students.
She said, “I’m sure Kamp will emerge as a leader for the radicals. He has a talent for leadership. He speaks well and offers simplistic solutions with powerful emotional appeal, and believes what he says so thoroughly, he can turn even skeptics into believers.
Active
believers.” Even without looking directly at Val, she could feel her increasing tension. “If there were any way he could be silenced, I’d recommend it, but the Concordia unit is convinced it can’t be done short of harming him in one way or another.”
Val’s voice was oddly flat. “If he’s so dangerous, I’m surprised you’d hesitate at that.”
The statement was so out of character, Erica couldn’t entirely contain her astonishment. A comment like that would be far more typical of—
She froze. She had the answer, but for the moment she could only think,
Not Val—not Val Severin
. Perhaps the numbness of shock helped her maintain her self-control. She frowned up at Val, but only with mild annoyance.
“When have we ever condoned causing harm of any sort unless it’s unavoidable? And Kamp is a leader. In negating a leader, one must first consider his followers. They believe in him, however false or distorted his statements, however selfish his motives. Leaders become martyrs all too easily, and then the damage is usually irreversible.”
Val was staring fixedly at the screen, tension drawing harsh lines around her mouth.
“What do you intend to do about him?”
“What can we do, Val, except investigate him thoroughly and try to accelerate the normal process of disillusionment among his followers?”
“You seem quite sure an investigation will turn up the material you need for disillusionment.”
Erica saw the color in Val’s cheeks deepening, the defiant lift of her jaw. She thought Erica was purposely drawing a parallel between Damon Kamp and Predis Ussher. No one else in Val’s acquaintance was close enough to Kamp’s psychic type for a parallel to be drawn, and her responses obviously weren’t for Kamp himself; they were too strong.
Ussher had reached Val somehow, converted her, but she was still capable of guilt on some level; Ussher hadn’t yet convinced her that betraying friends was something she could do with impunity. And, more important, she was still capable of recognizing that a parallel
could
be drawn between Ussher and Kamp if she thought Erica was drawing one. Perhaps she considered it a subtle test or challenge.
Erica looked up at her, keeping her voice level.
“We have tapes of Kamp’s speeches, Val. You should listen to them. He shows himself incapable of honesty or objectivity; he only uses facts when they serve his purpose, and his purpose is to forward his own ambitions. Couple that with his emotional instability, and it’s almost inevitable that we’ll find the means for disillusionment.”
Val shrugged, putting on an expression of disinterest, but her hand went to her hair in a smoothing gesture Erica was familiar with as an index of uneasiness.
“Well, I suppose if the means aren’t there, you can always manufacture them.”
You
. Not
we
. That cut as deep as the accusation, but Erica even managed a tolerant smile as she replied, “That will be neither necessary nor advisable. Have you read the Lampre treatise on the psychopathology of dominance? He did a series of studies on personalities of Damon Kamp’s psychic group. The process of disillusionment needs no artificial encouragement. Given enough time, it’s generally inevitable. I’d like to be sure Kamp isn’t a localized phenomenon, however. How’s your schedule, Val? Are you swamped?”
That shift of direction seemed to throw her off balance.
“I—well, no, not at the moment.”
Erica leaned back, smiling at her. “I’ve been putting so much on your shoulders lately, but that’s the price of competence. Or, rather, faith.”
Val paled at that, but mustered a weak smile. “Thank you.”
“I’d like you to
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