“I want someone stone cold and I don’t give a hoot whether or not he is boxed.”
“We can tend to that.” He fixed his toughest expression which told all and sundry that he’d kilt him a b’ar when he wuz only three. Then he said, “For fifty thousand.”
Emitting a deep sigh, Mowry stood up, ambled toward the door. “Live long!”
“Come back!” Skriva shot to his feet, waved urgently.
Arhava had the appalled look of someone suddenly cut out of a rich uncle’s will. Gurd sucked his teeth with visible agitation.
Pausing at the door, Mowry held it open. “You stupes ready to talk sense?”
“Sure,” pleaded Skriva. “I was only joking. Come back and sit down.”
“Bring us four ziths,” said Mowry to the attendant who was blearing behind the counter. He returned to the table, resumed his seat. “No more bad jokes. I don’t appreciate them.”
“Forget it,” advised Skriva. “We’ve got a couple of questions for you.”
“You may voice them,” agreed Mowry, He accepted a mug of zith from the attendant, paid him, took a swig; eyed Skriva with becoming lordliness.
Skriva said, “Who d’you want us to slap down? And how do we know we’re going to get our money?”
“For the first, the victim is Colonel Hage-Ridarta.” He scribbled rapidly on a piece of paper, gave it to the other. “That is his address.”
“I see.” Skriva stared at the slip, went on, “And the money?”
“I’ll pay you five thousand right now as an act of faith, fifteen thousand when the job is done.” He stopped, gave the three of them the cold, forbidding eye. “I don’t take your word for the doing. It’s got to be squawked on the news-channels before I part with another one-tenth guilder.”
“You trust us a lot, don’t you?” said Skriva, scowling.
“No more than I have to.”
“Same applies on this side.”
“Look,” Mowry urged, “we’ve got to play ball with each other whether we like it or not. Here’s how. I’ve got a list. If you do the first job for me and I renege you’re not going to do the others, are you?”
“No.”
“What’s more, you’ll take it out of my hide first chance you get, won’t you?”
“You can bet on that,” assured Gurd.
“Similarly, if you pull a fast one on me you will cut off the flow of money, big money. You’ll deprive yourselves of far more than the Kaitempi would pay for betraying me and a dozen others. I’m outbidding the Kaitempi by a large margin, see? Don’t you fellows want to get rich?”
“I hate the idea of it,” said Skriva. “Let’s see that five thousand.”
Mowry slipped him the package under the table. The three checked it in their laps. After a while Skriva looked up, his face slightly flushed.
“We’re sold. Who is this Hage-Ridarta soko?”
“Just a brasshat who has lived too long”
That was a half-truth. Hage-Ridarta was listed in the city directory as officer commanding an outfit of space marines. But his name had been appended to an authoritative letter in Pigface’s files. The tone of the letter had been that of a boss to an underling. Hage-Ridarta was an officially disguised occupant of the Kaitempi top bracket and therefore would make a most satisfactory corpse.
“Why d’you want him out of the way? demanded Gurd, still sullen and suspicious.
Before Mowry could reply, Skriva said fiercely. “I told you before to shut up. I’ll handle this. Can’t you button your trap even for twenty thousand?”
“We haven’t got it yet,” persisted Gurd.
“You will get it” Mowry soothed. “And more, lots more. The day the news of Hage-Ridarta’s death is given in the papers or on the radio I’ll be here at the same time in the evening complete with fifteen thousand guilders and the next name. If by any chance I’m held up and can’t make it, I’ll be here at the same time the following evening.”
“You’d better be!” informed Gurd, glowering.
Arhava had a question of his own. “What’s my percentage for introducing the boys?”
“I don’t know.” Mowry turned to Skriva. “How much do you intend to give him?”
“Who?—me?” 5kriva was taken aback.
“Yes, you. The gentleman thirsts far a rakeoff. You don’t expect me to pay him, do you? Think I’m made of money?”
“Somebody had better fork out,” declared Arhava, making the mistake of his life. “Or—”
Skriva shoved scowling features up against him and breathed over his face. “Or?hat?”
“Nothing,” said Arhava, nervously leaning away. “Nothing at all.”
“That’s better,” Skriva approved in grating tones. “That’s a whole lot better. Just sit around and be a good boy, Butin, and we’ll feed you crumbs from our table. Get fidgety and you’ll soon find yourself in no condition to eat them. In fact you won’t be able to swallow. It’s tough when a fellow can’t swallow. You wouldn’t like that, would you, Butin?”
Saying nothing, Arhava sat still. His complexion was slightly mottled.
Repeating the face-shoving act. Skriva shouted, “I just asked you a civil question. I said you wouldn’t like it, would you?”
“No,” admitted Arhava, tilting back his chair to get away from the face.
Mowry decided the time had come to leave this happy scene. He took his daring far enough to say to Skriva, “Don’t get tough ideas about me—if you want to stay in business.”
With that; he went. He did not worry about the possibility of any of them following him. They wouldn’t dare, being too afraid of offending the best customer they’d had since crime came to Pertane.
As he walked rapidly along he pondered the evening’s work, decided it had been a wise move to insist that money did not grow on trees. They’d have shown no respect whatsoever if he’d been willing to shovel it out regardless as, in fact, he could afford to do should the necessity arise. They’d have put on maximum pressure to gain the most in return for the least and that would have produced more arguments than results.
It was also a good thing that he’d refused a cut to Arhava and left them to fight it out between themselves. The reaction had been revealing. A mob, even a small mob, is only as strong as its weakest link. Anyone capable of ratting to the Kaitempi. could blow the whole bunch sky-high. It was important to discover a prospective squealer before it was too late and, if one existed, to be warned accordingly. In this respect Butin Arhava hadn’t shown up so good.
“Somebody had better fork out or—”
The testing-time would come soon after he’d paid over fifteen thousand guilders for a job well done and those concerned divided the loot. Well, if the situation seemed to justify it, that’s when he’d give the Gurd-Skriva brothers the next name—that of Butin Arhava. He felt no compunctions about this decision, no qualms of conscience. So far as he was involved, all Sirians were enemies, any one of them being no more or less a foe than any other.
He continued homeward, deep in thought and not looking where he was going while he settled this matter in his mind. He had just reached the final conclusion that Arhava’s throat would have to be slit sooner or later when a heavy hand clamped on his shoulder and a voice rasped in his ear.
“Lift them up, Dreamy, and let’s see what you’ve got in your pockets. Come on, you’re not deaf, lift ’em I said!”
With a sense of sudden shock he raised his arms, felt fingers start prying into his clothes. Nearby forty or fifty equally surprised walkers were holding the same pose. A line of phlegmatic police stood across the street a hundred yards away. In the opposite direction a second line looked on with the same indifference. Yet again the random trap had sprung.
CHAPTER VI