“Great God!” I bellowed. “This is the damnedest piece of impudence I’ve ever had to suffer from any subordinates in my whole State Department experience! I want an explanation out of you, and it’d better be a good one!”
There was a deafening silence in the car for a moment. The thin man moved himself off my lap, then sat there looking at me with the heartbroken eyes of a friendly dog that had just been kicked for something which wasn’t really its fault.
“Mr. Ambassador, you can’t imagine how sorry we all are, but if we hadn’t gotten you away from the spaceport and to the Embassy at once, we would all have been much sorrier.”
“Somebody here gunnin’ for the Ambassador?” Hoddy demanded sharply.
“Oh, no! I hadn’t even thought of that,” the thin man almost gibbered. “But your presence at the Embassy is of immediate and urgent necessity. You have no idea of the state into which things have gotten. … Oh, pardon me, Mr. Ambassador. I am Gilbert W. Thrombley, your chargé d’affaires.” I shook hands with him. “And Mr. Benito Gomez, the Secretary of the Embassy.” I shook hands with him, too, and started to introduce Mr. Hoddy Ringo.
Hoddy, however, had turned to look out the rear window; immediately, he gave a yelp.
“We got a tail, boss! Two of them! Look back there!”
There were two black eight-passenger aircars, of the same model, whizzing after us, making an obvious effort to overtake us. The chauffeur cursed and fired his auxiliary jets, then his rocket-booster.
Immediately, black rocket-fuel puffs shot away from the pursuing aircars.
Hoddy turned in his seat, cranked open a porthole-slit in the window, and poked one of his eleven-mm’s out, letting the whole clip go. Thrombley and Gomez slid down onto the floor, and both began trying to drag me down with them, imploring me not to expose myself.
As far as I could see, there was nothing to expose myself to. The other cars kept coming, but neither of them were firing at us. There was also no indication that Hoddy’s salvo had had any effect on them. Our chauffeur went into a perfect frenzy of twisting and dodging, at the same time using his radiophone to tell somebody to get the goddamn gate open in a hurry. I saw the blue skies and green plains of New Texas replacing one another above, under, in front of and behind us. Then the car set down on a broad stretch of concrete, the wings were retracted, and we went whizzing down a city street.
We whizzed down a number of streets. We cut corners on two wheels, and on one wheel, and, I was prepared to swear, on no wheels. A couple of times, with the wings retracted, we actually jetted into the air and jumped over vehicles in front of us, landing again with bone-shaking jolts. Then we made an abrupt turn and shot in under a concrete arch, and a big door banged shut behind us, and we stopped, in the middle of a wide patio, the front of the car a few inches short of a fountain. Four or five people, in diplomatic striped trousers, local dress and the uniform of the Space Marines, came running over.
Thrombley pulled himself erect and half-climbed, half-fell, out of the car. Gomez got out on the other side with Hoddy; I climbed out after Thrombley.
A tall, sandy-haired man in the uniform of the Space Navy came over.
“What the devil’s the matter, Thrombley?” he demanded. Then, seeing me, he gave me as much of a salute as a naval officer will ever bestow on anybody in civilian clothes.
“Mr. Silk?” He looked at my costume and the pistols on my belt in well-bred concealment of surprise. “I’m your military attaché, Stonehenge; Space-Commander, Space Navy.”
I noticed that Hoddy’s ears had pricked up, but he wasn’t making any effort to attract Stonehenge’s attention. I shook hands with him, introduced Hoddy, and offered my cigarette case around.
“You seem to have had a hectic trip from the spaceport, Mr. Ambassador. What happened?”
Thrombley began accusing our driver of trying to murder the lot of us. Hoddy brushed him aside and explained:
“Just after we’d took off, two other cars took off after us. We speeded up, and they speeded up, too. Then your fly-boy, here, got fancy. That shook ’em off. Time we got into the city, we’d dropped them. Nice job of driving. Probably saved our lives.”
“Shucks, that wasn’t nothin,’ ” the driver disclaimed. “When you drive for politicians, you’re either good or you’re good and dead.”
“I’m surprised they started so soon,” Stonehenge said. Then he looked around at my fellow-passengers, who seemed to have realized, by now, that they were no longer dangling by their fingernails over the brink of the grave. “But gentlemen, let’s not keep the Ambassador standing out here in the hot sun.”
So we went over the arches at the side of the patio, and were about to sit down when one of the Embassy servants came up, followed by a man in a loose vest and blue Levis and a big hat. He had a pair of automatics in his belt, too.
“I’m Captain Nelson; New Texas Rangers,” he introduced himself. “Which one of you-all is Mr. Stephen Silk?”
I admitted it.
The Ranger pushed back his wide hat and grinned at me.
“I just can’t figure this out,” he said. “You’re in the right place and the right company, but we got a report, from a mighty good source, that you’d been kidnapped at the spaceport by a gang of thugs!”
“A blond source?” I made curving motions with my hands. “I don’t blame her. My efficient and conscientious chargé d’affaires, Mr. Thrombley, felt that I
