Herb tried to concentrate on the reasoning. "Yes," he said.
"They will press for an immediate vote. They have known, even if they don't realize it consciously, that the longer they delay, the surer they are of being defeated."
"If we don't ... can't...."
I don't know, the Oligarch thought. I don't know. Threats? Try to plant the charges secretly? "We'll have to convince them. And we've got to do it within a week—maybe a little more, a day or two more."
"What do we do? How? I mean, what do we tell them?" Herb's thoughts were like fog. He wished he could go back to sleep.
The Oligarch knew he was wasting his time explaining to Herb. He wished that he could go before the Committee, himself, but he dared not. Automatic reactions were far more consistent and convincing than his calculating deceit would be. He could conceivably be caught in a lie. Not Herb.
"I'll ... I'll try...."
The Oligarch analyzed Herb's potential. Ten days. Ten days. If he becomes unreliable, where shall I find another?
"We have almost three weeks," Herb said. "We could give them fifteen or sixteen days.... We could plant the charges in one day...."
"You may as well go back to sleep, Herb."