But just one baby wouldn't matter. Just one.
Prior's baby.
With nervous fingers he switched on the annunciator and said, "If there are any calls for me, take the message. I'll be out of my office for the next half-hour."
[II]
He stepped out of the office, glancing around furtively. The outer office was busy: half a dozen girls were answering calls, opening letters, coordinating activities. Walton slipped quickly past them into the hallway.
There was a knot of fear in his stomach as he turned toward the lift tube. Six weeks of pressure, six weeks of tension since Popeek was organized and old man FitzMaugham had tapped him for the second-in-command post ... and now, a rebellion. The sparing of a single child was a small rebellion, true, but he knew he was striking as effectively at the base of Popeek this way as if he had brought about repeal of the entire Equalization Law.
Well, just one lapse, he promised himself. I'll spare Prior's child, and after that I'll keep within the law.
He jabbed the lift tube indicator and the tube rose in its shaft. The clinic was on the twentieth floor.
"Roy."