Puzzles of the Black Widowers - By Isaac Asimov Page 0,61

price and abandon any principle to gain the freedom of someone you loved? Wouldn't you pay a ransom to kidnappers if that would keep them from killing your wife?"

"Yes, of course, I would," said Rubin, his eyes flashing through his thick spectacles. "I would, as an individual. But would I expect two hundred and thirty million Americans to suffer a weakening of the national interest because I am suffering? Not even an American president has the right to do that, and that was Reagan's mistake. And don't think that hostage-taking is an aberration of peace. It isn't. We're at war with terrorism and the hostages are prisoners of war. We wouldn't think of giving an enemy arms to buy back our prisoners of war. It would have been treason to do that in any other war we've fought."

"Terrorism isn't like any other war," growled Thomas Trumbull, "and you can't make a point-by-point analogy."

"Actually," said Roger Halsted, "all this talk about national interest is irrelevant. Surely, terrorism is a global problem which will yield only to global action."

Mario Gonzalo said, "Oh, sure. Global! How do you manage a global solution when each nation is willing to make a deal with the terrorists, hoping that it will be left alone and to hell with its neighbors?"

"That's what's got to stop," said Halsted earnestly. "Trying to buy off the terrorists only points out to them how they might make a profit. If hostages sell at a premium, they will take more hostages whenever they run short of funds."

"Of course, and our proper answer to the taking of hostages is making the procedure expensive for the hostage takers. You inflict casualties on them," said Gonzalo.

"Provided you know who the enemy is," protested Avalon. "You can't simply kill people at random."

"Why not? We do that in every war. When we bombed German and Japanese cities during World War II, didn't we know that uncounted thousands of totally innocent people would be killed, including babies? Did we think our bombs were selective enough to kill only villains?"

"All of Germany and Japan was fighting us, even if only by passively supporting the German and Japanese governments," said Avalon.

"And do you think that terrorism can survive without at least the passive approval or acquiescence of the society in which it exists?" demanded Rubin.

At that point, James Drake, who had been listening to the exchange with manifest unease, said, "Gentlemen, my guest is coming up the stairs. Could we suspend the argument for now, and not return to it, either? Please!" He then said hurriedly, "Henry, my guest isn't a drinker. Would you get him a large diet cola? Not much ice."

Henry, the perennial waiter at the Black Widower banquets, nodded his head slightly just as the guest entered the banquet room.

He was a tall man, darkly tanned, with a large curved nose, and blue eyes that stood out startlingly against his dark coloring. His hair, still copious, was graying and he looked fiftyish.

"Sorry I'm late, Jim," he said, grasping Drake's hand. "The train did not feel at all bound by the timetable."

"Not too late, Sandy," said Drake. "Let me introduce you to the Black Widowers. This is Alexander Mountjoy, gentlemen."

One by one, the Black Widowers advanced to shake his hand. Last came Henry with his tall drink. Mountjoy sniffed at it, then grinned. "You warned the waiter, I see."

Drake nodded. "And I should add that our waiter is Henry, and that he is a particularly valued member of our club."

The dinner was a hearty one. Melon, followed by a thick vegetable soup, a prime rib roast with baked potato and broccoli, and apple pie with cheese for dessert.

Rubin, having abandoned topical references, chose to point out Charles Dickens's contribution to the evolution of the modern detective story with a stern disquisition on Bleak House, which only he, of those at the table, had read. Drake, who was quite openly relieved at this new direction of the conversation, pointed out that Dickens's detective had come a generation after Edgar Allan Poe and that, if Rubin's descriptions were correct, Dickens had not at all benefited by Poe's work.

This elicited only a snarl of contempt from Rubin, who turned to Wilkie Collins and Emile Gaboriau. At a crucial moment, Drake mentioned Arthur Conan Doyle, at which point Mountjoy plunged in joyously and conversation grew general.

Over the coffee, Drake gave his water glass its ritual tinkle and said, "Manny has done his whole evening's share of talking by now, so if you