of the older man.

“Did your ape ever talk, Señor Armando? Or show any sign whatsoever of being articulate in your presence?”

“Never!” Armando exclaimed instantly: “Not in my presence or anyone else’s. You can question my circus hands—”

“We intend to do exactly that. Meanwhile, you’ll remain in our custody. Take him out.”

And Breck wheeled and returned to the terrace, hearing Armando’s renewed protest that he needed to find his chimpanzee before an accidental bullet brought him down.

Breck gripped the terrace rail. He noted with a shock that he was holding so tightly that his knuckles were white. He jerked his hands back, forced them to his sides. He drew long, deliberate breaths.

When Breck turned again, only MacDonald remained in the richly furnished office. His black face was unreadable.

In the service tunnel, two glowing ovals. Moving. Watching—to the left, the direction of the mournful harbor horns; then to the right, down the tunnel’s narrowing perspective. There, Caesar hoped and prayed Armando would appear. If not this second, then the next. If not the next, the one after . . .

Counting seconds, then minutes, became a mental game to relieve the mounting worry. Finally, though, he gave it up. He leaned his head against the concrete, closed his eyes, and wrapped his hands around his legs. He was frightened. More frightened than ever before in his life. As Armando had observed, he did have a good time sense. He was well aware that two hours, and more, had gone by.