Crown inspector?"
"I'm on Grand Council orders, if that's what you mean. Come on up."
Faht Bey was not about to climb that eighty feet of rickety ladder from the bottom of the hangar to the airlock on the vertical ship. "I just wanted to see you."
"I want to see you, too," said Heller, looking down the ladder. "The clothes in your costume section are too short and the shoes there are about three sizes too small for me." I was disappointed. He hadn't hurt his foot, it was tight shoes. Well, you can't always grab the pot.
"That's what I wanted to see you about," Faht Bey yelled up at him. "The people in town are looking all
over for somebody that fits your description. They say he waylaid two popular characters at different times in an alley and beat them up with a lead pipe. One has a cracked neck and the other a broken arm and fractured skull. They had to be shipped into Istanbul to be hospitalized."
"How'd you know it fits my description?" said Heller. My Gods, he was nosy. "This is the first time you've seen me."
"Gris said what you looked like," said this (bleep) Faht Bey. "So please don't take it badly. It's my guess you'll be leaving here in two or three days." Well, (bleep) him! He must have read Lombar's order to Raht! "So I've got to invoke my authority on the subject of base security and ask you not to leave this hangar while you're here."
"Can I wander around the hangar?" said Heller.
"Oh, that's all right, just as long as you don't leave the outside-world end of the tunnels."
Heller waved him an airy hand. "Thanks for the tip, Officer Faht."
And that was the end of that one. I sped ahead to the next light flash that showed the door was open.
Heller was going down the ladder, zip, zip. He landed at the bottom with a tremendous clank. It startled me until I realized he was wearing hull shoes with the metal bars loose.
He started clickety-clacking around, a little notebook held in his hand, making jots and touching his watch now and then. He went around the whole perimeter of the hangar, clickety-clack, POP. I knew what he was doing. He was just amusing himself surveying the place. These engineers! They're crazy. Maybe he was practicing his sense of direction or something.
I kept speeding the strip ahead. But that was all he
was up to. He'd stop by doors and branch tunnels and make little notes and loud POPs.
Now and then he'd meet an Apparatus personnel. The first couple, he gave them a cheerful good morning. But they turned an icy shoulder to him. After that he didn't speak to anyone. My rumor was working!
He got into some side tunnels and took some interest in the dimensions of the detention cells. It would be hard to tell they were cells for they were not as secure as Spiteos—no wire. They just had iron bars set into the rock. The base crew who had redesigned the place had overdone it on detention cells—they had made enough for hundreds of people and never at any time were there more than a dozen. They were empty now.
Speeding ahead, I saw that he had stopped and I went back to find what was interesting him so much.
He was standing in front of the storage room doors. They are very massive. There are about fifty of them in a curving line that back the hangar itself, a sort of corridor. The corridor has numerous openings into the hangar itself.
They were all locked, of course. And the windows in the doors, necessary to circulate the air and prevent mold, are much too high up to see through. I was fairly certain he would not even guess what they contained.
Lombar, when the pressure was put on Turkey to stop growing opium, had really outdone himself. He had ordered so much of it bought, it would have glutted the market had it all been released. Now, there it was, nicely bagged in big sacks. Tons and tons and tons of it.
But even if one jumped up and got a look through the windows, there was nothing to be seen. Just piles of bags.
Heller examined the floor. But what was there to find? Just the
"I'm on Grand Council orders, if that's what you mean. Come on up."
Faht Bey was not about to climb that eighty feet of rickety ladder from the bottom of the hangar to the airlock on the vertical ship. "I just wanted to see you."
"I want to see you, too," said Heller, looking down the ladder. "The clothes in your costume section are too short and the shoes there are about three sizes too small for me." I was disappointed. He hadn't hurt his foot, it was tight shoes. Well, you can't always grab the pot.
"That's what I wanted to see you about," Faht Bey yelled up at him. "The people in town are looking all
over for somebody that fits your description. They say he waylaid two popular characters at different times in an alley and beat them up with a lead pipe. One has a cracked neck and the other a broken arm and fractured skull. They had to be shipped into Istanbul to be hospitalized."
"How'd you know it fits my description?" said Heller. My Gods, he was nosy. "This is the first time you've seen me."
"Gris said what you looked like," said this (bleep) Faht Bey. "So please don't take it badly. It's my guess you'll be leaving here in two or three days." Well, (bleep) him! He must have read Lombar's order to Raht! "So I've got to invoke my authority on the subject of base security and ask you not to leave this hangar while you're here."
"Can I wander around the hangar?" said Heller.
"Oh, that's all right, just as long as you don't leave the outside-world end of the tunnels."
Heller waved him an airy hand. "Thanks for the tip, Officer Faht."
And that was the end of that one. I sped ahead to the next light flash that showed the door was open.
Heller was going down the ladder, zip, zip. He landed at the bottom with a tremendous clank. It startled me until I realized he was wearing hull shoes with the metal bars loose.
He started clickety-clacking around, a little notebook held in his hand, making jots and touching his watch now and then. He went around the whole perimeter of the hangar, clickety-clack, POP. I knew what he was doing. He was just amusing himself surveying the place. These engineers! They're crazy. Maybe he was practicing his sense of direction or something.
I kept speeding the strip ahead. But that was all he
was up to. He'd stop by doors and branch tunnels and make little notes and loud POPs.
Now and then he'd meet an Apparatus personnel. The first couple, he gave them a cheerful good morning. But they turned an icy shoulder to him. After that he didn't speak to anyone. My rumor was working!
He got into some side tunnels and took some interest in the dimensions of the detention cells. It would be hard to tell they were cells for they were not as secure as Spiteos—no wire. They just had iron bars set into the rock. The base crew who had redesigned the place had overdone it on detention cells—they had made enough for hundreds of people and never at any time were there more than a dozen. They were empty now.
Speeding ahead, I saw that he had stopped and I went back to find what was interesting him so much.
He was standing in front of the storage room doors. They are very massive. There are about fifty of them in a curving line that back the hangar itself, a sort of corridor. The corridor has numerous openings into the hangar itself.
They were all locked, of course. And the windows in the doors, necessary to circulate the air and prevent mold, are much too high up to see through. I was fairly certain he would not even guess what they contained.
Lombar, when the pressure was put on Turkey to stop growing opium, had really outdone himself. He had ordered so much of it bought, it would have glutted the market had it all been released. Now, there it was, nicely bagged in big sacks. Tons and tons and tons of it.
But even if one jumped up and got a look through the windows, there was nothing to be seen. Just piles of bags.
Heller examined the floor. But what was there to find? Just the
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