They thought I’d been to America.
One of the small boys, about eight, came crawling over and started tugging at the bottom hem of my raincoat. His name was Yusuf, I recalled. “Please don’t shoot Melahat,” he pleaded. “Please, Sultan Bey! We all pooled our money and we bought you new clothes. And we even stole some extras from tourists. Don’t shoot Melahat. Please, Sultan Bey!”
Oh, it was a great homecoming. The guard subofficer said, “I told them they better put on a gatekeeper. Serves them right.” And then he stepped close and whispered, “Thanks for the tip about that Crown agent.” And the guards drove off laughing.
I pointed the gun at the gardener. “Your grounds are in terrible shape. Get up right now and fix them.” And he scuttled out like a rocket, followed by his two helpers, both boys. I pointed the gun at the cook. “Get me something to eat and then clean up your kitchen, it’s filthy.” And he scuttled out. I pointed the gun at the head cleaning girl, “Get those rooms dusted! Right now!” And she and two small girls who help her left with speed. And then I pointed the gun at Karagoz, “Your accounts are probably in total disorder. Get me a full accounting by dawn!”
As I walked to my room, I burst out laughing. How different than Voltar.
How good it was to be home!
Here, I was power itself!
On this planet, I could get anything executed, even Heller!
Chapter 9
Melahat had followed me into my room. It is a big place. It has lots of closets. She showed me that my clothes had been replaced and were hanging there. She stood wringing her hands.
“Please,” she begged, “I told you that that girl was no good. After you went to America she just started running around with anybody. She said you hadn’t paid her and she grabbed your clothes and ran off.”
“There’ll be another one in here tomorrow,” I said.
“Yes, Sultan Bey.”
“Put her in that room that used to be used for tools.”
“Yes, Sultan Bey. Are these clothes all right?”
“They probably won’t fit.”
“Yes, Sultan Bey.”
Two small boys rushed in with my baggage and hastened out.
“Tell that cook to bring in some food. Now clear out!”
“Yes, Sultan Bey.”
A serving man and the cook hastened in with a big bowl of hot iskembe corbusi — it’s a heavy soup of tripe and eggs and they often keep it on the back of the stove just in case. There was also lakerda, slices of dried fish. There was a big pitcher of chilled sira, which is fermented grape juice and a platter of baklava, a sweet pastry containing ground walnuts and syrup.
“It’s all we have right now,” the cook quavered. “Nobody said you were arriving!”
“Get to town at dawn,” I reprimanded him, “and get some decent food! And stop putting all the purchase money in your pocket!”
He blanched at the accusation. So I said, “And send in Karagoz!” That really upset him for Karagoz handles the accounts. He and the serving man rushed out.
I sat down at the table and began to eat. It was delicious! What the Gods must dream of — the reward for being mortal.
Karagoz came. “You said I had until dawn to finish the accounts.”
“You’ve stolen and sold all the rugs,” I said.
“Yes, Sultan Bey.” He knew (bleeped) well I had sold them but he sure knew better than to say so.
I had a mouthful of wonderful baklava. I washed it down with the chilled sira. “Add a special requisition to buy rugs for the whole house. The most expensive kind. Even Persian.” Who knew when I might hit another snag on money and would have to sell them again. Recent experience on Voltar had made me prudent.
“Yes, Sultan Bey.”
“And turn in any commission you get to me,” I said.
“Yes, Sultan Bey.”
“And reduce the amount of money you’re spending on staff food. By half. They’re too fat!”
“Yes, Sultan Bey.”
“That is all,” I said, dismissing him with a wave of the sira glass.
He backed out the door.
I sat there grinning. I really knew how to handle people. Psychology is a wonderful thing. A true tool in my line of business.
I could get away with anything on this planet!
And that made me think of Heller.
I bolted the door to my room. I went into the right-hand closet. I pushed the back panel and it slid open. I stepped through into what was really my room.
It was bigger than the one I had just left. It was unknown to the staff. It didn’t show from the outside as it was dug back into the mountain. A secret door at the end of it led right down into the base. Another secret door led to a passage that ended in the archaeological barracks.
I opened a closet. The laugh was on the staff. Here were my real clothes, various costumes of different nationalities. They were all here.
A cupboard disclosed that my makeup kits were intact.
I opened a panel and revealed my guns. They were protected by a device which took moisture and oxygen out of their hiding place. I removed the chambered cartridge and clip from the Colt .45 and put it away. I got out a Beretta which is more my style, really, being easier to hide — and I even have a license for it.
That done, I opened a safe and reviewed my passports. Some were expired in the last year and I made a note to get them renewed. I looked over other identification documents: they were fine.
With a quick inspection, I verified that all my assorted luggage, like suitcases and attache cases, were there.
Great. I was in business.
I went back into the advertised bedroom and changed my clothes, noting I should be more careful and not go around in space insulator boots in public.
I put on a sport shirt with flaming poinsettias, a pair of black pants and some loafers. I looked in the mirror: no movie gangster ever looked more at home.
Now for Heller. I picked up the box and went back into my real room. I unloaded the gear and set it up on a table. Nothing wrong with it from the trip.
I set it all up and then, as an afterthought, brought in the pitcher of sira and a glass.
What was Heller up to?
I turned on the activator-receiver and viewscreen.
I didn’t think I’d need the 831 Relayer as he wasn’t in the ship and must be within ten miles.
And there he was!
Chapter 10
Heller was walking along a dark street.
I wondered what had taken him so long to get into Afyon and then realized that, after the rumor I’d spread, probably nobody at the hangar would give him a ride and he’d had to walk. It was only a few miles, they had probably said in a nasty tone of voice.
I adjusted the viewscreen controls. I found out that by flaring the screen a little bit, I could possibly pick things up as well as Heller could.
The picture was really great quality. Because I could look directly at the peripheral vision area, even though it was a trifle blurry, I could probably see what was going on around him even better than Heller: a matter of my concentrating on it while he was looking at something else. Great.
He wasn’t doing anything. He was just walking along the street. Up ahead of him were a few lights from shop windows. But Afyon is really dead at night and it was at least ten by now.
It gave me time to study the instruction book. I found to my delight that, by pushing a button, the screen split into two screens. You could go on watching the continuing action while you replayed, at any speed you wished, fast or slow or still-framed, on the second screen. And all without interrupting recording. Great. What a brilliant fellow that Spurk had been. Good thing he was dead.