Jerry Rhodes said, “You mean that even during the heat of a political campaign these, uh, Florentines, challenge each other to duels, if they’re, uh, slighted?”
“Evidently. It’s one of the reasons we’ve had such a time keeping our agents on the planet. Anyone not up on the niceties of their Code Duello winds up getting challenged before the week is out. And, of course, even a Section G agent can’t win all the time.”
Zorro Juarez said slowly, “It seems to me that when election day rolled around, and the office of First Signore was up for grabs, it would be a matter of the quickest draw, or the best shot, winding up Chief of State.”
“You have said it,” Metaxa said dryly.
“And you mean we’re supporting such a system?” Helen demanded.
Metaxa looked at her. “Don’t read more into Section G than is to be found. We’re interested in pushing progress. What socioeconomic system, religion or any other institution a planet might have is not our business
He looked from one to the other of the four. “For some reason, the Firenze authorities don’t seem to be able to crack the underground. Possibly their police methods are inadequate. Very well”—his voice turned insinuating —“you supposedly have special talents. Use them.”
Chapter Two
Irene Kasansky, as always, briskly efficient, had arranged their cover.
Helen and Dorn Horsten were easy enough. She was to be his daughter. He was the noted algae specialist, making a tour of the member planets of United Planets, coordinating the most recent developments in the field. While on Firenze he would visit the larger universities.
Helen had looked at him and snorted, “Daddy.”
Jerry Rhodes said, “If you were only six inches taller, we could do you up like a mopsy and you could go as my mistress.”
She glared at him. “If I was six inches taller, I’d clobber you. In fact, I’m thinking of doing it anyway.”
Dorn Horsten chuckled. “I’ll never get used to it,” he said.
She turned her glare on her pseudo-parent. “What’s so funny, you overgrown ox?”
“All right, all right,” Irene said. She looked at Zorro, twisted her mouth, looked down at the report on him once again. “You’ll go as a representative of the cattle industry of your home planet. You’ll attempt to sign up some of the Firenze entrepreneurs to import and breed cattle. On these free enterprise planets, especially, there’s always a luxury market for such things as real beef. It’s a status symbol.”
Zorro had nodded. “Should be easy enough.”
Irene Kasansky turned her eyes to Jerry Rhodes, who, after his little verbal bout with Helen, had lapsed back into easy-going bemusement. She said, “What excuse could you possibly have for going to a frontier world such as Firenze?”
He thought about that. Finally, “For fun?”
She didn’t bother to answer. She looked down at the dossier on him. “Where did Supervisor Chu ever locate you?” she muttered.
“At a race track.”
She looked up at him and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He said, as though in apology, “I had just bet on a horse.”
All had their eyes on him now.
He cleared his throat and said, as though this explained all, “It broke its leg.”
No one said anything.
He said, “However, it won.”
“It
“Well, yes, but you see, well, worse things happened to the other horses and jockeys. It was, well, sort of a mess there at the end. But my horse, well, kind of limped over the finish line.”
“Don’t tell me any more,” Irene Kasansky said. “I don’t want to hear it. How is this? You’re a rich young nincompoop from the planet Catalina. They’re taxing your family too much in building that Welfare State of theirs. So you’re coming to Firenze to look into the possibilities of transferring your father’s variable capital to that frontier world. No, mother’s would be better; a father wouldn’t leave it in your hands.”
Jerry nodded, evidently not displeased by the implication. “Sort of a playboy, eh?”
Helen snorted contempt.
Irene thought about it. “I suppose you could handle that sort of cover. All right, a playboy, a kind of ne’er- do-well.” She became brisk again. “I’ll have Wardrobe and the others start working on it all. Be ready to be lobbed over to New Albuquerque Spaceport on the shuttle by Monday morning.”
Their information on the subversive organization which was keeping Firenze in a state of dither was minimal. In fact, the agent who had been killed there had been due to make a lengthy report immediately before his demise. The report hadn’t been forthcoming, and this was one of the first matters Sid Takes had suggested they check.
Not knowing what facilities the underground organization might have available, they had decided to take maximum security measures themselves, to the point of pretending on the space freighter
They went through the motions of meeting, somewhat stiffly at first. Went through, the pretense of Jerry and Zorro reacting negatively to each other. Went to the pretense of Helen getting a childish crush on Zorro.
Only when there were none of the ship’s officers in the lounge did they relax to the point of discussing the ramifications of the assignment.
On the third day out, Earth time, Dr. Horsten sat characteristically in a comfort chair, scanning a tape, oblivious to all. Helen had wriggled herself up onto Zorro’s lap. Jerry Rhodes had taken on the Second Officer, a burly and surly spaceman, at battle chess. The Second, Helmut Drinker by name, had made the mistake of insisting on stiff wagers, and was finding satisfaction in the fact that obviously his opponent hadn’t the advantage of long years of time killing, whilst off watch, devoted to the game.
Jerry, dressed in his foppish Catalina playboy garb, couldn’t have cared less, on the face of it, but his men were in precipitate retreat before the onslaught of four of Blinker’s tanks.
At the crucial moment, the ship gave an unprecedented lurch and the pieces on the board scrambled. The Second goggled at the disaster. He looked up at the door, toward the ship’s bridge, shook his head unbelievingly, stared down at the mess again. He looked up at Jerry accusingly, but then shook his head again.
“It was a sure thing,” he said. “And that’s the second time.”
Jerry said mildly, “The first time, you knocked them over yourself with your sleeve. This time I was just about to counterattack.”
The Second goggled at the disaster. He looked up at Jerry.
“I could reconstruct the game.”
Jerry said sadly, “It’s not the bet, it’s the principle of the thing. I’m sure I couldn’t reconstruct it, and I doubt if you could.”
Helmut came to his feet, poorly suppressed rage obvious. Without another word, he stomped from the lounge.
Zorro said to Helen, “Look. You better get off my lap.”
“Why, Uncle Zorro, whyever for?” She looked into his face, in childish innocence.
“Get off my lap, you little witch. Maybe to that burro Brinker you look like a little girl, but I know better.”
Jerry said, “Hey, Helen, you can sit on my lap if you want.”
She snorted at him, even as she jumped to the floor. She went over to where Jerry was setting up the board again and stood there, her tiny fists on her hips.
