Mission: Earth "Fortune of Fear" (14 page)

Gods, but were the Antimancos surprised to see me! When I walked into their crew quarters, they all jumped up.

"When we got back," said Stabb with frowning brow, shoving his pointed head at me, "we found the hangar crew had made that platform hollow and the
Blixo
crew put something in it! I
knew
it wasn't the right weight."

"And what did they tell you they put in it?" I asked.

"They didn't know," said Captain Stabb, "but you do."

"Compressed Scotch," I said. "They filled it full of compressed Scotch. I was going to use it for bribes. But I have bad news."

"I bet you do," said Stabb. "We been betting that you did the job and grabbed the loot for yourself."

"Actually," I said, "the gold vaults are two miles deep in the earth, way beyond the range of the line-jumper. I almost got caught. I had to use a blastick and a police slash gun and I fired both barrels of my shotgun. You can see how dirty it is. But I fought my way clear and got back."

"Hey, that took a lot of cold nerve," said an engineer.

"It certainly did," I said. "And before you falsely accuse me of welshing on my own gang, look at this. Once I found the gold vaults were beyond us, I grabbed what I could and ran."

I handed them the heavy sack of junk stones.

They spilled some of it on the table and stared at it. And I will say this, it sure glittered in the glowlights.

"Look at this!" said a pilot, holding up a big paste emerald.

"Look at these!" said an engineer, pouring a handful of synthetic diamonds and flawed glass rubies from palm to palm.

"They're all yours," I said, grandly. "Divide them up amongst you any way you wish. In appreciation of your loyal support and to compensate for no gold, you can keep every one."

With moist eyes, Captain Stabb said, "You're a great man, Gris, even if you are an officer!"

There was no higher tribute from these pirate scum.

I went back to my room and grinned and grinned.

"Gris," I said to my image in the mirror as I undressed to take a well-earned sleep, "there is nothing that can stop you now. All problems are just buzzing flies and with cunning and money, you can swat them. Even Heller and Krak."

I lay down for my well-earned rest and dreamed dreams that were bloody and very sweet.

I slept until all hours, making up for the high excitement of recent days. I dressed in a new, red sports suit. Musef was on duty. Karagoz had a black eye and even though it was midafternoon, I got a breakfast in which the coffee was hot, the melon cold and the eggs were quite all right.

A marked change had occurred all around me. It was wonderful.

Lacking, now, immediate plans, I thought I had better gather data. It's a good excuse one can give oneself when he feels too smug and self-satisfied to do any real work for the moment. Also, one likes to savor the suffering of those who are about to writhe in agony.

It was the first time I had had both viewers together. But working two screens, I could get a much more precise idea of reactions and actions, for Krak would be looking at Heller from time to time and vice versa.

I got Krak's going first. I didn't need the second viewer to see what she looked like today. She was washing a window! Her reflection in the glass was quite clear against the dingy morning of a smoggy New York day. She had on space coveralls and her hair was tucked under one of Heller's baseball caps!

Something was moving to her right in the reflection. The cat. It was sitting on the desk washing its face.

Well, if getting busy to go home to Voltar meant washing office windows, I certainly was safe. If I could just keep them slowed down long enough, keep them from doing anything effective, word would come one of these days that the Heller reports made no difference now and they could both be safely killed. So wash away, Krak. You're doing just fine.

There was something else behind her, somebody standing there motionlessly and staring at her back.

It was Izzy!

Krak, too, became aware of it. She gave the window one last wipe and turned around. Izzy backed up. He sank down on the edge of a couch and started crying!

The Countess Krak said, "Why, Izzy. What on Earth is wrong?"

Izzy sobbed a while. Then he said in a muffled voice, "You're too beautiful to have to live in an office."

Beautiful? In space coveralls too big and a baseball cap too big? What was Izzy up to now? Some con, I wagered. I waited with interest to see what it was.

Krak said, "But this is a beautiful office, Izzy."

"No, no," he said, "not beautiful enough for you. You deserve a gorgeous apartment."

She seemed to think about it. Then she said, "Well, I have a credit card. Maybe I could rent one with that."

My hair went straight up!

Then Izzy said something that really warmed my heart. I really realized what a sterling true-blue character he was after all. "No, no, no! I am responsible for Mr. Jet. If any apartments are to be gotten, I will get them. Please promise me you won't do that. You wouldn't find anything beautiful enough for you."

I couldn't quite figure it out. Was he angling for a commission or what?

On Heller's viewer, I had just been seeing elevators and halls. But here was a view of the office. He had just walked in. He took a look at Izzy. "What's wrong?"

Izzy was crying again on both viewers. He was pointing helplessly at Krak.

Heller said to her, "Dear, would you please step into the 'thinking room' and clean it up. Close the door so I can get to the bottom of this before he jumps off something again and beats me to it."

When Krak had closed the door, Heller said, "What's wrong, Izzy?"

Izzy was mopping at his eyes with the heel of his palm. "The bartender thinks she must be a movie star or is about to be. The model agency down the hall has been pestering me to get her to run for Miss America so they can have a contract to use her in the Coca-Cola ads. Bang-Bang says she is the most beautiful woman on the planet. And because I am a failure, I am forcing her to live here without any home at all."

"Well," said Heller, "buy a condo or something."

Izzy went into a fresh spasm of wailing. Then he said, "That's the trouble. We're barely making expenses on arbitrage. IRS is boring in and we can't pay them. And when I came in a little while ago and saw her again, I realized I was condemning her to squalor and poverty. It drove the ruin home so hard I couldn't stand it!"

Heller said, "Well, all right. I'll go out and make some money."

Izzy amazed me. Here he had led it all up to some perfect con. But he leaped up in alarm, waving his arms. "No, no, no! Don't try to persuade somebody to shoot at you again so you can collect the fee. That's too dangerous!"

Heller laughed. He said, "I'll think of something else."

"You're taking over my job and I deserve it. But please, please promise me you won't do anything foolish!"

"I can only promise to try not to," said Heller.

Krak came out of the other room, putting a pillow in its case. Izzy instantly leaped for the door and fled.

"What was that all about?" said Krak.

"He thinks you're too beautiful," said Heller. "But so do I. Especially with the very best brand of New York soot on the end of your nose."

She threw the pillow at him. He caught it and, on the pretext of giving it back, kissed her. Both my viewers went
FLASH!

But Heller did not hold her long. He let go of her and wandered over to the bar. She stood staring after him. He picked up a newspaper somebody must have been reading and started going through it.

"Money," he was muttering to himself. "Money, money, money. This planet doesn't run on an axis. It runs on money!" He passed the comic page too fast to let me see what was happening to Bugs Bunny these days.

He stopped suddenly at an ad. It said:

$ATLANTIC CITY$

$WINTER CASINO $PECTACULAR$

5 Casino$ 5

EXTRAVAGANZA!

New Year's Bills Getting You Down?

RECOVER WITH ROULETTE

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

He looked up. He said to Krak, "You're working too hard. We're going to Atlantic City."

She stopped putting cleaning things away and looked at him with a shocked expression on her face. "WHAT? And leave your own work undone on this planet?"

"No, no," he said. "Not Atalanta, Manco. Atlantic City, New Jersey. And wash your face. This has got to be a clean hit."

"Where is this place?" said Krak, coming over to him.

He showed her the ad. He hadn't read it all. Toward the bottom it said:

FREE FLOOR SHOW

The Clowns

The Apes

Dingle-Poop Rock Band

Mamie Boomp, Continental Singer

"Oh," said Krak, "Iknow her. And Iwant to see her, top, to get her opinion on spring styles."

A voice sounded behind them. "Anybody home?" It was Bang-Bang. He was carrying a sack. "I'm sorry, Joy, but those birds in that fancy shop never heard of nothing called 'hot jolt.' So I got the Bavarian Mocha Mint and the champagne. But Ithink that Scotch would go better in it. Not even the cat will touch champagne: it gets in his nose."

"Where'd you park the cab?" said Heller. "We're going to Atlantic City." He held up the ad.

Bang-Bang looked at it. His finger came down to the bottom of the page. He was pointing out the final line to Heller. It said:

Scalpello Casino Corp. of New Jersey

Bang-Bang said, "That's the Atlantic City Mafia. Small time, maybe, but vicious. If you're going to knock the place over, I ought to go with you as a back-up gun. But that (bleeped) parole officer is narrow-minded: He won't let me set foot out of New York. So you be awful careful, Jet-you hear me speaking?"

Heller said, "The lady and I will be all right."

Bang-Bang's eyes shot wide. "The lady! You takin' Joy down there? Jesus-beggin' your pardon, miss-but she's too beautiful to let them punks even glance at her! They don't deserve it!"

"She'll be all right," said Heller.

"Oh, Jet," said Bang-Bang, "that's a (bleeped) – begging your pardon, miss-dangerous place. Those (bleepards) – begging your pardon, miss-don't care who the hell they shoot." He apparently saw Jet wasn't impressed. He gave up. Then he rallied. "Well, at least I won't let her be driven two hundred and fifty miles in that (bleeped) – begging your pardon, miss-cab. It doesn't ride near good enough. I'll phone the 34th Street East Heliport for reservations and run you across town. They got a new fast chopper run to Atlantic City that's safe and comfortable. And I'll sweep out the cab."

He grabbed a phone.

Heller was rummaging around, picking up this and that.

The Countess Krak raced into the secretary's boudoir and shut the door; going to get dressed, I guessed, and pack a bag.

I was really smiling. The Atlantic City Mafia. I had heard all about them. They specialized in hijacking and beating up high winners.

My euphoria increased. There wasn't any way I could lose. If Heller lost money, it would be just that much less that they would have to meet their bills. If he won, the Atlantic City Mafia would attack him and maybe he and Krak would both wind up in the hospital.

What a beautiful day! It might be cold winter for a lot of people. It seemed like the balmiest possible weather to me. It was a downright rosy world!

Despite the wintry day, I went out and took a turn around the yard. I felt too full of springs to sit too long.

Torgut was on duty. He was wearing a new sheepskin coat and boots and cap. He was carrying a club. He looked much better fed. He bowed ceremoniously. That was good.

I caught a glimpse of some of the staff. Their faces were white with fright. How very satisfactory!

The BMW was gone and there was no trace of the little boys. How nice and quiet!

I went back in and cleaned and oiled some of my guns to while away the time. And, as I worked, a message came through the slot. It said:

That made me blink. I myself had forgotten that Heller and Krak were going to go beyond the two-hundred-mile activator-receiver range. How had he found out?

Raht, to make up for the lack of his partner Terb, must have that office bugged. He might even have bugs of his own on Heller and Krak. I felt very heartened. I had even scared Raht into doing his job for a change. My, things certainly were looking up!

Heller and Krak didn't stand a chance! I could order them shot at any time. All I needed was the word from Lombar that Heller's communication terminal on Voltar had been nullified. Now all I had to do was make sure they were enough slowed down so that they accomplished nothing that would upset Lombar's plans! And I certainly had the money to do that!

Tolerantly, as one looks at cripples who are sure to lose any race, I turned my attention back to the screens.

"But why do they have those silly blades on top?" Krak wanted to know.

They were riding in a multipassenger helicopter.

"To keep the pilot's head cool," said Heller.

"Oh, Jettero, you're fooling me."

"Why, I wouldn't do that. They have very hotheaded pilots."

"Well, they certainly don't have proper antigravity airbuses. The least you could do to straighten them out is teach them how to make hot jolt."

"I'll put it right at the top of my list," said Heller. "Look, there's Atlantic City."

They both looked out the window at a cold and dismal winter scene. The gray Atlantic was pushing sullen swells up against the beach. The five amusement piers suffered occasional windblown spumes of chilly spray. The high-rise buildings and hotels stood battered along the mostly shuttered Boardwalk.