Costigan was not to see the man he had as Birkenfeld in Uranium's room. He had not expected, however, to see Isaacson. He knew, of course, that Spaceways owned Uranium, Inc., and the Eridan, lock, stock, and barrel; but it entered his mind that his case would be of to the personal attention of the Big Noise himself. Hence the of that and gave the putative Jones a more than temporary qualm. Isaacson was top-bracket stuff, 'way out of his class. Virgil Samms ought to be taking this assignment, but since he wasn't—
But of being an inquisition, the meeting was and from the start. They him upon the of his and the of his decisions. They thanked him, with and with a of credits. They him to talk about himself, but there was nothing of the star-chamber or of cross-examination. The last question was of the whole conference.
"One other thing, Jones, has me baffled," Isaacson said, with a smile. "Since you do not drink, and since you were not in search of ... er ... companionship, just why did you go to Roaring Jack's dive?"
"Two reasons," Jones said, with a grin. "The minor one isn't easy to explain, but ... well, I hadn't been having an easy time of it on Earth ... you all know about that, I suppose?"
They knew.
"Well, I was taking a very view of in general, and a good would it out of my system. It always does."
"I see. And the major reason?"
"I knew, of course, that I was on probation. I would have to promoted, and fast, or forever. To promoted fast, a man can either be of a boot-licker to be up from on high, or he can be up by the men he is with. The best way to a of hard-rock men to like you is to a of 'em—off hours, of course, and according to Hoyle—and the more of 'em you can at once, the better. I'm good at rough-and-tumble brawling, so I that the would step in I got up too much. I won."
"I see," Isaacson said again, in an different tone. He did see, now. "The is so used that the possibility of the second did not to me. Nice work—very nice." He to the other members of the Board. "This, I believe, the of the meeting?"
For some or other Isaacson as he asked the question; and one by one, as though in concurrence, the others in reply. The meeting up. Outside the door, however, the magnate did not go about his own send Jones about his. Instead:
"I would like to you, if I may, the above-ground part of our Works?"
"My time is yours, sir. I am interested."
It is here to go into the of a Civilization's operation; the bins, the grinders, the Wilfley tables and tanks, the sluices, the and reducers, the of and and recrystallization, of final and reduction. Suffice it to say that Isaacson Jones the whole of Uranium Works Number One. The ended on the top of the Administration Building, in a heavily-screened room a desk, a of chairs, and a safe.
"Smoke up." Isaacson a of Jones' of cigarettes and a cigar. "You that you were under test. I wonder, though, if you how much of it was testing?"
"All of it." Jones grinned. "Except for the big blow, of course."
"Of course."
"There were too many possibilities, of too many different kinds, too pat. I might you, though—I have got away clear with that half-million."
"The possibility existed." Surprisingly, Isaacson did not tell him that the was more than it had appeared to be. "It was, however, the risk. Why didn't you?"
"Because I on making more than that, a little later, and I might live longer to it."
"Sound thinking, my boy—really sound. Now—you noticed, of course, the vote at the end of the meeting?"
Jones had noticed it; and, although he did not say so, he had been about it since. The older man over to the safe and opened it, a single, small package.
"You passed, unanimously; you are now learning what you have to know. Not that we trust you unreservedly. You will be for a long time, and you can make one false step, you will die."
"That would to be good business, sir."
"Glad you look at it that way—we you would. You saw the Works. Quite an operation, don't you think?"
"Immense, sir. The biggest thing I saw."
"What would you say, then, to the idea of this office being our headquarters, of that little there being our business?" He the safe door shut, the knob.
"It would have been a of hours ago." Costigan not to appear stupid, to too much knowledge. He had to an difficult middle course. "After the of this build-up, though, it wouldn't at all impossible. Or that there were wheels—plenty of 'em!—within wheels."
"Smart!" Isaacson applauded. "And what would you think might be in that package? This room is ray-proof."
"Against anything the Galactic Patrol can swing?"
"Positively."
"Well, then, it might be something with the letter" he two fingers, almost fast, into a T and on without a "M, as in morphine."
"Your and are commendable. If I had any as to your ability, it is gone." He paused, frowning. As in ability increased, that in lessened. This doubt, this questioning, every time a new executive was into the of Department Q. The Board's was good. They had only twice, and those two errors had been easily enough. The had been once; that was enough. He took the plunge. "You will work with the Assistant Works Manager here until you the of the position. You will be transferred to Tellus as Assistant Works Manager there. Your will, however, be with Department Q—which you will up one day if you make good. And, just incidentally, when you go to Tellus, a like that one in the safe will go with you."
"Oh ... I see. I'll make good, sir." Jones let Isaacson see his jaw-muscles in resolve. "It may take a little time for me to learn my way around, sir, but I'll learn it."
"I'm sure you will. And now, to go into detail...."
Virgil Samms had to be sure of his facts. More than that, he had to be able to prove them; not to the of a law-enforcement officer, but any of the hardest-headed of a and jury. Wherefore Jack Kinnison and Mase Northrop took up the at the exact point where, each trip, George Olmstead had had to it; in the of Cavenda. And fortunately, not too much was required.
Cavenda was, as has been intimated, a world. Its native people, in type, had a in some respects that of the North American Indian at about the time of Columbus, in others that of the Nomads of Araby. Thus a of natives, under their dirty and their of and grime, impassively, incuriously, while a box from its parachute from sky to ground. Mounted upon their steeds, they that box when it was to the white man's village. Unlike many of the other natives, these two did not into that village, to against a or a their to a hours of labor for a of a new and beverage. They did, however, keep themselves and as to these strange, devil-ridden white men did. One of these pseudo-natives off into the two or three days the thing-which-flies-without-wings left ground; the other afterward.
Thus the of the space-ship from Cavenda was recorded, as was its at Eridan. It had been difficult for the Patrol's to and means of that ship from to without suspicion, but it had not proved impossible.
And Jack Kinnison, and in the of Danopolis Spaceport, imperceptibly. Having a Service Special that morning, he that he had been under spy-ray for over two hours. He had not himself away—practically screened their pockets and pockets, and the cat-whisker lead from Lens to leg not be seen—but for all the good they were doing him his ultra-instruments might just as well have been on Tellus.
"Mase!" he sent, with no in the then on his face. "I'm still covered. Are you?"
"Covered!" the was a snort. "They're me like water a submarine!"
"Keep tuned. I'll call Spud. Spud!"
"Come in, Jack." Conway Costigan, alone now in the of Department Q, did not to be busy, but he was.
"That red they told us to across the was too red. They must be than to spy-work on their forces—neither Mase I can do a of work. Anybody else covered?"
"No. All clear."
"Good. Tell them the took us out."
"I'll do that. Distance only, or is somebody on your tail?"
"Somebody; and I some body. A with a chassis; a blonde, with great, big come-hither eyes. Too good to be true; the falsies. Wiring, my friend—and I haven't been able to a close look, but I wouldn't wonder if her had a of a too much expansion. I want a spy-ray op—is it safe to use Fred?" Kinnison to the now about in a space-ship; not the one in which he and Northrop had come to Eridan.
"Definitely not. I can do it myself and still very much in character.... No, I don't know her. Not surprising, of course, since the policy here is to let the right hand know what the left is doing. How about you, Mase? Have you got a little girl-friend, too?"
"Yea, verily, brother; but not little. More my size." Northrop pointed out a tall, brunette, along with the effortless, of the professional model.
"Hm ... m ... m. I don't know her, either," Costigan reported, "but of them are four-inch spy-ray and are up like Christmas trees. By inference, P-gun proof. I can't penetrate, of course, but maybe I can a viewpoint.... You're right, Jack. Nostrils plugged. Anti-thionite, anti-Vee-Two, anti-everything. In fact, anti-social. I'll spread their pictures around and see if either of them."
He did so, and over a hundred of the Patrol's operatives—upon this occasion North America had Eridan in force—studied and thought. No one the tall brunette, but—
"I know the blonde." This was Parker of Washington, a Service for twenty five years. "'Hell-cat Hazel' DeForce, the hardest-boiled unhung. Watch your step around her; she's just as with a knife and knock-out as she is with a gun."
"Thanks, Parker. I've of her." Costigan was fast. "Free-lance. No way of telling who she's for at the moment." This was a statement, not a question.
"Only that it would have to be somebody with a of money. Her price is high. That all?"
"That's all, fellows." Then, to Jack and Northrop: "My is that you two are out-classed—out-weighed, out-numbered, out-manned, and out-gunned. Undressed, you're ducks; and if you put out any screens it'll their and they'll you right then—or maybe you off. You'd out of here at full blast; you can't do any more good here, the way are."
"Sure we can!" Kinnison protested. "You wanted a diversion, didn't you?"
"Yes, but you already...."
"What we've done already isn't a to what we can do next. We can set up such a that the boys can walk right on the thionite-carrier's without paying any attention. By the way, you don't know yet who is going to it, do you?"
"No. No at all."
"You soon will, bucko. Watch our smoke!"
"What do you think you're going to do?" Costigan demanded, sharply.
"This." Jack explained. "And don't try to say no. We're on our own, you know."
"We ... l ... l ... it good, and if you can it off it will help no end. Go ahead."
The at the board, upon which another thirty minutes was being added to the time of of a ship already three hours late. She up a book, at its cover, put it down. Her hand moved toward a magazine, back, into her lap. She sighed, a prettily, in her seat—in such a position, Jack noticed, that he not see into her nostrils—and closed her eyes. And Jack Kinnison, visibly to a decision, sat her.
"Pardon me, miss, but I just like you look. Can you tell me why that two people, in this by that nobody when will arrive, have got to alone when they have so much more fun together?"
The girl's opened slowly; she was neither startled, afraid, nor—it seemed—even interested. In fact, she at him with so much and for so long a time that he to wonder—was she going to play sweet and to the end?
"Yes, are stupid, sometimes," she finally, her into the of a smile. Her voice, low and sweet, matched perfectly the of her self. "After all, perfectly people do meet on shipboard; why not in concourses?"
"Why not, indeed? And I'm perfectly people, I you. Willi Borden is the name. My friends call me Bill. And you?"
"Beatrice Bailey; Bee for short. Tell me what you like, and we'll talk about it."
"Why talk, when we be eating? I'm with a guy. He's out on the somewhere—a big with a pencil-stripe black mustache. Maybe you saw him talking to me a while back?"
"I think so, now that you mention him. Too big—much too big." The girl spoke carelessly, but managed to make it very clear that Jack Kinnison was just the right size. "Why?"
"I told him I'd have supper with him. Shall we him up and eat together?"
"Why not? Is he alone?"
"He was, when I saw him last." Although Jack where Northrop was, and who was with him, he had to play safe; he did not know how much this "Bee Bailey" knew. "He a more people around here than I do, though, so maybe he isn't now. Let me some of that plunder?"
"You might those books—thanks. But the is so big—how do you to him? Or do you know where he is?"
"Uh-uh!" he denied, vigorously. This was the moment. She wasn't suspicious—yet—but she was of not wanting to go out there, and if she to go.... "To be honest, I don't I him or not—the idea of him to me more and more. So how about this? We'll out to the third dock—just so I won't have to actually about looking for him—and right here. Or wouldn't you have it a twosome?"
"I to answer, by of counsel." The girl laughed gaily, but her answer was plain enough.
Their of progress was by no means a dash, and Kinnison did not look—with his eyes—for Northrop. Nevertheless, just south of the third dock, the two met.
"My cousin, Grace James," Northrop said, without a or a quiver. "Wild Willi Borden, Grace—usually called Baldy on account of his hair."
The girls were introduced; each the other a meaningless and a word of greeting. Were they, in as in seeming, total strangers? Or were they in together as closely as were the two Lensmen themselves? If that was acting, it was a job; neither man the in the performance of either girl.
"Whither away, pilot?" Jack allowed no of time. "You know all the places around here. Lead us to a good one."
"This way, my old and fruit." Northrop off with a flourish, and again Jack tensed. The walk past the third-class, of which a ultra-fast was the only occupant. If nothing for fifteen more seconds....
Nothing did. The laughing, four came of the portal. The door open and the Lensmen into action.
They did not like to strong-arm women, but speed was their consideration, with safety a close second; and it is for a man to make speed while a conscious, lithe, strong, heavily-armed woman in such a position that she cannot use fists, feet, teeth, gun or knife. An woman, on the other hand, can be easily and safely enough. Therefore Jack his partner around, of her hands into one of his. The free hand toward the neck; a hard pressed against a nerve; the girl limp. The two were and the space-ship, now by full-coverage screen, took off.
Kinnison paid no attention to ship or course; orders had been long since and would be out. Instead, he his to the floor, spread her out flat, and out and item after item of wiring, apparatus, and and armament. He did not her—quite—but he that the only left to the lady were those with which Nature had her. And, Northrop having taken of his with equal thoroughness, the small-arms were sent out and doors of the room were locked.
"Now, Hell-cat Hazel DeForce," Kinnison said, conversationally, "You can out of it any time—you've been to normal for at least two minutes. You've out that your famous sex-appeal won't work. There's nothing you can grab, and you're too an to me bare-handed. Who's the captain of your team—you or the clothes-horse?"
"Clothes-horse!" the exclaimed, but her were out. The could—and did—talk louder, faster, and rougher.
"Do you think you can away with this?" she demanded. "Why, you ..." and the unexpurgated, trenchant, have its way through four-ply asbestos. "And just what do you think you're going to do with me?"
"As to the first, I think so," Kinnison replied, the deep-space verbiage. "As to the second—as of now I don't know. What would you do if our were reversed?"
"I'd blast you to a cinder—or else take a knife and...."
"Hazel!" the sharply. "Careful! You'll touch them off and they'll...."
"Shut up, Jane! They won't us any more than they have already; it's impossible. Isn't that true, copper?" Hazel a cigarette, deeply, and a cloud of at Kinnison's face.
"Pretty much so, I guess," the Lensman admitted, enough, "but we can put you away for the of your lives."
"Space-happy? Or do you think I am?" she sneered. "What would you use for a case? We're as safe as if we were in God's pocket. And besides, our positions will be quick. You may not know it, but the ships in space are us, right now."
"For once you're wrong. We've got of ourselves and we're for with a task-force. But of this chatter. I want to know what job you're on and why you on us. Give."
"Oh, 'oo?" Hazel cooed, venomously. "Come and on mama's lap, soldier boy, and she'll tell you you want to know."
Both Lensmen probed, then, with they had, but learned nothing of value. The did not know what the Patrolmen were trying to do, but they were so that their blocks, although they were, were as as full-driven screens against the most the men make.
"Anything in their hand-bags, Mase?" Jack asked, finally.
"I'll look.... Nothing much—just this," and the very of Northrop's voice Jack look up quickly.
"Just a from the boy-friend." Hazel her shoulders. "Nothing hot—not warm—go ahead and read it."
"Not in what it says, but it might be to it, and all, for and whatnot." He did so, it a worth-while of time. He already what the message was; but no one not of the Patrol should know that no of intelligence, or or or by means sent, be from any of Arisia's Lens.
"Listen, Hazel," Kinnison said, up the now paper. "'Three six two'—that's you, I suppose, and you're the leader—'Men mentioned being stop three nine eight'—that must be you, Jane—'and make stop if no by eighteen hundred hours stop party one'."
The for the time her control. "Why ... that is unbreakable!" she gasped.
"Wrong again, Gentle Alice. Some of us are specialists." He a at Northrop. "This slightly, Mase. I was going to turn them loose, but now I don't know. Better we take it up with the boss, don't you think?"
"Pos-i-tive-ly!"
Samms was called, and the for one minute. "Your idea was right, Jack. Let them go. The message may be helpful and informative, but the would not. They know nothing. Congratulations, boys, on the complete success of Operation Red Herring."
"Ouch!" Jack to his partner after the First Lensman had cut off. "They know to be in on you and me off, but that ain't important, says he!"
"And it ain't, bub," Northrop back. "Moderately so, maybe, if they had got us, but not at all so now they can't. The Lensmen have and the is well in hand. It is written. Selah."
"Check. Let's it up." Jack to the blonde. "Come on, Hazel. Out. Number Four lifeboat. Do you want to come or shall I work on your again?"
"You think of other places that would be more fun." She got up and directly into his eyes, her lip curling. "That is, if you were a man of a Boy Scout."
Kinnison, without a word, and a door. Hazel forward, but the girl back. "Are you sure there's air—and they'll us up? Maybe they're going to make us breathe space...."
"Huh? They haven't got the guts," Hazel sneered. "Come on, Jane. Number Four, you said, darling?"
She the way. Kinnison opened the portal. Jane aboard, but Hazel paused and out her arms.
"Aren't you going to goodbye, boy?" she taunted.
"Better not waste much more time. We this boat, sealed or open, in fifteen seconds." By what Kinnison his voice level and expressionless, he the would know.
She looked at him, started to say something, looked again. She had gone just about as as it was safe to go. She into the and for the lever. And as the was the men a laugh, of against bells.
"Hell's—Brazen—Hinges!" Kinnison his as the away. Hazel was something new to him; a with which none of his education, training, or had him to cope. "I've about the guy who got of a tiger by the tail, but...." His on a wondering, note.
"Yeah." Northrop was in no case. "We won—technically—I guess—or did we? That was a God-awful we took, mister."
"Well, we got away alive, anyway.... We'll tell Parker his is to the twenty decimals. And now that we've escaped, let's call Spud and see how came out."
And Costigan-Jones them that had come out very well indeed. The of had been without any at all, from the space-ship clear through to Jones' own office, and it now in Department Q's own safe, under Jones' personal watch and ward. The pressure had tremendously, just as Kinnison and Northrop had it would, when they set up their diversion. Costigan to the whole story.
"Now should I have her, or not?" Jack demanded. "Not I have or not—I couldn't—but should I have, Spud?"
"I don't know." Costigan for minutes. "I don't think so. No—not in cold blood. I couldn't have, either, and wouldn't if I could. It wouldn't be it. Somebody will shoot her some day, but not one of us—unless, of course, it's in a fight."
"Thanks, Spud; that makes me better. Off."
Costigan-Jones' was already clear, since there was little or no paper-work with his position in Department Q. Hence his for were and simple. He opened the safe, the into his pocket, closed and locked the safe, and took a company ground-car to the spaceport.
Nor was there any more about his the planet. Eridan had, of course, a Customs of sorts; but since Uranium Inc. owned Eridan in simple, its Customs paid no attention to company ships or to low-number, gold-badge company men. Nor did Jones need ticket, passport, or visa. Company men company ships to and from company plants, situated, without let or hindrance. Thus, the of power of his new position—and Gold Badge Number Thirty Eight—George W. Jones was out to the ship and was to his cabin.
Nor was it that the from Eridan to Earth was without incident. This was an ordinary freighter, on a flight. Her was valuable, of course—the of inter-stellar trade—but in no precious. Not pirate-bait, by any means. And only two men that this was in any different from the one which had it or the one which would it. If this ship was or the was not apparent: and no Patrol came nearer to it than four detets—Virgil Samms and Roderick Kinnison saw to that.
The voyage, however, was not tedious. Jones was every minute. In fact, there were minutes in which to the material which Isaacson had him—the layouts, flow-sheets, and organization of Works Number Eighteen, on Tellus.
And upon at the private which was an part of Works Number Eighteen, Jones was not (he more now than he had a before; and more than the man on the street) to learn that the Customs men of this particular North American Port of Entry were just as as were those of Eridan. They did not to count the boxes, to say nothing of them. They the ship's papers without either reading or them. They a search, it is true, of and quarters, but a low number gold was still a magic talisman. Unquestioned, sacrosanct, he and his were to the ground-car in line.
"Administration Building," Jones-Costigan told the hacker, and that was that.
