“This tripe and nonsense,” I told him, “is the bait that will snag our fish. A trap for Pepe and his partner in crime.”
“Who is this mysterious billionaire?”
“Me,” I said. “I’ve always wanted to be rich.”
“But this ship, the space yacht, where is it?”
“Being built now in the naval shipyard at Udrydde. We’re almost ready to go there now, soon as this batch of instructions goes out.”
Captain Steng dropped the releases onto the table, then carefully wiped his hands off to remove any possible infection. He was trying to be fair and considerate of my views, and not succeeding in the slightest.
“It doesn’t make sense,” he growled. “How can you be sure this killer will ever read one of these things. And if he does—why should he be interested? It looks to me as if you are wasting time while he slips through your fingers. The alarm should be out and every ship notified. The Navy alerted and patrols set on all spacelanes—”
“Which he could easily avoid by going around, or better yet not even bother about, since he can lick any ship we have. That’s not the answer,” I told him. “This Pepe is smart and as tricky as a fixed gambling machine. That’s his strength—and his weakness as well. Characters like that never think it possible for someone else to outthink them. Which is what I’m going to do.”
“Modest, aren’t you,” Steng said.
“I try not to be,” I told him. “False modesty is the refuge of the incompetent. I’m going to catch this thug and I’ll tell you how I’ll do it. He’s going to hit again soon, and wherever he hits there will be some kind of a periodical with my plant in it. Whatever else he is after, he is going to take all of the magazines and papers he can find. Partly to satisfy his own ego, but mostly to keep track of the things he is interested in. Such as ship sailings.”
“You’re just guessing—you don’t know all this.”
His automatic assumption of my incompetence was beginning to get me annoyed. I bridled my temper and tried one last time.
“Yes, I’m guessing—an informed guess—but I do know some facts as well. Ogget’s Dream was cleaned out of all reading matter, that was one of the first things I checked. We can’t stop the battleship from attacking again, but we can see to it that the time after that she sails into a trap.”
“I don’t know,” the captain said, “it sounds to me like. …”
I never heard what it sounded like, which is all right since he was getting under my skin and I might have been tempted to pull my pseudo-rank. The alarm sirens cut his sentence off and we foot-raced to the communications room.
Captain Steng won by a nose, it was his ship and he knew all the shortcuts. The psiman was holding out a transcription, but he summed it up in one sentence. He looked at me while he talked and his face was hard and cold.
“They hit again, knocked out a Navy supply satellite, thirty-four men dead.”
“If your plan doesn’t work, admiral,” the captain whispered hoarsely in my ear, “I’ll personally see that you’re flayed alive!”
“If my plan doesn’t work, captain—there won’t be enough of my skin left to pick up with a tweezer. Now if you please, I’d like to get to Udrydde and board my ship as soon as possible.”
The easygoing hatred and contempt of all my associates had annoyed me, thrown me off balance. I was thinking with anger now, not with logic. Forcing a bit of control, I ordered my thoughts, checking off a mental list.
“Belay that last command,” I shouted, getting back into my old space-dog mood. “Get a call through first and find out if any of our plants were picked up during the raid.”
While the psiman unfocused his eyes and mumbled under his breath I rifled some papers, relaxed and cool. The ratings and officers waited tensely, and made some slight attempt to conceal their hatred of me. It took about ten minutes to get an answer.
“Affirmative,” the psiman said. “A store ship docked there twenty hours before the attack. Among other things, it left newspapers containing the article.”
“Very good,” I said calmly. “Send a general order to suspend all future activity with the planted releases. Send it by psimen only, no mention on any other Naval signaling equipment, there’s a good chance now it might be ‘overheard.’ ”
I strolled out slowly, in command of the situation. Keeping my face turned away so they couldn’t see the cold sweat.
It was a fast run to Udrydde where my billionaire’s yacht, the Eldorado, was waiting. The dockyard commander showed me the ship, and made a noble effort to control his curiosity. I took a sadistic revenge on the Navy by not telling him a word about my mission. After checking out the controls and special apparatus with the technicians, I cleared the ship. There was a tape in the automatic navigator that would put me on the course mentioned in all the articles, just a press of a button and I would be on my way. I pressed the button.
It was a beautiful ship, and the dockyard had been lavish with their attention to detail. From bow to rear tubes she was plated in pure gold. There are other metals with a higher albedo, but none that give a richer effect. All the fittings, inside and out, were either machine-turned or plated. All this work could not have been done in the time allotted, the Navy must have adapted a luxury yacht to my needs.
Everything was ready. Either Pepe would make his move—or I would sail on to my billionaire’s paradise planet. If that happened, it would be best if I stayed
