Breaugh said quickly, "That's the key word-'enterprise.' The Chateau d'lf is not a natural phenomenon; it's a man-created object, idea, process-whatever it is. The motive behind it is a human motive-probably money."
"What else?" asked Zaer whimsically. Breaugh raised his black eyebrows high.
"Oh, you never know. Now, it can't be a criminal enterprise, otherwise the ACP would be swarming all over it"
Ditmar leaned back, swung Breaugh a half-mocking look. "The Agency of Crime Prevention can't move unless there's an offense, unless someone signs a complaint. If there's no overt offense, no complaint the law can't move."
Breaugh made an impatient gesture. "Very true. But that's a side issue to the idea I was trying to develop." Ditmar grinned. "Sorry. Go on."
"What are the motives which prompt men to new enterprises? First, money, which in a sense comprises, includes, all of the other motives too. But for the sake of clarity, call this first, the desire for money, an end in itself. Second, there's the will for power. Subdivide that last into, say, the crusading instinct and call it a desire for unlimited sexual opportunity. Power over women. Then third, curiosity, the desire to know. Fourth, the enterprise for its own sake, as a diversion. Like a millionaire's race horses. Fifth, philanthropy. Any more?"
"Covers it," said Zaer.
"Possibly the urge for security, such as the Egyptian pyramids," suggested Janniver.
"I think that's the fundamental motive behind the first category, the lust for money."
"Artistic spirit, creativeness."
"Oh, far-fetched, I should say."
"Exhibitionism," Ditmar put forward.
"Equally far-fetched."
"I disagree. A theatrical performance is based solely and exclusively, from the standpoint of the actors, upon their mania for exhibitionism."
Breaugh shrugged. "You're probably right"
"Religious movements, missions."
"Lump that under the will to administer power."
"It sticks out at the edges."
"Not far. ... That all? Good. What does it give us? Anything suggestive?"
"The Chateau d'lf!" mused Janniver. "It still sounds like an unnecessarily florid money-making scheme."
"It's not philanthropy-at least superficially," said Mario. "But probably we could fabricate situations that would cover any of your cases."
Ditmar made an impatient gesture. 'Talk's useless. What good is it? Not any of us know for sure. Suppose it's a plot to blow up the city?"
Breaugh said coolly, "I appoint you a committee of one, Ditmar, to investigate and report."
Ditmar laughed sourly. "I'd be glad to. But I've got a better idea. Let's roll the dice. Low man applies to the Chateau d'lf - financed by the remaining four."
Breaugh nodded. "Suits me. I'll roll with you."
Ditmar looked around the table.
"What's it cost?" asked Zaer.
Ditmar shook his head. "I've no idea. Probably comes high."
Zaer frowned, moved uneasily in his seat "Set a limit of two thousand dollars per capita."
"Good, so far as I'm concerned. Janniver?"
The tall man with the short yellow hair hesitated. "Yes, I'll roll. I've nothing to lose."
"Mario?"
"Suits me."
Ditmar took up the dice box, cupped it with his hand, rattled the dice. "The rules are for poker dice. One throw, ace high. In other words, a pair of aces beats a pair of sixes. Straight comes between three of a kind and a full house. That suit everybody?... Who wants to roll first?"
"Go ahead, shoot," said Mario mildly. Ditmar shook, shook, shook, turned the dice out. Five bodies leaned forward, five pair of eyes followed the whirling cubes. They clattered down the table, clanged against a highball glass, came to rest
"Looks like three fives," said Ditmar. "Well, that's medium good."
Mario, sitting on his left, picked up the box, tossed the dice in, shook, threw. He granted. A two, a three, a four, a five, a four. "Pair of fours. Ouch."
Breaugh threw silently. "Three aces."
Janniver threw. 'Two pair. Deuces and threes."
Zaer, a little pale, picked up the dice. He flashed a glance at Mario. "Pair of fours to beat." He shook the dice, shook-then threw with a sudden flourish. Clang, clatter among the glasses. Five pairs of eyes looked. Ace, deuce, three, six, deuce.
"Pair of deuces."
Zaer threw himself back with a tight grin. "Well, I'm game. I'll go. It's suppose to be an adventure. Of course they don't say whether you come out alive or not."
"You should be delighted," said Breaugh, stuffing tobacco in his pipe. "After all it's our money that's buying you this mysterious thrill."
Zaer made a helpless gesture with both hands. "Where do I go? What do I do?" He looked at Ditmar. "Where do I get this treatment?"
"I don't know," said Ditmar. "I'll ask at the studio. Somebody knows somebody who's been there. Tomorrow about this time Til have the details, as much as I can pick up, at any rate."
Now came a moment of silence - a silence combined of several peculiar qualities. Each of the five contributed a component, but which the wariness, which the fear, which the quiet satisfaction, it was impossible to say.
Breaugh set down his glass. "Well, Zaer, what do you think? Ready for the tight-rope or the tiger?"
"Better take a pair of brass knuckles or a ring-Sash," said Ditmar with a grin.
Zaer glanced around the circle of eyes, laughed ruefully. "The interest you take in me is flattering."
"We want a full report. We want you to come out alive."
Zaer said, "I want to come out alive too. Who's going to stake me to the smelling salts and adrenalin, in case the adventure gets really adventurous?"
"Oh, you look fit enough," said Breaugh. He rose to his feet. "I've got to feed my cats. There's the adventure in my life-taking care of seven cats. Quite a futile existence. The cats love it." He gave a sardonic snort "We're living a life men have dreamed of living ever since they first dreamed. Food, leisure, freedom. We don't know when we're well off."
CHAPTER II
Changed Man
Zaer was scared. He held his arms tight against his body, and his grin, while wide and ready as ever, was a half-nervous grimace, twisted off to the side. He made no bones about his apprehension, and sat in his chair on the terrace like a prizefighter waiting for the gong.
Janniver watched him solemnly, drinking beer. "Maybe the idea of the Chateau d'lf is adventure enough."
" 'What is adventure?' asked jesting Zaer, and did not stay for the answer," said Breaugh, eyes twinkling. He loaded his pipe.
"Adventure is just another name for having the daylights scared out of you and living to tell about it," said Zaer wretchedly.
Mario laughed. "If you never show up again, well know it wasn't a true adventure."
Breaugh craned his neck around. "Where's Ditmar? He's the man with all the information."
"Here he comes," said Zaer. "I feel like a prisoner."
"Oh, the devil!" said Breaugh. "You don't need to go through with it if you don't want to. After all, it's just a lark. No matter of life or death."
Zaer shook his head. "No, I'll! try her on."
Ditmar pulled up a chair, punched the service button, ordered beer. Without preamble he said, "It costs eight thousand. It costs you eight thousand, that is. There's two levels.
Type A costs ten million; Type B, ten thousand, but they'll take eight. Needless to say, none of us can go two and a half million, so you're signed up on the Type B schedule."