The store had a back apartment with a living room, bedroom, and kitchen. In one of the closets, Barrent found a badly made suit of Citizen black, into which he changed. He took the girl’s weapon from the pocket of his prison ship uniform, weighed it in his hand for a moment, then put it into a pocket of his new suit. He left the store and found his way back to the Victim’s Protective Society.
The door was still open, and the three ragged men were still sitting on the bench. They weren’t laughing now. Their long wait seemed to have tired them. At the other end of the room, Mr. Frendlyer was seated behind his desk, reading through a thick pile of papers. There was no sign of the girl.
Barrent walked to the desk, and Frendlyer stood up to greet him.
“My congratulations!” Frendlyer said. “Dear fellow, my very warmest congratulations. That was a splendid bit of shooting. And in motion, too!”
“Thank you,” Barrent said. “The reason I came back here—”
“I know why,” Frendlyer said. “You wished to be advised of your rights and obligations as a Free Citizen. What could be more natural? If you take a seat on that bench, I’ll be with you in—”
“I didn’t come here for that,” Barrent said. “I want to find out about my rights and obligations, of course. But right now, I want to find that girl.”
“Girl?”
“She was sitting on the bench when I came in. She was the one who gave me the gun.”
Mr. Frendlyer looked astonished. “Citizen, you must be laboring under a misapprehension. There has been no woman in this office all day.”
“She was sitting on the bench near those three men. A very attractive dark-haired girl. You must have noticed her.”
“I would certainly have noticed her if she had been here,” Frendlyer said, winking. “But as I said before, no woman has entered these premises today.”
Barrent glared at him and pulled the gun out of his pocket. “In that case, how did I get this?”
“I lent it to you,” Frendlyer said. “I’m glad you were able to use it successfully, but now I would appreciate its return.”
“You’re lying,” Barrent said, taking a firm grip on the weapon. “Let’s ask those men.”
He walked over to the bench with Frendlyer close behind him. He caught the attention of the man who had been sitting nearest the girl and asked him, “Where did the girl go?”
The man lifted a sullen, unshaven face and said, “What girl you talking about, Citizen?”
“The one who was sitting right here.”
“I didn’t notice nobody. Rafeel, you see a female on this bench?”
“Not me,” Rafeel said. “And I been sitting here continuous since ten this morning.”
“I didn’t see her neither,” the third man said. “And I got sharp eyes.”
Barrent turned back to Frendlyer. “Why are you lying to me?”
“I’ve told you the simple truth,” Frendlyer said. “There has been no girl in here all day. I lent you the gun, as is my privilege as President of the Victim’s Protective Society. I would now appreciate its return.”
“No,” Barrent said. “I’m keeping the gun until I find the girl.”
“That might not be wise,” Frendlyer said. He hastily added, “Thievery, I mean, is not condoned under these circumstances.”
“I’ll take my chances on that,” Barrent said. He turned and left the Victim’s Protective Society.
Chapter Five
Barrent needed time to recuperate from his violent entry into Omegan life. Starting from the helpless state of a newborn, he had moved through murder to the ownership of an antidote shop. From a forgotten past on a planet called Earth, he had been catapulted into a dubious present in a world full of criminals. He had gotten a glimpse of a complex class structure, and a hint of an institutionalized program of murder. He had discovered in himself a certain measure of self-reliance, and a surprising quickness with a gun. He knew there was a great deal more to find out about Omega, Earth, and himself. He hoped he would live long enough to make the necessary discoveries.
First things first. He had to earn a living. To do so, he had to find out about poisons and antidotes.
He moved into the apartment in back of his store and began reading the books left by the late Hadji Draken.
The literature on poisons was fascinating. There were the vegetable poisons known on Earth, such as hellebore, setterwort, deadly nightshade, and the yew tree. He learned about the action of hemlock—its preliminary intoxication and its final convulsions. There was prussic acid poisoning from almonds and digitalin poisoning from purple foxglove. There was the awesome efficiency of wolfsbane with its deadly store of aconite. There were the fungi such as the amanita toadstools and fly agaric, not to mention the purely Omegan vegetable poisons like redcup, flowering lily, and amortalis.
But the vegetable poisons, although dismayingly numerous, were only one part of his studies. He had to consider the animals of Earth, sea, and air, the several species of deadly spiders, the snakes, scorpions, and giant wasps. There was an imposing array of metallic poisons such as arsenic, mercury, and bismuth. There were the commoner corrosives—nitric, hydrochloric, phosphoric, and sulphuric acid. And there were the poisons distilled or extracted from various sources, among which were strychnine, formic acid, hyoscyamine, and belladonna.
Each of the poisons had one or more antidotes listed; but those complicated, cautiously worded formulas, Barrent suspected, were frequently unsuccessful. To make matters more difficult, the efficacy of an antidote seemed to depend upon a correct diagnosis of the poisoning agent. And too often the symptoms produced by one poison resembled those of another.
Barrent pondered these problems while he studied his books. In the meantime, with considerable nervousness, he served his first customers.
He found that many of his fears were ungrounded. In spite of the dozens of lethal substances recommended by the Poison Institute, most poisoners stuck single-mindedly to arsenic or strychnine. They were cheap, sure, and very painful. Prussic acid had a readily discernible odor, mercury was difficult to introduce into the system, and the corrosives, although gratifyingly spectacular, were dangerous to the user. Wolfsbane and fly agaric were excellent, of course; deadly nightshade could not be discounted, and the amanita toadstool had its own macabre charm. But these were the poisons of an older, more leisurely age. The impatient younger generation—and especially the women, who made up nearly 90 per cent of the poisoners on Omega—were satisfied with plain arsenic or strychnine, as the occasion and opportunity demanded.
Omegan women were conservatives. They simply weren’t interested in the never-ending refinements of the poisoner’s art. Means didn’t interest them; only ends, as quickly and as cheaply as possible. Omegan women were noted for their common sense. Although the eager theoreticians at the Poison Institute tried to sell dubious mixtures of Contact Poison or Three Day Mold, and worked hard to put across complex, haywire schemes involving wasps, concealed needles, and double glasses, they found few takers among women. Simple arsenic and fast-acting strychnine continued to be the mainstays of the poison trade.
This quite naturally simplified Barrent’s work. His remedies—immediate regurgitation, lavage, neutralizing agent—were easy enough to master.
He encountered some difficulty with men who refused to believe they had been poisoned by anything so commonplace as arsenic or strychnine. For those cases, Barrent prescribed a variety of roots, herbs, twigs, leaves, and a minute homeopathic dose of poison. But he invariably preceded these with regurgitation, lavage, and neutralizing agent.