At long last the scientist halted, his face puzzled. “No signs of the place being bugged whatsoever,” he rumbled.
Helen, frowning, deactivated the doll, then snapped her fingers. “You know what?”
They all looked at her.
“It’s the suite used by the First Signore, when he’s in town. Don’t you see? The last place on Firenze that would be bugged.” She snorted. “What luck.” Then she glared at Jerry. “I take that word back.”
Jerry chortled. “Why?” he said. “Here we all are, in the most comfortable quarters in the city. All together, which makes our work that much the easier. And with the perfect excuse for being all together. Where’s the bar? There must be a bar in a layout like this. I wonder what kind of guzzle they have on Firenze.”
“I noticed one in the main living room,” Zorro said. He led the way.
No one was opposed to settling down in a comfort chair or couch. Jerry played host, taking their orders and making up their drinks. As was to be expected, the bar, though not large, was supplied with the most exquisite potables to be found on all the most hedonistically inclined worlds of United Planets.
“This is the life!” Jerry announced, his glass up in a gesture of toast.
Horsten was looking at Helen who had chosen a chair so large that her chubby little legs failed to reach the edge of the seat. She was sitting there with a monstrously big champagne glass and gulping it with considerable satisfaction.
The outsized scientist shook his head. “I’ll never get used to it,” he said.
Helen finished off about half her drink and then turned to Jerry, her eyes fishy. “Well,” she snarled. “What was the stupid idea of dropping that Section G badge right in front of those damned customs men? You trying to get us all shot?”
Jerry was taken aback. His mouth took on an expression that was just short of a pout “I didn’t do it on purpose,” he said plaintively.
“I thought we’d agreed to leave everything that might possibly connect us with the Department of Interplanetary Justice back at the Octagon. Suppose they’d searched us.”
Jerry looked like an adolescent who’d just been scolded. “Aw,” he said. I’m pretty proud of being a Section G agent. I wanted to carry my badge.”
Helen rolled her eyes upward.
Jerry said brightly, “Wasn’t it just my luck that earthquake came along? And the customs man, Rudolf, forgetting that the badge dropped out of my jerkin?”
“Earthquake!” Horsten muttered. “I damn near broke my back, shaking that room.”
“Forgot!” Helen snarled. “You think it was a cinch, my scratching that Florentine with a memory-wash hypo? He’s had three hours cleaned out of his memory. Just keep your fingers crossed some suspicious medico doesn’t give him a thorough checking out. That Maggiore Verona can’t be as foolish as he looks. If he knew somebody’d gone to the trouble of memory-washing friend Rudolf, he’d want to know why. And they’d go through our luggage like mineral oil.”
Horsten winced at her language.
Zorro worked away at his drink and said thoughtfully, “I wonder what would happen if we just came right out and let this Roberto Verona know why we were really here. After all, we’re on his side. We’re present to help get rid of these Engelists that are evidently bedeviling the planet to the point where nothing can be accomplished.”
Dom Horsten said, “How do you know he’s not an Engelist himself?”
Zorro looked at him.
The doctor said impatiently, “Holy Ultimate, man, it’s not unprecedented, you know. Evidently, Firenze’s underground has infiltrated everywhere. Who is to say they aren’t even represented among the First Signore’s cabinet, the Second Signore, right on down to the Tenth? For all we know, any or all of them might be Engelists, not to speak of their staffs, such as this Maggiore Verona.”
Helen said, “It’s no mistake that former Section G operatives have pulled a zero here. This underground is efficient. And you know at what point an underground really gets efficient?”
“When?” Jerry said.
“Just before it takes over,” Helen said. “This assignment of ours is going to be accomplished but fast, or we’ll wind up with chaos on this planet.”
Horsten said unhappily, “Just about anything can happen when a revolution breaks out. The whole planet could be devastated, set back a century or more, so far as progress is concerned.”
Zorro finished his drink and chuckled. “I just thought of a wonderful idea for Section G to wrangle its way on just about every planet in the U.P. confederation.” He got up from his chair and went to the bar for a refill.
They looked after him, waiting.
He gestured with his glass. “We latch onto one of those matter converters the Dawnworlders have. And we take it to any planet where they still utilize money. Suppose platinum is the means of exchange. Fine, we take one ingot along and duplicate it, over and over again. With it, we bribe every official on the planet, from king, president, holy theocrat, or whatever, down to dog catcher, into the form of socioeconomic system we want.”
The other three laughed dutifully.
“Sounds great,” Jerry said.
Zorro said, “Just where are these Dawnworlds located, anyway? I was kidding, but you know, it’s an idea. If Section G had one of those things at its disposal, what a secret weapon it would be.”
“Forget about it,” Helen muttered. “In that direction is disaster—for the whole race.”
Horsten said, “Where the Dawnworlds are is a top secret, even in Section G. Somewhere beyond the planet Phrygia, of course, but that’s almost meaningless, so far as directions are concerned. Phrygia is—or was—the farthest in toward the center of the galaxy that man has thus far settled. But with no more navigating direction than that, you could seek the Dawnworlds forever.”
Zorro grunted, only half interested. “Well, somebody must know where they are. After all, a spaceforces ship or so has been out there. What was his name, who handled it?”
“Ronny Bronston,” Helen supplied. “Bronston and Agent Birdman.”
“Where’s Birdman and Bronston now?”
“Birdman’s dead, and Ronny’s in the hospital,” Helen said sourly. “I understand he used to be an easy-going, nice boy type. Now he’s Sid Jake’s favorite triggerman, one of the best. Don’t let that exterior of Sid Jakes fool you. You have to watch these dedicated people. They’ll wind up getting you clobbered. There was a guy named Joshua who came from an obscure town called Nazareth. Very dedicated. He had eleven particularly keen followers, but history doesn’t record that any of them did so well.”
“Very funny,” the dark complected agent said.
Horsten finished his drink and set his glass down on a cocktail table. “So much for jabber,” he said. “Let’s get down to our program of action. What’s first on the agenda?”
“We’ve got to locate this subversive underground,” Jerry said. “And with my luck…”
“Bounce it.” Helen sneered.
The door hummed and they looked up, frowning.
Zorro said, “I wouldn’t think Verona would be bothering us this soon.
Horsten lumbered to his feet and walked in the direction of the entry. Helen skipped along beside him, holding a hand. It made a charming scene.
The door was old-fashioned and without visor, in keeping with the decor of the
Two stood there. It took a moment for Helen and her supposed father to recognize them. They had changed from their uniforms into very formal looking clothing. They were two of Chief Customs Inspector Grossi’s men.
Horsten frowned. “Yes?”
They bowed formally. “The Signore Juarez is without doubt here?”
Helen stuck a thumb in her mouth. “You mean my boyfriend Zorro?” she said around it.
“That will be all, dear,” Horsten said. Then to the newcomers, “Why, yes. Citizen Juarez is here.”
The other one spoke, his voice as formal as his partner’s. “We call on a matter of honor,” he announced. “Undoubtedly, the Signore Juarez will have someone to act for him.”
