“Quite serious.”
Glawen smiled thoughtfully. “Floreste discusses Titus Pompo in some detail.”
“I would like to hear this letter,” said Egon Tamm. “My guests might also be interested. Perhaps you would join us for lunch tomorrow and read the letter aloud.”
“I will be happy to do so.”
“Good! Until tomorrow, then, a bit before noon.”
In the morning Glawen telephoned the airport and was connected to Chilke. 'Good morning, Glawen,' said Chilke. 'What is on your mind?'
“I would like a few words with you, at your convenience.”
“One time is as good as another.'
'I'll be there at once.”
Arriving at the airport, Glawen went to the glass-walled office at the side of the hangar. Here he found Chilke: a man of invincible nonchalance, a veteran of a thousand escapades, some creditable. Chilke was sturdy and heavy-shouldered, of middle stature, with a blunt-featured face, an unruly mat of dust-colored curls and cheeks roped with cartilage.
Chilke stood by a side-table, pouring tea into a mug. He looked over his shoulder. “Sit down, Glawen. Will you have some tea?'
“If you please.”
Chilke poured out another mug. “This is the authentic stuff, from the far hills of Old Earth, not just some local seaweed.' Chilke settled himself into his chair. “What brings you out so early?”
Glawen looked through the glass panes of the partition and across the hangar. “Can we talk without being overheard?”
“I think so. No one has his ear pressed to the door. That's a feature of glass walls. Any odd conduct makes you conspicuous.'
“What about microphones?”
Chilke swung around and turned knobs to bring a wild wailing music from a speaker. “That should jam any microphone within hearing range, so long as you don’t try to sing. Now what is it that is so secret?'
“This is the copy of a letter Floreste wrote yesterday afternoon. He says that my father is still alive. He also mentions you.' Glawen gave the letter to Chilke. “Read it for yourself.'
Chilke took the letter, leaned back in his chair and read. Halfway through he looked up. 'Isn't it amazing? Smonny still thinks I own a great hoard of Grandpa Swaner's valuables.”
“It’s only amazing if you don’t. And you don’t?”
“I hardly think so.”
“Have you ever made an inventory of the estate?'
Chilke shook his head. “Why bother? It’s just refuse cluttering up the barn. Smonny knows this very well; she's burgled the place four times.”
“You're sure it was Smonny”
'No one else has showed any interest in the stuff. I wish she would take herself in hand. It makes me nervous to be the object of her avarice, or affection, or wrath-whatever it is.' Chilke returned to the letter. He finished, mused a moment, then tossed the letter back to Glawen. 'Now you want to rush out and rescue your father.”
“Something like that.”
“And Bodwyn Wook is joining you on the mission?”
“I doubt it. He is a bit over-cautious.”
“I suspect for good reason.”
Glawen shrugged. “He is convinced that Shattorak is defended and that an attack from the air would cost us five or six flyers and half of the staff.”
'You call that over-caution? I call it common sense.”
“A raid would not need to come down from above. We could land a force somewhere on the slope of Shattorak and attack from the side. He still sees difficulties.”
'So do I.” said Chilke. “Where would the flyers land? In the jungle?'
“There must be open areas.”
“So it might be. First we would need to alter the landing gear of all our flyers, which would be duly noted by the spies'. They would also give notice of our departure and Smonny would have five hundred Yips waiting for us.'
“I thought you had chased out all your spies?”
Chilke held out his hands in a gesture of helpless and injured innocence. 'What happens when I need to hire mechanics? I use what I find. I know I have spies, just like a dog knows it has fleas. I even know who they are. There's one of my prime candidates yonder, working on the carry-all door: a magnificent specimen by the name of Benjamie.”
Looking toward the carry-all, Glawen observed a tall young man of superb physique, flawless features, coal black hair and clear bronze skin. Glawen watched him a moment, then asked: “What makes you think he's a spy?”
'He works hard, obeys all orders, smiles more than necessary, and watches everything which is going on. That’s how I pick out all the spies: they work the hardest and give the least trouble-aside from their crimes, of course. If I were a deep-dyed cynic, I might try to hire all spies.'
Glawen had been watching Benjamie. “He doesn't look like a typical spy.'
“Perhaps not. He looks even less like a typical worker. I've always felt in my bones it was Benjamie who laid the trap for your father.'
'But you have no proof.”
'If I had proof, Benjamie would not be grinning so cheerfully.”
“Well, so long as Benjamie is not watching, this is what I have in mind.' Glawen explained his concept. Chilke listened dubiously. 'At this end, the notion is feasible, but I can't turn a tap without clearance from Bodwyn Wook.'
Glawen gave a sour nod. “That is what I thought you'd say. Very well; I'll go this very minute and put my case to him.'
Glawen hurried up Wansey Way to the New Agency, only to be informed by Hilda, the vinegary office manager, that Bodwyn Wook had not yet put in an appearance. Hilda was suspicious and resentful of Glawen. She felt that he enjoyed too many perquisites. “You’ll have to wait, just like everybody else,' said Hilda.
Glawen cooled his heels for an hour before Bodwyn Wook’s arrival. Ignoring Glawen, he stopped by Hilda’s desk to mutter a few terse words, then-marched past Glawen looking neither to right nor to left.
Glawen waited another ten minutes, then told Hilda: “You may announce to the superintendent that captain Glawen Clattuc has arrived and wishes a word with him.”
“He knows you're here.”
“I can’t wait much longer.”
“Oh?' demanded Hilda sarcastically. “You have an important engagement elsewhere?”
“The Conservator has invited me to lunch at Riverview House.”
Hilda grimaced. She spoke into the mesh of the transceiver.
“Glawen is becoming restive.'
Bodwyn Wook’s voice came as a harsh mumble. Hilda turned to Glawen. “You can go on in.”
Glawen marched with dignity into the inner office. Bodwyn Wook looked up from his desk and jerked his thumb toward a chair. Be seated, please. What is all this about you and the Conservator?”
“I had to tell that woman something; otherwise she would keep me sitting bolt upright all day. It's clear that she dislikes me intensely. “
“Wrong!' declared Bodwyn Wook. “She adores you but is afraid to show it.”
'I find that hard to believe,” said Glawen.
“No matter let us not waste time discussing Hilda and her megrims. Why are you here? Do you have
