Throy (8 page)

          “I understand that you are contemplating matrimony.”

“That is the plan,” said Glawen.

Bodwyn Wook gave a prim nod. “No doubt you have taken all necessary advice on the subject?”

Glawen looked suspiciously toward the bland face. “All that was necessary - which was not very much.”

“Just so.” Bodwyn Wook leaned back in the chair and gazed toward the ceiling. His voice took on pedantic overtones. “The subject of matrimony is rife with a thousand myths. It is not at all a trivial subject. As an institution, it probably antecedes the history of the Gaean race. Much time and effort have been devoted to the topic, both in theoretical study and in the practical research of several quadrillion human beings. The consensus seems to be that the institution is not inherently logical and that many of its aspects are needlessly arbitrary. Still, the system persists. Unspiek, Baron Bodissey, has pointed out that, were it not for the institution of marriage, evolution need not have differentiated the sexes with quite such loving care.”

Glawen wondered where the conversation might be leading. At Bureau B, when an operative was summoned to the inner office, the level of Bodwyn Wook’s discursiveness was considered a gauge as to the difficulty of the task he was about to assign. Glawen felt a twinge of uneasiness. Never before, in his experience, had Bodwyn Wook rambled on so capriciously.

Nor had he come to an end. Frowning toward the ceiling he mused: “As I recall, Wayness was born in Stroma.”

“That is correct.”

“Our problems at Stroma, along with those at Lutwen Atoll, are now serious. Wayness must feel a degree of personal involvement.”

“Mainly, she wants the affair settled quickly and painlessly in accordance with the Charter.”

“So do we all,” declared Bodwyn Wook piously. “We can allow no more shirking; each of us must put his shoulder to the wheel.”

          Aha, thought Glawen. At last we are coming down to cases. “And you have found a wheel for my shoulder?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” He rearranged the papers on his desk. “Our colloquy with Rufo Kathcar was not a success. No one was sympathetic. You were as dreary as a dead fish, Scharde was caustic, Egon Tamm made no secret of his doubts, while I was somewhat too noncommittal. All in all, we were not at our best, and an opportunity went flitting.”

Glawen looked out the window and along the flow of the Wann River. Bodwyn Wook watched him keenly, but Glawen allowed not so much as a twitch to disturb the serenity of his expression.

Apparently satisfied, Bodwyn Wook relaxed in his chair. Events had now been rearranged in what would henceforth be the official version. “This morning I decided to renew contact with Kathcar. To this end I called Warden Ballinder. He informed me that Kathcar had not been seen for several days. Apparently he has gone into seclusion.”

“There may be another explanation.”

Bodwyn Wook gave a curt nod. “Warden Ballinder is looking into the matter.”

Glawen had no wish to return to Stroma, to find Kathcar or for any other reason. He and Wayness were currently preoccupied with plans for the house they would build after their marriage; it was a most interesting process.

Bodwyn Wook continued. “Now we must use what crumbs fall our way. Kathcar hinted at much but told us little. He mentioned the names ‘Lewyn Barduys’ and ‘Flitz.’ It seems that Barduys is active in the transportation industry. Smonny and the LPF want transport to ferry the Yips ashore. Barduys can provide this transport hence he is a popular man, as well as hard to find, which evidently is the way he likes it.”

“Has the IPCC any information?”

“He has no criminal record, so there is no file on him. The current Gaean Industrial Directory lists him as principal stockholder in several companies: L-B Construction, Span Transit, Rhombus Cargo Transport, perhaps others. He is an extremely wealthy man, but he keeps himself out of sight.”

“He is not invisible. Someone must know something about him.”

Bodwyn Wook nodded. “This brings us to the subject of Namour, who supplied Barduys with a gang of Yip laborers.”

“It seems a complicated business,” said Glawen in a subdued voice. Whoever ultimately took this case in hand would find little time for private activities, such as discovering the exactly right site for a new home, and making all kinds of other interesting decisions.

“So it does. Namour took most of his indentured Yips to Rosalia. Barduys is not included in the Handbook’s list of Rosalia ranchers - which may mean much or nothing.”

“You should ask Chilke,” said Glawen. “He spent quite some time on Rosalia.”

“That is a good idea,” said Bodwyn Wook. “Now then: to business! You seem particularly adept with these off-world cases -”

“Not really! It only seems that way! A dozen times I have escaped death by a hair’s breadth! It is a wonder -”

Bodwyn Wook held up his hand. “Modesty is rare in a Clattuc, and it becomes you. However, I am almost inclined to look for an ulterior motive!”

Glawen had nothing to say. Bodwyn Wook went on: “Bureau B manpower is stretched to the limit, what with our continual patrols and inspections, so low-rank operatives like yourself must be sent to deal with important affairs.”

Glawen pondered a moment, then said: “If you promoted me to a higher rank it would ease half your problem.”

“All in good time. Hasty advancement makes for a poor officer; that is tried and true doctrine, valid across the ages. Proper seasoning, over eight or, better, ten years will be to your ultimate benefit.”

Glawen made no comment. Bodwyn Wook went on briskly: “Despite all, I am entrusting this investigation to you. It will, of course, take you off-world - where I cannot predict. Keep in mind that you are looking for both Barduys and Namour, although Barduys is your primary concern. No doubt he will easily be found through his business connections. I mention Namour because Barduys and the Yip labor gangs may provide a clue as to Namour’s whereabouts. It is natural to think of the world Rosalia and Shadow Valley Ranch in this connection. You must deal cautiously with Namour; he is a callous and resourceful murderer. We have much unfinished business with him back here at the Station, and he will make no mild submission. Indeed, according to rumor, he runs with a gang of bloody-minded thugs. Still, you will deal with him relentlessly and make a standard Bureau B arrest.”

          “Alone?”

          “Certainly! Never forget that in your person resides the full force and consequence of Bureau B!”

“Very good, sir! I will remember this point. Still, my death will not solve your personnel problems.”

Bodwyn Wook, leaning back in his chair, surveyed Glawen dispassionately. “You have some valuable qualities, patience and persistence among them, which help make you a competent operative. But I suspect that your most valuable adjunct is luck. For this reason I doubt if you will be killed or even maimed. Your marriage will still be viable when you return - provided that you do not stay away too long.”

“I almost feel sorry for Namour, once I lay my hands on him,” Glawen muttered.

Bodwyn Wook ignored the remark. “Report here tomorrow at noon for your final instructions. In the afternoon you will board the
Mircea Wanderling
which will take you down the Wisp to the junction at Soumjiana.”

Chapter 2, Part III

On the following day, five minutes before noon, Glawen arrived at the Bureau B offices. He checked in with Hilda, who languidly glanced at a list. she shook her head. “He is in conference at the moment; you’ll have to wait until he is free.”

          “Please tell him that I am waiting,” said Glawen. “He asked me to report at noon precisely.”

Hilda grudgingly spoke into the communicator, and sniffed disapprovingly to hear Bodwyn Wook’s emphatic response. She jerked her head toward the door. “He says for you to go on in.”

Glawen entered the office. Bodwyn Wook was not alone. In a chair to the side sat Eustace Chilke. Glawen stopped short and stared, momentarily taken aback. Chilke gave him a casual wave of the hand, along with a rather sheepish grin, as if he too recognized the incongruity of his presence here in Bodwyn Wook’s office.

Chilke had been born at Idola, on the Big Prairie of Old Earth. At an early age, the lure of far places had become irresistible, and he had gone off to explore the worlds of the Gaean Reach. The years went by, and Chilke wandered here and there. He visited strange landscapes and exotic cities, where he dined on odd concoctions and slept in strange beds, sometimes in company with mysterious companions. He worked at many employments, acquiring a variety of unusual skills. Arriving at Araminta Station, he found a congenial environment and came to rest. He now worked at the air terminal, where an important title ‘Director of Air Operations’ augmented his relatively modest stipend.

Chilke, a few years past the first flush of youth, was of middle stature and sturdy physique, with innocent blue eyes and short dusty-blond curls. His features were blunt and somewhat askew, which gave him an air of droll perplexity, mixed with muted reproach for the tribulations which had been his lot in life. Sitting now to the side of Bodwyn Wook’s office, Chilke seemed quite at ease, his manner unconcerned.

Glawen seated himself and tried to appraise the condition of Bodwyn Wook’s disposition. The signs were not reassuring. Bodwyn Wook sat bolt upright at the edge of his chair, squinting as he arranged the papers on his desk. He darted a sharp yellow glance toward Glawen and finally spoke. “I have conferred at length with Commander Chilke. It has been a useful exercise.”

Glawen acknowledged the remark with a nod. He might have pointed out that Chilke’s title was more correctly ‘Director,’ but Bodwyn Wook would not thank him for the correction.

“I have ascertained that Eustace Chilke is a man of many competencies and wide experience. I believe that this is your opinion?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yesterday you expressed timidity at the prospect of conducting an off-world mission alone.”

“What!” cried Glawen, jarred from his passivity. “No such thing!”

Bodwyn Wook appraised him under hooded eyelids. “You did not express such diffidence?”

“I said that I doubted whether I could capture Namour and a gang of thugs single-handed!”

“It is all the same, one way or the other. You have convinced me that for the proper prosecution of this mission, two agents are required.” Leaning back in his chair, he put the tips of his fingers together. “Eustace Chilke, along with his other qualifications, is also acquainted with the world Rosalia, which may well figure in the investigation. Therefore I am pleased to announce that he has agreed to participate in this mission. You will not be alone, as you feared.”

“I will be happy to work with Chilke,” said Glawen.

Bodwyn Wook continued. “It is important that you both be equipped with official authority. Therefore I have appointed Chilke to the full status of a Bureau B agent, and consequent Accreditation with the IPCC.”

Glawen began to feel bewildered. “Isn’t Chilke too old to start agency routine? Did you explain the four years of junior training and all the development programs?”

“Chilke’s unique capabilities allowed us to bypass the standard regimen. He cannot be expected to take a cut in salary; therefore he has been appointed to a rank of appropriate salary-level. The rank which Chilke has earned for himself is ‘Sub-Commander’: a grade between ‘Captain’ and full ‘Commander.’

          Glawen’s jaw dropped. He turned to stare at Chilke, who shrugged and grinned. Glawen turned back to Bodwyn Wook. “If Chilke becomes a ‘Sub-Commander,’ he outranks a ‘Captain,’ such as me.”

“True, of course.”

“And if we go out together on a mission, Sub-Commander Chilke will be the officer in authority.”

“That is inherent in the concept of ‘rank.’”

“Do you recall that yesterday I suggested a promotion, and you told me that I needed another ten years of seasoning?”

“Of course I remember!” snapped Bodwyn Wook. “Do you consider me senile?”

“And today, instead of ten years, ten minutes is enough seasoning for Eustace Chilke?”

          “Such are the exigencies of the moment,” said Bodwyn Wook.

          “Here is another exigency,” said Glawen. He rose to his feet, brought out his warrant card, tossed it upon Bodwyn Wook’s desk. “There you have it; my resignation. I am no longer associated with Bureau B.” He turned to go.

‘Just a moment!” cried Bodwyn Wook. “This is an irresponsible act, in view of our personnel problems!”

“Not at all! I have learned my lesson. The last two times you sent me out in this style I barely escaped with

my life.”

“Bah,” muttered Bodwyn Wook. “It was your mad Clattuc rashness which prompted you to play the cock-a-hoop bravo at all costs. You must blame only the flaw in your own personality.”

Glawen, halfway to the door, stopped short. “Tell me this: how can I be at once timid and diffident, and sweating with fear, while still indulging in these escapades you describe.”

          “Clattucs are all mad,” said Bodwyn Wook. “That is well known. This is how the disease affects you, and it is truly pitiful that you should blame me, a tired old man, for your trouble.”

Chilke spoke in a gentle voice: “Let me make a suggestion. If you promote Glawen to ‘Commander’, as he probably deserves, everyone would be happy.”

Bodwyn Wook sank back aghast into his seat. “He would be the youngest man ever to use such a rank! It is

unthinkable!”

“I thought it,” said Chilke modestly. “What about you, Glawen? Can you think it?”

‘Just barely, after what I have been through. But I can think it.”

“Very well,” said Bodwyn Wook hollowly. “So be it!” He leaned forward and spoke into the communicator. “Hilda! Bring in a bottle of the best Averly Sergence, along with three glasses! Commander Clattuc, Sub-commander Chilke and I wish to celebrate a happy occasion.”

“Sir?” asked Hilda. “Did I hear you rightly?”

“You did indeed! Make sure of the vintage; we drink no paltry stuff today!”