recorded everything—it’s in those spheres your goons captured!”
“His what? ” Drexler growled; his-bristling.
“Assistants! Associates! Whatever!”
Annoyance crackled along Maijstral’s nerves. He really didn’t want to credit the notion that Conchita actually had an alibi.
“Stealing where?” he asked. “And what?”
“In Australia. An entire consignment of rare pink and green Australian diamonds from the Nokh & Nokh depository. No style points, but I needed the cash.”
Maijstral frowned. Conchita’s story had the discouraging ring of truth.
It must be admitted that sometimes even Allowed Burglars—whose calling glorified, nay demanded, the search for and acquisition of the rare, the wonderful, and the celebrated—sometimes even Allowed Burglars demonstrated a regrettable lack of regard for the possibilities of their profession and merely stole things for the money. Usually, it must be said, in bulk, Conchita’s vaultful of diamonds being a good example. Because these jobs were rarely, granted anything like the full ten points awarded for style, many were never submitted to the Imperial Sporting Commission for rating, but merely went to support the burglar in maintaining the high style with which he floated from place to place, looking for rarer forms of plunder.
Maijstral, particularly in his early days as a burglar, had been known to plunder the odd diamond vault himself. And even Ralph Adverse, the most legendary burglar of all, Ralph Adverse of the Losey Portrait, the Manchester Apollo, and the Eltdown Shard itself, was said to have knocked over a bank or two when the opportunity presented.
“Drexler,” Maijstral said, “go to the flier and check the news bulletins. Find out if Nokh & Nokh had a robbery in the last day or so.”
Drexler snapped his hi-stick in two and tossed the broken bits into the Canyon. “Whether she’s telling the truth or not,” he said, “she still called me a goon. I think we should chuck her in just for that.”
“Sir,” Roman said, as Drexler walked toward the flier, “it would have been daylight in Australia when the pistol was stolen. Hardly an ideal time to break into a vault.”
Maijstral brightened. “Daylight, eh?” he said cheerfully. He turned to Conchita. “What do you say to that, Miss Sparrow?”
“It was William Bligh Day,” Conchita said, “A holiday. I had the whole day to plunder the vault.”
Maijstral scowled. He was vexed with William Bligh, and he didn’t even know who Bligh was.
This was unfortunate, for had Maijstral only known it, Bligh had much in common with Maijstral’s family, specifically Maijstral’s grandfather. Both Bligh and Governor His Grace Robert, Duke of Dornier, had the misfortune to suffer mutinies and handle them badly. Bligh was the victim of no less than two mutinies during his naval career, and then suffered the final martyrdom when the entire continent of Australia mutinied against his administration. Duke Robert had only one mutiny to deal with, but he mishandled it so spectacularly that his name, and that of his descendants, were blighted forevermore.
It is instructive to observe how the Khosali dealt with each of these unfortunate officers. With their passion for law, discipline, and regularity, the Khosali were sympathetic to Bligh, viewed him as a martyr to Order, and created a holiday for him. Statues were built to him throughout Oceania. Duke Robert, by contrast, had acquired such an infamous reputation that the Khosali preferred to treat him gingerly, when they treated him at all. No mention was made of him, no statues built, no holidays declared. No posthumous decorations were ordered. The Green Legion was mothballed, and any mentions in the official histories were as terse and uninformative as possible.
Even the Khosali quest for Order has its limits.
*
“Bad news, boss,” Drexler said from the flier. “Nokh & Nokh got knocked over.”
Maijstral took the bad news stoically. He
“His what? ” Drexler growled; his-bristling.
“Assistants! Associates! Whatever!”
Annoyance crackled along Maijstral’s nerves. He really didn’t want to credit the notion that Conchita actually had an alibi.
“Stealing where?” he asked. “And what?”
“In Australia. An entire consignment of rare pink and green Australian diamonds from the Nokh & Nokh depository. No style points, but I needed the cash.”
Maijstral frowned. Conchita’s story had the discouraging ring of truth.
It must be admitted that sometimes even Allowed Burglars—whose calling glorified, nay demanded, the search for and acquisition of the rare, the wonderful, and the celebrated—sometimes even Allowed Burglars demonstrated a regrettable lack of regard for the possibilities of their profession and merely stole things for the money. Usually, it must be said, in bulk, Conchita’s vaultful of diamonds being a good example. Because these jobs were rarely, granted anything like the full ten points awarded for style, many were never submitted to the Imperial Sporting Commission for rating, but merely went to support the burglar in maintaining the high style with which he floated from place to place, looking for rarer forms of plunder.
Maijstral, particularly in his early days as a burglar, had been known to plunder the odd diamond vault himself. And even Ralph Adverse, the most legendary burglar of all, Ralph Adverse of the Losey Portrait, the Manchester Apollo, and the Eltdown Shard itself, was said to have knocked over a bank or two when the opportunity presented.
“Drexler,” Maijstral said, “go to the flier and check the news bulletins. Find out if Nokh & Nokh had a robbery in the last day or so.”
Drexler snapped his hi-stick in two and tossed the broken bits into the Canyon. “Whether she’s telling the truth or not,” he said, “she still called me a goon. I think we should chuck her in just for that.”
“Sir,” Roman said, as Drexler walked toward the flier, “it would have been daylight in Australia when the pistol was stolen. Hardly an ideal time to break into a vault.”
Maijstral brightened. “Daylight, eh?” he said cheerfully. He turned to Conchita. “What do you say to that, Miss Sparrow?”
“It was William Bligh Day,” Conchita said, “A holiday. I had the whole day to plunder the vault.”
Maijstral scowled. He was vexed with William Bligh, and he didn’t even know who Bligh was.
This was unfortunate, for had Maijstral only known it, Bligh had much in common with Maijstral’s family, specifically Maijstral’s grandfather. Both Bligh and Governor His Grace Robert, Duke of Dornier, had the misfortune to suffer mutinies and handle them badly. Bligh was the victim of no less than two mutinies during his naval career, and then suffered the final martyrdom when the entire continent of Australia mutinied against his administration. Duke Robert had only one mutiny to deal with, but he mishandled it so spectacularly that his name, and that of his descendants, were blighted forevermore.
It is instructive to observe how the Khosali dealt with each of these unfortunate officers. With their passion for law, discipline, and regularity, the Khosali were sympathetic to Bligh, viewed him as a martyr to Order, and created a holiday for him. Statues were built to him throughout Oceania. Duke Robert, by contrast, had acquired such an infamous reputation that the Khosali preferred to treat him gingerly, when they treated him at all. No mention was made of him, no statues built, no holidays declared. No posthumous decorations were ordered. The Green Legion was mothballed, and any mentions in the official histories were as terse and uninformative as possible.
Even the Khosali quest for Order has its limits.
*
“Bad news, boss,” Drexler said from the flier. “Nokh & Nokh got knocked over.”
Maijstral took the bad news stoically. He
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