"To tell me a thing is certain when it is not? Do you think I'll praise you for such stupidity, give you another promotion?"
Nefud's face went bone pale.
Look at the chicken, the Baron thought. I am surrounded by such useless clods. If I scattered sand before this creature and told him it was grain, he'd peek at it.
"The man Idaho led us to them, then?" the Baron asked.
"Yes, m'Lord!"
Look how he blurts out his answer, the Baron thought. He said: "They were attempting to flee to the Fremen, eh?"
"Yes, m'Lord."
"Is there more to this . . . report?"
"The Imperial Planetologist, Kynes, is involved, m'Lord. Idaho joined this Kynes under mysterious circumstances . . . I might even say suspicious circumstances."
"So?"
"They . . . ah, fled together to a place in the desert where it's apparent the boy and his mother were hiding. In the excitement of the chase, several of our groups were caught in a lasgun-shield explosion."
"How many did we lose?"
"I'm . . . ah, not sure yet, m'Lord."
He's lying, the Baron thought. It must've been pretty bad.
"The Imperial lackey, this Kynes," the Baron said. "He was playing a double game, eh?"
"I'd stake my reputation on it, m'Lord."
His reputation!
"Have the man killed," the Baron said.
"M'Lord! Kynes is the Imperial Planetologist, His Majesty's own serv--"
"Make it look like an accident, then!"
"M'Lord, there were Sardaukar with our forces in the subjugation of this Fremen nest. They have Kynes in custody now."
"Get him away from them. Say I wish to question him."
"If they demur?"
"They will not if you handle it correctly."
Nefud swallowed. "Yes, m'Lord."
"The man must die," the Baron rumbled. "He tried to help my enemies."
Nefud shifted from one foot to the other.
"Well?"
"M'Lord, the Sardaukar have . . . two persons in custody who might be of interest to you. They've caught the Duke's Master of Assassins."
"Hawat? Thufir Hawat?"
"I've seen the captive myself, m'Lord. 'Tis Hawat."
"I'd not've believed it possible!"
"They say he was knocked out by a stunner, m'Lord. In the desert where he couldn't use his shield. He's virtually unharmed. If we can get our hands on him, he'll provide great sport."
"This is a Mentat you speak of," the Baron growled. "One doesn't waste a Mentat. Has he spoken? What does he say of his defeat? Could he know the extent of . . . but no."
"He has spoken only enough, m'Lord, to reveal his belief that the Lady Jessica was his betrayer."
"Ah-h-h-h-h."
The Baron sank back, thinking; then: "You're sure? It's the Lady Jessica who attracts his anger?"
"He said it in my presence, m'Lord."
"Let him think she's alive, then."
"But, m'Lord--"
