George swirled ice and smiled. "Norma tells me you can speak for your government?" George nodded. "Let's sit down." "Thank you." "Now here's the way I feel about it. I'm on your team. We're both on the same team. I want to help you all I can, and I know you'll want to help me." George nodded. "I was thinking: if you would leave. Not tell anybody. Leave tonight. I don't mean for good, but make it look that way. You see?" "Our leaving would serve as an emotional shock?" "Yes, exactly. Your leaving might be just what the people need to wake them up and get them on our team. I don't need to tell you that the Senate is likely to reject your offer. I mean, right now. The way things stand now. My first mail is coming in. It's predominantly unfavorable. But some telegrams I've gotten, I think the people are coming around. But they're still not around yet. We need a couple of weeks. My idea is, I'd like to be the one that--more or less--handles it." "You want us to work through you?" "You have put your finger on it, George. If there's just one Earthman you can trust and work through, who knows the ropes...." "I believe I understand." "And when you come back, you make it plain that it was Bud Council who brought you back--it was Bud Council who really convinced you to return." "You and I," George said, "will probably be able to work out a deal." Jubilation rang in Bud's ears. This was it. The talk of working out a deal was an assurance of victory. President Bud--no, perhaps it would be better, more dignified, to be President _Phil_. He would write it out and see which looked best: President Philip Council or President Bud Council.... History lay heavily upon his thoughts.... For the first time he actually felt at home with a starman. "Perhaps you would do something for us?" George said. Bud found himself looking deep into George's eyes. Instinctively he knew that George knew him better than he knew himself, and that George had carefully studied him according to no one could tell what alien science. "Why, why, yes, yes, of course." "Well," George said, rising and going to Bud and dropping a hand across his shoulder, "just to be sure that you really are on our team, perhaps you could give us a little token of loyalty." Bud grew cold in anticipation. But the crowds cheering and the banners waving.... No! Not now, they couldn't snatch it away now! What was it George wanted? Money? A signed agreement? Patronage? "Why, yes, naturally." George's hand tightened in friendly reassurance. He knew that he had found his man. "Your brother's head. I believe his name is Frank. His head. We'll expect you to have it for us when we return in two weeks. Two weeks from tomorrow." He no longer needed to count on Herb. CHAPTER VII