The Dogtown Tourist Agency (7 page)

“About an hour later, the lights went out, and the room was pitch dark. A minute or two passed; then a tremendous green flash filled the room, and a clap of noise. I was startled and almost fell out of the cot. I lay in the dark expecting another flash, but after five minutes the usual lights turned on.

“A jailer began to appear in the room—a creature half-man and half-woman. His right side was masculine; his left side was female. He—I’ll call it a ‘he’—never spoke, and I never spoke. He’d walk around the room, look here and there, wink and grimace, perform some silly caper, and go. He came about five times; then I never saw him again. But one time I awoke and found three naked girls, crawling around the room on their hands and knees. When they saw I was awake, they ran out of the room. One of them was Eljiano—I think. I’m not sure. About this time my meals began to appear in articles of the most extraordinary shape and size: a tiny bowl with an enormous lopsided spoon; a ten-gallon kettle twisted into a half-spiral, with a bit of cheese at the bottom; tangles of tubes and bulbs in which I was served my drink; a tray half an inch across and three feet long holding three peas. I found these amusing rather than otherwise, though I never had enough to eat.

“The lights went out a second time, and I lay on the couch waiting for another flash of green light, but this time the ceiling billowed with luminous gas. It dissipated, and there was a view out over my old home at Thrope. It changed to other landscapes of the neighborhood, and then others I couldn’t recognize. All these pictures were distorted; they all shuddered and quivered and crawled. My own face appeared, then the top of my head. Two hands cut away my scalp with a saw, and there was my brain. A tiny naked girl appeared—I think it was Eljiano. She climbed over the rim of the skull and ran back and forth across the brain. Eljiano ran away, the picture changed and became a calm stern face—Handsome. Mind you, this was not a dream. My dreams during this time were havens of normality…The lights went on. I sat up on the couch and yawned and stretched, as if I were accustomed to such visions. I’d now decided that Handsome was deliberately trying to drive me insane. I still think so.”

Hetzel made a gesture which might have signified almost anything; Dirby turned on him a resentful scowl. “Other incidents occurred. The sounds behind me—whispers and giggles. About every third day the lights would gradually go dim, and I’d start to wonder why I couldn’t see; was I going blind? Then they’d play music—a simple tune which would meander through all kinds of meaningless phrases and never resolve, or go through a hundred repetitions. And of course, Handsome. He came twice more to the doorway which opened on the stage, and once I turned around, and there he stood in the room with me. He wore a different costume—a suit of silver scales, a silver morion with cusps across his cheeks, a nasal protecting his nose, and three silver spikes at his forehead. He spoke to me. ‘Hello, Gidion Dirby.’

“I said, ‘So you know my name.’

“‘Of course I know your name!’

“‘I thought you might be making a mistake.’

“‘I never make mistakes.’

“‘Then why are you keeping me here?’

“‘Because I choose to do so.’ He went to the table. ‘This must be your breakfast. Are you hungry?’ He took the lid off the pot, and there were the contents of my commode—or somebody else’s commode. When I looked down, he turned the pot over my head, then left by the door at the side of the stage.

“I cleaned myself up as well as I could, and went to sit on the couch. Presently I became drowsy and fell asleep, and when I woke up, I was in a new and different place—a bench outside a building of iron and glass, which I saw to be the Maz space depot. I sat for a few minutes gathering my wits. Could it be that I was free? No one paid any attention to me. I checked my pockets and my pouch: there was nothing but a few coins and a zap gun; no papers.

“A guard came up to me and asked what I was up to; I told him I was waiting for a ship. He asked for identification; I said I’d lost my papers. In that case I’d have to get new papers from the Gaean Triarch. Luckily for me, so he said, the session was just starting, and he set me off along the avenue to the Triskelion. I went into the lobby. A big red-faced official asked what I wanted. I said I must see the Gaean Triarch on urgent business. He took me into a chamber with three desks. There were three Gomaz ahead of me. The security officer led me to one of the desks and said, ‘This man claims urgent business with you.’ To me he said, ‘This is Sir Estevan Tristo; state your business.’ But I couldn’t state anything, because this was Handsome. He looked at me, and I looked at him. Then I just turned and walked away, too confused to even talk. Behind me I heard zaps going off. I looked around. Handsome had dropped behind his desk, and there was a great deal of shouting. I saw that two of the Gomaz were on the floor. The official made a dive for me, but I knocked him down and ran out the side door. I had nowhere to go, so I ran across the plaza and sat down on the bench, and there you found me. I see now that I was wrong running away; I should have stayed and told the truth. Mind search would have proved me out…Of course, they might have shot me first and asked questions later. Maybe I acted correctly.”

“Not really,” said Hetzel. “You should have continued down to Dogtown. Far Dogtown, that is. Sitting in the plaza, you’re fair game for Captain Baw. Even a confused pseudo-lunatic should know better than to pose invitingly before the Exhibitory. Why did you stop there?”

Dirby’s face became dark and sullen. “I don’t know. I saw a bench, and I sat down. Must I explain everything?”

Hetzel ignored the question. “You suffered a perplexing experience. At least, from your point of view. Sir Estevan is definitely Handsome?”

“I’d know his face among ten thousand.”

“And he recognized you?”

“He said nothing. His face showed nothing. But he must have recognized me.”

Hetzel went to the window and stood looking out over the plaza. Dirby slumped back in his chair and stared morosely down into the goblet.

Hetzel turned back to Dirby. “You are still carrying the zap gun?”

Dirby brought it forth; Hetzel examined the charge meter, slid out the power cell, examined the meter once more. “It shows a charge, but the cell is dead. The meter has been jammed.” He tossed the gun aside. “I assume that you were meant to be captured. Some element of the plan went wrong. You escaped. Or were allowed to escape.”

Dirby frowned. “So…what do I do now?”

“Send a message to your father. Ask him to send out legal aid and a Gaean marshal as quickly as possible. Then, don’t stir from the premises of the Beyranion, or you’ll be subject to the jurisdiction of the Triskelion. If you were put on trial now, your chances would be poor.”

“Mind search would prove that I’m telling the truth,” Dirby muttered.

“Mind search would prove that you subscribe to a maniac’s dream in which Sir Estevan Tristo is your persecutor. You would be declared criminally insane and guilty of murder.”

Dirby growled. “Either way, I lose.”

“You don’t have a chance unless you can corroborate your story.”

“Very well. You’re an effectuator. Effect an investigation.”

Hetzel reflected a moment. “I have other commitments. There might be a conflict of interest. Still, on the other hand, I might be able to sell the same work twice, which is all to the good. I presume you intend to pay me?”

Dirby looked up with a rather unpleasant sneer. “With what? I don’t have a zink
*
. If you’re worried, I’ll make out a draft upon my father’s bank, which he will certainly honor.”

“We’ll discuss this in due course. But first an understanding. I commit myself only to investigation. I undertake neither to assert your innocence nor to defend your guilt. You must secure legal representation elsewhere. Is this agreeable?”

Dirby gave an indifferent shrug. “Whatever you say. I’m in no position to argue.”

“By any chance are you acquainted with a certain Casimir Wuldfache? No? What about Carmine Daruble? I’d like you to examine a photograph…” Hetzel stopped short. His wallet, with eighty-five SLU and the photograph of Casimir Wuldfache, had been stolen from him. “Well, no matter.”

A chime sounded. Hetzel went to the door and slid it open, to reveal two men—the first a ponderous and immaculate gentleman whom Hetzel recognized for the hotel manager, and Kerch, the hotel security officer.

“I am Aeolus Shult, manager of the Beyranion,” said the large man in a dry, precise voice. “This is Nello Kerch, our security officer. May we come in?”

Hetzel stood back; Shult and Kerch entered the room. Hetzel said, “Allow me to introduce my guest, Vv. Gidion Dirby.”

Shult refused to acknowledge the introduction. Kerch gave Dirby an uninterested nod. “I am here in connection with Vv. Dirby,” said Shult. “Unfortunately, I must ask him to depart the premises at once.”

“This is a curious demand,” said Hetzel.

“Not at all. I have received notice to the effect that Vv. Dirby has committed a serious crime, namely, the assassination of two dignitaries. The Beyranion cannot function as a sanctuary for criminals.”

“Vv. Dirby does not fit this description,” said Hetzel. “He tells me that he is innocent of wrongdoing. Furthermore, he is not a casual intruder upon the premises; he is here as my guest.”

Shult’s face became obdurate. “Captain Baw of the Gaean Security Force has made a specific statement. He identifies Vv. Dirby as the assassin.”

“This is more puzzling than ever. Captain Baw told me that he merely heard the shots. Who made the identification?”

“Captain Baw vouchsafed no details.”

“But details are the gist of the matter. Several other persons were present when the assassinations occurred, including three Gomaz, two of whom were killed.”

“I cannot judge any of this,” said Shult. “Captain Baw is waiting in my office; he insists that I expel Vv. Dirby into his custody.”

“You would thereby set a very dangerous precedent,” said Hetzel. “Do you want Captain Baw appearing every few days to demand one or another of your guests, who for some reason or another has annoyed the Triarchs? or the Liss authorities? or the Olefract? They have rights equal and equivalent to Captain Baw.”

Kerch said, “Vv. Hetzel is quite right on this score.”

Shult pursed his lips. “Naturally, I want nothing of the sort. Still, my responsibility extends only to patrons of the hotel.”

“I have already pointed out that Vv. Dirby is my guest.”

“He is not registered as such.”

“That is irrelevant. I have rented a suite of rooms, not a single occupancy; I have the right to entertain as many guests as I wish. Now, there is another point which you have not considered. The Triskelion is a special entity, and not subject to Gaean law. The Beyranion Hotel is very definitely subject to Gaean law. Vv. Dirby has been proved guilty of nothing. If you irresponsibly turn him over to Captain Baw, and should he thereby suffer harm, you are liable for damages and a punitive fine, perhaps ten or twenty million SLU. You are treading upon exceedingly thin legal ice.”

Shult now exhibited signs of nervousness. He glanced at Kerch, who merely shrugged and turned away. “This is all very well, but I still cannot allow myself to harbor an assassin.”

“Who says he is an assassin?”

“Well…Captain Baw.”

“I suggest that you ask Captain Baw to assemble his witnesses and his evidence and bring everything here, and then we can decide upon Vv. Dirby’s guilt or innocence. Even then, you are not obliged to respond. We stand on Gaean territory; yonder is a joint jurisdiction of three races, two of whom are alien. Under no circumstances can you allow yourself to be intimidated by Captain Baw.”

Aeolus Shult heaved a deep sigh. “There is something in what you say. We must always act with due regard for Gaean justice.” He gave Hetzel a doleful salute and departed, followed by Kerch.

After several moments Dirby spoke. “So…I’m a prisoner at the Beyranion.”

“Until you prove yourself innocent.”

Dirby lapsed into mulish silence. Fifteen minutes passed. The telephone chimed. Hetzel touched the audio button. The screen lit up to display the tea-rose delicacy of Sir Estevan’s blonde receptionist. “Hetzel speaking.”

“This is the office of the Gaean Triarch. Sir Estevan Tristo regrets that he was unable to meet with you earlier today; however, he is free now and requests that you call at his office.”

“Now?”

“If it is convenient.”

Hetzel reflected a moment. “Please connect me with Sir Estevan.”

“Just a minute, sir. Will you be good enough to press your video button?”

“When Sir Estevan comes on.”

“Very good, sir.”

The screen brightened, to show a keen-featured face. Dirby came forward and stared intently at the image. He nodded to Hetzel. “That’s Handsome.”

Hetzel touched the video button. Sir Estevan said, “You are Vv. Miro Hetzel, who called at the Triskelion earlier today?”

“Quite correct, sir.”

“I would be pleased to see you now, if you are at liberty.”

“That is kind of you. However, another matter must be taken into consideration.”

“You refer to Gidion Dirby?”

Hetzel nodded. “I would like to call on you, but I do not care to be seized as soon as I leave the Beyranion and held on some trumped-up charge. If this is to be the case, I would prefer that you came here to see me.”

Sir Estevan smiled a wintry smile. “Let me check with the commandant.”

The screen went blank. Hetzel switched off the audio and looked at Dirby. “So that’s Handsome.”

Dirby nodded. “His hair is different. He wears it more formally.”

“What of his voice?”

Dirby hesitated. “It’s somewhat different. Considerably different, in fact.”

“Has it occurred to you that on the two occasions you saw Handsome at close hand he wore first a veil and then a morion which concealed a good part of his face? On the other occasions, he stood in a doorway in a section of wall where no doorway existed.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“That your experience of Handsome for the most part was a projected image, and that the voice might or might not have been his own.”