or me, Terry?" the Lumbagan said truculently.
"I'm the guy that just saved your necks, remember?"
"Just between
us," Retief said, "why did you decoy us here?"
Magnan
gasped.
"Wh—where'd
you get an idea like that?" The Lumbagan edged sideways, but was
restrained by Retief's quick grab. "Hey—leggo my neck," he yelped.
"I already told you—" "Uh-huh. But I happen to know spring rites
don't start for another two days. Somebody went to a lot of trouble to set up
the whole charade, including the conveniently unlocked door. Why, Ignarp?"
"No
fair, Retief," the local grunted. "I heard you Terries didn't know a
mob killing from a quiet little domestic knifing—"
"Some
of these impressions die hard." Retief gave the local's collar another
half-twist. "Come on, give, Ignarp."
"Retief,"
Magnan demurred, "are you sure? After all, if anyone had wanted to do us
an injury they could have done it as well in the street. ..."
"Wrong,"
the Lumbagan contradicted. "This was a hush-hush deal. And besides, the
orders were to bring you in whole."
"You
admit your duplicity?" Warbutton barked. "With your chum's knuckles
digging into my medulla oblongata, I got no choice," Ignarp said
aggrievedly. "Whose orders?"
"The
ones that hired me," Ignarp muttered. "They wanted a Terry in good
condition, that's all I can tell you. I'm just a legman—"
"Hold
it," Retief said. From the dark stairwell came faint sounds as of stealthy
feet approaching.
"We'll
have to defer our talk until later, Ignarp," Retief said. "Lead the
way out of here—and this time get it right."
"I
might as well; if the boys see me with your thumb under my ear, my rep as a slick
conniver is shot anyway. Come on . . . ." He led the Terrans back along
the passage, took a branching corridor—hardly more than a damp-walled tunnel
cut through the massive masonry pile—and in five minutes halted at the foot of
a narrow stone stair leading upward.
"It
comes out in the embassy commissary," he said glumly.
"Just
don't let on I told you about the gap in your security. There's a couple dozen
families living high on imported caviar and pate who'd hate to go back to
pulverized nidnuts and dehydrated frinkfruit."
"Stealing
from embassy stores?" Magnan gasped.
"Relax,"
the local advised. "It's costing you a lot less than if we applied for
disaster-area status and welfare handouts. As we see it, a self-respecting
life-form ought to make its own way."
"What
shall we do with the beggar?" Warbutton said. "No good turning him
over to the local constabulary. Pity we can't do him in out of hand, but that
sort of tiling doesn't look at all good when the yellow press gets hold of
it."
"Lemme
go now, pal," Ignarp said. "I admit it was a lousy idea. And to
clinch the deal, I'll throw in a tip for free: Look out when Summer Slaughter
time comes rolling around. I'm assigned to a Terry-Go-Home team, and those
babies play rough."
"Come
along, Retief," Magnan said, starting up the stairs. "There's no
point in escaping death at the hands of a mob only to face an irate chief of
mission."
Retief
released his grip on the Lumbagan. "We'll call it even for now, Ignarp. Go
back and tell your employers that we Terries like a chance to RSVP our
invitations."
"You
foreigners are full of surprises," the local muttered, and darted away.
"Here,
Retief," Warbutton remonstrated, "we should have held the blighter up
by the heels until he'd divulged all the details of the conspiracy."
"I have
a feeling he'll talk more freely on his home ground," Retief said, and
glanced at the finger-marked card he had lifted from the Lumbagan's coat
pocket. "The Stake and Kidney Tavern, number twelve Dacoit Street,"
he read.
"I know
the spot," Warbutton said. "An unsavory dive across from the scalp
fields where the hair is short."
"It's a
date," Retief said.
2
Magnan and
Retief were among the last to take seats at the long table in the conference
room, netting a baleful glance from the protuberant eye of
"I'm the guy that just saved your necks, remember?"
"Just between
us," Retief said, "why did you decoy us here?"
Magnan
gasped.
"Wh—where'd
you get an idea like that?" The Lumbagan edged sideways, but was
restrained by Retief's quick grab. "Hey—leggo my neck," he yelped.
"I already told you—" "Uh-huh. But I happen to know spring rites
don't start for another two days. Somebody went to a lot of trouble to set up
the whole charade, including the conveniently unlocked door. Why, Ignarp?"
"No
fair, Retief," the local grunted. "I heard you Terries didn't know a
mob killing from a quiet little domestic knifing—"
"Some
of these impressions die hard." Retief gave the local's collar another
half-twist. "Come on, give, Ignarp."
"Retief,"
Magnan demurred, "are you sure? After all, if anyone had wanted to do us
an injury they could have done it as well in the street. ..."
"Wrong,"
the Lumbagan contradicted. "This was a hush-hush deal. And besides, the
orders were to bring you in whole."
"You
admit your duplicity?" Warbutton barked. "With your chum's knuckles
digging into my medulla oblongata, I got no choice," Ignarp said
aggrievedly. "Whose orders?"
"The
ones that hired me," Ignarp muttered. "They wanted a Terry in good
condition, that's all I can tell you. I'm just a legman—"
"Hold
it," Retief said. From the dark stairwell came faint sounds as of stealthy
feet approaching.
"We'll
have to defer our talk until later, Ignarp," Retief said. "Lead the
way out of here—and this time get it right."
"I
might as well; if the boys see me with your thumb under my ear, my rep as a slick
conniver is shot anyway. Come on . . . ." He led the Terrans back along
the passage, took a branching corridor—hardly more than a damp-walled tunnel
cut through the massive masonry pile—and in five minutes halted at the foot of
a narrow stone stair leading upward.
"It
comes out in the embassy commissary," he said glumly.
"Just
don't let on I told you about the gap in your security. There's a couple dozen
families living high on imported caviar and pate who'd hate to go back to
pulverized nidnuts and dehydrated frinkfruit."
"Stealing
from embassy stores?" Magnan gasped.
"Relax,"
the local advised. "It's costing you a lot less than if we applied for
disaster-area status and welfare handouts. As we see it, a self-respecting
life-form ought to make its own way."
"What
shall we do with the beggar?" Warbutton said. "No good turning him
over to the local constabulary. Pity we can't do him in out of hand, but that
sort of tiling doesn't look at all good when the yellow press gets hold of
it."
"Lemme
go now, pal," Ignarp said. "I admit it was a lousy idea. And to
clinch the deal, I'll throw in a tip for free: Look out when Summer Slaughter
time comes rolling around. I'm assigned to a Terry-Go-Home team, and those
babies play rough."
"Come
along, Retief," Magnan said, starting up the stairs. "There's no
point in escaping death at the hands of a mob only to face an irate chief of
mission."
Retief
released his grip on the Lumbagan. "We'll call it even for now, Ignarp. Go
back and tell your employers that we Terries like a chance to RSVP our
invitations."
"You
foreigners are full of surprises," the local muttered, and darted away.
"Here,
Retief," Warbutton remonstrated, "we should have held the blighter up
by the heels until he'd divulged all the details of the conspiracy."
"I have
a feeling he'll talk more freely on his home ground," Retief said, and
glanced at the finger-marked card he had lifted from the Lumbagan's coat
pocket. "The Stake and Kidney Tavern, number twelve Dacoit Street,"
he read.
"I know
the spot," Warbutton said. "An unsavory dive across from the scalp
fields where the hair is short."
"It's a
date," Retief said.
2
Magnan and
Retief were among the last to take seats at the long table in the conference
room, netting a baleful glance from the protuberant eye of
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