The Best Made Plans | Page 2

aside to reveal a tall, slender man, who approached the
camera deliberately. He glanced aside for a moment, then pinned his
audience with an intense stare.
"This has been a terrible experience for many of our people," he began.
"And it has been a harrowing time for your public officials. One of our
own--a one-time police commissioner--a man sworn to uphold law and
order, has suddenly revealed himself as a prime enemy of the realm and
of our people. This in itself is a bad thing. But this was not enough for
Harle Waern." He held out a hand, his face growing stern.
"No, Waern was unwilling to abide by the results of a lawful trial,
knowing the outcome of any full investigation into his activities, he
chose to lash out further at authority and to burn his way out of
detention. He killed some of his guards. He released other criminals.
He formed them into a gang, enlisting their aid in cutting and burning
his way across our land in an obvious effort to reach the hills and
possibly stir some of the mountain clans to rebellion. And as he went,
he left destruction and death." He nodded his head sadly.
"Yes, it is painful to report, but it must be admitted that no less than
twenty innocent people have lost their lives as a result of Waern's
actions. And many more have been injured or have suffered property

loss. It has been a savage affair--one we'll be long in forgetting. And it
is with considerable relief that we can report its final conclusion." He
stepped back, then faded from view.
* * * * *
The screen brightened again to show a rambling white house which
nestled in a grove of shade trees. Behind it, rose a small hill which
acted as a mere step toward the peaks of high mountains beyond.
Before it was a broad lawn, dotted with lounging furniture. Reflected in
its windows was the glow of the rising sun, which flood-lit the entire
scene. From the speakers came muted sounds. An insect chirped.
Hurrying footsteps crunched on gravel. There were soft rattles and
bangs, and somewhere a motor rumbled briefly, then coughed to
silence.
"We are now," said a voice, "a few miles outside of the city of Riandar,
where Harle Waern had this summer estate built for him."
As the announcer spoke, the camera moved about to pick out details of
the estate. It showed a swimming pool back of the house. It swung
briefly about landscaped gardens, scanning across cultivated fields and
orchards. It flicked across a winding, tree-lined road, then came back to
a rough area before the smooth lawn.
Partially concealed from the house by waving grass and field weeds,
men were moving cautiously about the fields. Near a small hummock, a
loudspeaker rose from its stand, to face the house. A man lay not too
far from the base of the stand. Microphone in hand, he looked intently
through the grass, to study the windows of the house. Then he glanced
back to note the positions of the others.
The camera's viewpoint raised, to take in the entire scene beyond the
field. The sky blurred, then seemed to open, to show Daniel Stern's
long, thin face. He cast his eyes down for a moment, seeming to take in
the details of the scene, then stared straight at the audience, his deep-set
eyes glowing hypnotically.

"Here then," he said slowly, "is one of the properties which Harle
Waern bought while acting as Police Commissioner of Riandar. Here is
a mere sample of the gains he enjoyed for a time as the price of his
defections from his oath of office. And here is the stage he chose for
the final act, his last struggle against the nation he had betrayed."
His face faded from view, the deep-set eyes shining from the sky for a
time after the rest of the face had faded from view.
Then the camera swung again, to show a low-slung weapons carrier
which had pulled up a few dozen meters back of the man with the
microphone. About it, the air shimmered a little, as though a filmy
screen lay between vehicle and camera. It softened the harsh lines of
the carrier and its weapon, lending them an almost mystical
appearance.
The crew chief was clearly visible, however. He was making
adjustments on one of the instruments on the projector mount. One of
the crew members stood by on the charge rack, busying himself with
adjustments on the charge activators. None of the crew looked toward
the camera.
The loud-speaker clicked and rasped into life.
"Harle Waern, this is the Enforcement Corps. We know you are in there.
You were seen to go into that house with your