For a long moment the room was silent. No one moved. Beardsley's thick glasses glinted eerily as he peered around at them, from Mandleco to Sheila to Pederson and back to Mandleco.
"Well now," he said, "this is remarkable. Most remarkable! Everyone hated Carmack. Professor Losch—we know why. Pederson here—he's told us why. His wife—I think it's obvious. Who else? Surely not you, Mandleco! Carmack was a pal of yours! You backed his cause with ECAIAC, you lobbied for him, you even stole patents for him.... I wonder what persuasion he held over you to bring all that about. Or is persuasion too mild a word? Vintage '60 had a better term for it!"
Slowly, through the murk of his agitation Mandleco seized a measure of control; he gazed at Beardsley out of cold incalculable eyes now hooded with dire intention. "You're really trying hard, aren't you!" he grated. "Well, make the most of it, because I guarantee you won't be around, not after the next Annual Basic! Do you understand that—Mister Coördinator?"
But Beardsley was watching Pederson now, whose face took on a sudden febrile gleam. "Blackmail ... by God, Beardsley, that's it! And I have the proof! Sure, it was Carmack I was after, but I dug out a lot more—" Pederson shot a challenging look at the Minister of Justice. "It goes back some years, but I can prove that Amos Carmack had enough on Mandleco to finish him politically any time he chose. You can bet your life Mandleco hated him. Enough to warrant murder!"
There was an odd, illogical delight in the way Pederson said it—and something almost frightening the way Mandleco just stood there in cold silence, gazing at the tele-columnist with a look of boundless regret.
Beardsley said very softly, "Thanks, Pederson, but I'd suggest you save it. It's scarcely pertinent now."
"Not pertinent? But, man, I tell you I have proof! What better motive would you—"
"Motive?" Beardsley hit him with a pitying glance. "Why, I thought it was obvious. We've progressed beyond motives now."
Again there was an electric silence, and Beardsley let it assimilate. "I have said," he went on, "that all this is most remarkable. But you know, the really remarkable thing—" He paused and watched them. Mandleco continued to grind a fist into his palm; Pederson straightened attentively, and d'Arlan, sneery no longer, moved over to stand beside Sheila Carmack.
"—the really remarkable thing is this. I am now ready to state, unequivocally, that the person who killed Amos Carmack ... didn't hate him at all."