Gardner found himself suddenly face-to-face with an Earthman, a man in his sixties, short, stout, prosperous-looking, who smiled genially at him.
“You’re an unfamiliar face. Welcome to Lurion. I’m Tom Steeves.”
“Roy Gardner,” Gardner said, extending a hand to take the plump, slightly clammy one of the older man.
“Just arrived?” Steeves asked.
“Yesterday.”
“For how long?”
“Six months. Or until I’ve sold what I’ve brought. I represent a private trader.”
Steeves chuckled. “You’ve got to be careful here, Gardner. These Lurioni will rob you blind if you don’t watch out. Look at these.”
The older man opened his palm, revealing three flawless-looking sapphires. Gardner bent close over them, uncomfortably aware that he was being asked to pronounce a professional opinion.
“Lovely,” he said finally. “Of course, I’d have to study them closely.”
“Of course they’re lovely,” Steeves said. “Full-blooded beauties. And phony, every one of them.”
“No!”
Steeves smiled benignly. “They’re products of the furnace of Guair bin Netali, and if I hadn’t seen them manufactured myself I wouldn’t believe they were paste. Netali is only
one of the professionals here. Watch out for his work.” Steeves restored the sapphires to his pocket, and patted his capacious stomach. “I’ve been here twenty years, Gardner. I know all the tricks of Lurioni jewel-trading. If you’re unsure, check with me first. You’ll always find me on this corner, every day of the week.”
“Thanks,” Gardner said. “I appreciate your offer. I may need some help until I know the ropes.”
He chatted with Steeves a while longer, then moved on through the bourse. He spent most of the morning investigating, chatting with the other Earthmen, learning the angles, finding out who was trustworthy and who was not. By noon, Gardner had met and exchanged greetings with several dozen fellow Earthmen. He had had a hurry-up hypno-course in the technique of jewel trading, but now he was getting a practical course in professional argot and mannerisms.
At half past noon, he found himself in the company of two Earthmen and an Ariagonid who invited him to join them for lunch. Gardner accepted; they ate at a small Ariagonid-operated restaurant a block from the exchange, where the food was downright splendid compared with the usual Lurioni slops. During the course of dinner, Gardner consummated his first deal, unloading a ruby for a good price.
“Payable in Terran currency,” he specified.
The Ariagonid, who was the purchaser, hemmed and hawed and stroked his purple wattles; the conversion rate would favor him if payment were made in his own currency. But Gardner remained adamant, whittling the purchase price down a little to ease the pressure on the Ariagonid, and the deal was closed.
“I will register the currency this afternoon,” the Ariagonid promised. “By tonight you will deliver my gem?”
“Fair enough,” Gardner said.
Glancing quickly at his two fellow Earthmen, Gardner knew he had struck a good deal. He was pleased at his bargaining success, though he knew all too well that he was simply playing out a game against time; the price he got for the jewels was an irrelevancy. All that mattered was the need to have some sort of gainful employ until the time came to leave Lurion.
At the end of the day, Gardner returned to his hotel, footsore and hoarse, but secure in the knowledge that he had firmly established his new identity. He had haggled and bought and sold most convincingly, he thought. If any observers had been trailing him, they could not fail to believe that he was a legitimate merchant of precious and semiprecious stones, nothing more.
When evening came, he remained in the vicinity of his hotel, taking special care to get indoors before the hour grew late. His life was far too precious to the project to chance it on the streets in so dangerous a city at night.
There was a bistro opposite the hotel; he spent the hours after dinner there, as he might be expected to do, sipping judicious quantities of khall and eyeing the passing crowd. Later at night, when the streets began to empty out and the neighborhood became more dangerous, Gardner would stroll back to the hotel. For a twenty-segment piece he could buy admission to the orthicon room, where a gay kaleidoscope whirled endlessly to the stupified delight of an eager audience. It was a harmless enough diversion, especially if you kept your eyes off the screen and watched with interest the efficient tactics of the numerous pickpockets moving through the room. Around eleven each night, Gardner would retire to his own room, read for a while, and go to sleep.
It was a lonely life.
On the third day, when Gardner was beginning to get bored with the routine, there was a call, late one night, from Smee.
“I just wanted to let you know that I’m leaving for Continent East tomorrow,” Smee said.
“Fine. Drop me a postcard or something when you get there.”
“How has it been, so far?”
“No complaints,” Gardner said. “You like Lurion?”
“It has its points of interest.”
“Drinking much?” Smee asked next.
“A nip or two of khall before bedtime. It helps to relax me.”
“I’m sure it does,” Smee said thoughtfully. “Well, be seeing you in a few weeks.”
“Yes. A few weeks.”
Gardner hung up the phone and emerged from the curtained alcove. One of the,ubiquitous Lurioni houseboys was staring at him quizzically. There was no privacy to be had at the telephone, of course. But Gardner was certain he had said nothing to Smee that might arouse the anxiety of a spy.
He was pleased that Smee was leaving, at any rate. He had been worried that so long as he stayed here, the little man might grow increasingly reckless. Just because he had survived six months in this city, he wouldn’t necessarily be immune to a policeman’s truncheon or the knife of a Lurioni delinquent.
The trouble with the project, Gardner thought, was that every man was indispensable. Five generators was the minimum, and one member of the team put out of commission would snarl the entire enterprise. Perhaps three or four or a dozen five-man teams would have to be sent out before the entire necessary complement could be assembled on Lurion at the same time.
The first four days had gone along smoothly enough for Gardner: up early, out to the exchange, mingle with the jewel traders, buy and sell; then back to the hotel, kill the evening in loneliness, get to sleep. It was not an exciting routine, or even a pleasant one, but it was one that he could endure. He resisted any attempt of the Earther jewel traders to form after-hours friendships with him. They were all men condemned to die at his hand, and he knew he could not allow himself to become intimate with any of them. The job was hard enough to shoulder as it was.
As he saw it, he would go along, living this way for a while. In a few days Weegan would arrive, and then Leopold, and finally Damon Archer. Then, if all were still going well, they would perform their dreadful task and leave.
But on the morning of the fourth day he saw the girl, and from then on he knew that there would be complications, much as he wanted to avoid them.
She was going out, just as Gardner arrived in the lobby. She was an Earthgirl, and she walked with a cheerful, determined stride. Gardner froze, watching her skip down the steps of the hotel and lose herself in the rapidly-moving crowd.