“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.”