“Did you prove any of them were Engelists?” Helen said impatiently.
“No.”
The two stared at him.
Finally Helen snapped, “Have you ever, in your whole career, seen a person that you absolutely knew was an Engelist?”
The hesitation was there once more. Finally, “No.”
Now they really goggled him. Helen snapped, “Look. How do you know there are any Engelists?”
“They attempt to subvert the institutions of the Free Democracy of the Commonwealth of Firenze.”
“That’s not what I asked you,” she snarled. She looked up at Horsten. “What in the hell’s going on?”
He was tugging on the lobe of his right ear and staring at their victim. “You know…” he said.
“What?”
“I think this man’s been memory-washed or something.”
“Are you zany? He’s a colonel in their damned Anti-Subversion Ministry. Who’d memory-wash him?”
“How would I know?” he said impatiently,
She jumped to the floor, went back to the desk where her Dolly’s Nurse Kit sat.
“What’re you doing?”
“What do you think I’m doing? Giving him a shot of our own memory-wash. What else is there to do? He doesn’t know a thing about the Engelists.”
Horsten, followed by Helen, pushed his way through the door of the penthouse suite and strode on into the living room. He came up abruptly.
“What in the name of Holy Jumping Zen are you doing?” he roared.
Zorro Juarez and Jerry Rhodes looked up. Helen’s hatbox of toys sat next to them on the floor. Zorro was cross-legged before a cocktail table. Jerry stood next to him. On the table was propped one of Helen’s gadget toys, a supposed miniature Tri-Di set. Even at this distance, Horsten and Helen could make out a face on the screen of the device.
Zorro said, “Making a report to Sid Jakes.”
The two newcomers to the scene approached nearer, until the face of the Section G assistant head was clear to their view too.
Jakes grinned at them. “How goes the assignment?”
“It doesn’t,” Horsten growled, after shooting a disapproving glance at his two associates. “We just broke into one of the Firenze ministries devoted to local subversive activities. We put a mucky-muck we found there under Scop.”
“Neat trick.” Sid Jakes grinned. “Why? And what did you find out?”
“Not a damn thing,” Helen snorted. “This is the most underground underground in the history of undergrounds.”
Dorn Horsten looked down into the small screen of the communicator. “So far, we’ve drawn a blank. I assume Zorro’s told you that evidently the Engelists got to the files of agent Bulchand before we were able to discover what, if anything, he had on them.”
“Yes.” Sir Jakes nodded, over the light-years. His usually exuberant voice clouded slightly. “He also told me that everybody and his cousin on Firenze seems familiar with the Dawnworld story.”
Horsten shot another look at Zorro, whose face was registering a certain amount of defiance. The scientist said, I wasn’t in favor of making this report at this time. Evidently Zorro and Jerry have overridden my opinion.”
Sid Jakes pursed his lips. “I doubt if there’s any connection, but we’ve had a complication here on the same matter. I might as well mention it, on the off chance that you’ll turn up something there on Firenze. Be a neat trick if you do. I can’t see any reason to believe…” He let it fade off.
All four of his subordinates were frowning at him.
Sid Jakes grinned. “Ronny Bronston is still in the hospital, but his office was broken into early this morning.”
“Broken into?” Helen said. “Bight there in the Octagon?”
“He didn’t answer her directly. His grin turned rueful. “Somebody stole the starchart.”
Jerry said. “The starchart giving the location of the Dawnworlds?”
Sid Jakes looked at him, his head cocked slightly. “How did you know?”
But at that moment a voice from the entryway boomed, “His Zelenza, the First Signore of the Free Democratic Commonwealth of Firenze!”
PART THREE
Chapter Nine
“On, OH,” Sid Jakes said, in the tiny screen, “you people have times there, don’t you? Let me know later. Off.” His grinning face faded.
But the four were already staring at the entry.
There were two ultra-efficient looking guards with unfamiliar type of handweapons at the ready, flanking the door. Their eyes were straight ahead, their expressions those of the goon down through the centuries.
He of the booming voice stood between them. Though in mufti, he was obviously to uniform born. His eyes swept them, swept the room in quick check. He stepped back, a double step, and faced the door, as though deity were about to enter.
Maggiore Roberto Verona and one other came through it. Whoever the other was, he obviously outranked the maggiore. His uniform was magnificent and well bespattered with decorations.
Helen had adjusted well enough to say sotto voce to Jerry, “The fewer the wars, the more medals the big brass wear.” She had scooped up the disguised communicator and placed in it Gertrude’s toy hands.
The man who was obviously none other than the First Signore came striding in, quite obviously at his full ease.
“Apologies everyone, apologies,” he called, his voice casual. “Maggiore, I believe you are acquainted with our friends from overspace. The honors, please.”
Tim First Signore was a man barely in his mid-thirties but bore the air of command as though it had been with him since the cradle. But his, also, was the ages-old face of the politician; the open friendliness, the so evident sincerity, the obvious integrity, the love of his fellow man.
“Already, I don’t like this guy,” Helen muttered.
“Shh,” Horsten hissed.
Maggiore Verona said, his voice indicating the degree to which he was overwhelmed by being in the presence of his ultimate chief, “Your Zelenza, may I present the celebrated Dr. Dorn Horsten, and the Signorina Helen Horsten?”
“An honor, Your Zelenza,” the doctor said, bowing to the exact extent a noted scientist would be expected to, to a chief of state of a member world of U.P.
Helen stared, put her thumb in her mouth, caught herself, pulled it out and stuck both her hands behind her back, and continued to stare, her little feet toeing in.
“The honor is mine, Doctor. I am informed your work is known from one extent of the confederation to the other.” The First Signore bowed. And to Helen, “My, what a pretty dolly you have there.”
“His Eccellenza Gerald Rhodes, entrepreneur from the planet Catalina.”
Jerry said, projecting the fact that in his time he had met many a bigwig, “A pleasure, Your Zelenza.”
The First Signore eyed him appraisingly. “My pleasure, Signore Rhodes. I am told you visit our world with the possible intention of taking advantage of its many opportunities.”
