Catton emerged from the alley, grinning wryly. “Your idea of pretense is a little grim, brother. That shot of yours nearly hit me.”
“The aim was faulty. I apologize.”
“Where are the others?”
“Taken to the Crime Office for interrogation. I am officially to report that you were killed attempting escape. The girl will be released after questioning.”
“How about the others?”
“Intensive probing.”
Catton nodded. “All right. Consider me killed attempting escape. I’m going to get this paint taken off me now.”
He made his way through the back streets to the shop of the old Morilaru, which he found with a relatively small amount of difficulty. The old man was dozing again. Catton woke him and said, “Turn me into an Earthman again. The disguise has done its job.”
Catton stripped and let the dye-remover be applied; in ten minutes he was once again himself. He gave the old man a one-throne piece, as promised, and then, grinning conspiratorially, said, “Here’s another throne for you. But don’t tell Nuuri I gave it to you.”
“My deepest gratitude,” murmured the Morilaru.
Catton was happy to be rid of the layer of coloring, the contact lenses, and all the rest. An Earthman again, he hurried to the Street of the Two Moons and hired a cab there to take him to the offices of the Interworld Commission on Crime.
En route, he had time to think about Estil Seeman. The girl had run away, or perhaps she had been abducted by Doveril—but where might they be? Catton thought he knew. The hint dropped by one of the hypnojewel smugglers seemed to indicate that the source of supply for the gems was somewhere on Skorg. It was possible that Doveril might have fled there with Estil. Perhaps, he thought, it would be profitable for him to go there as well—ostensibly investigating the hypnojewel trade, less ostensibly searching for the missing girl, and actually observing for Earth’s purposes the second most important world in the Morilar-Skorg-Arenadd axis.
This time, when he arrived at Number Eleven in the Street of Government, he had no difficulty gaining entry to the offices of the Interworld Commission on Crime. He was, after all, a member of that Commission now himself. He went directly to Pouin Beryaal’s office. Beryaal was not there, but Ennid Uruod, the flabby Arenaddin member of the Commission, was.
“Where’s Beryaal?” Catton asked.
“Interrogating the prisoners. He and eMerikh enjoy such torments; my stomach is weaker.”
“How about the girl?”
Uruod lifted a fat-encased arm and pointed to an adjoining office. “In there, waiting for you. They’ve finished questioning her.”
Catton thanked the Arenaddin and passed through the doorway into the next office. Nuuri was there, looking tense and troubled. But she managed a smile as he entered.
“They’ve officially released me,” she said.
“How about the others?”
She shrugged. “They’ll get the usual fate. Interrogation until their minds crack. I pity them.”
“You betrayed them,” Catton reminded her bleakly.
She showed no sign of emotion. “I was betraying only Doveril. The rest were incidental. But Doveril is free, and they are downstairs in the interrogation chamber.”
“They’ll pick up Doveril eventually,” Catton said.
“This is doubtful. By now he’s probably hundreds of light-years from here.”
“You think so?”
“I’m sure of it. Doveril frightens easily. And news moves rapidly here.”
“Where would he be likely to run to?” the Earthman asked.
Nuuri said, “There are many worlds in the universe. He could be anywhere.”
Catton frowned for a moment. “I’m planning to make a trip to Skorg shortly. Do you think there’s any chance he might be there?”
“Skorg? Why do you go to Skorg?”
“The reason doesn’t concern you, Nuuri. I’m going on official business.”
“Hypnojewel business?” she asked curiously.
“Of course. And if I could find Doveril there—”
“Skorg is a crowded world. You’d have trouble finding anyone there.”
Catton nodded. “I’m aware of that. But there are ways of finding people.”
“I hope you find Doveril,” she said with venom in her voice. “I want to see him on Pouin Beryaal’s rack, coughing out his life as they comb his mind.”
“You hated him enough to betray five of his friends,” Catton said. “All because he crossed you in love. It’s a strong revenge, Nuuri.”
Her eyes fixed on him beadily. They were silent for a moment; then Nuuri said, “I have nothing further to say now. I will leave you.”
“Will you keep in touch with me?” he asked.
“Why should I?”
“I’m interested in wiping out the hypnojewel traffic,” Catton said. “You’ve helped me once. Possibly you can help me again.”
She shook her head. “I’m not a professional informer. I did you a service to satisfy my own desires. But I feel no yearning to betray others to you.”
“You realize that I could have you taken downstairs and put under deep probe?” he asked. “You’ve as much as admitted that you’re concealing important information that could be useful to us.”
She stared at him unwaveringly. “I realize that. Would you take me to interrogation after my service to you? Is this your reward?”
“You claimed you didn’t want a reward.”
“I want a safe-conduct out of this building as my reward. I’ve helped you once. Now let me go.”
“In a moment,” he said quietly. He glanced around the room, looking for traces of any hidden detector equipment. In a low voice he said, “I’m an Earthman, Nuuri. I’m interested in the safety and welfare of Earth.”
“So?”
“There are stories circulating in the galaxy that imply that some worlds plan an attack on Earth. I’m trying to find out if anything lies behind those stories. Will you work for me?”
“In what way?”
“Help me investigate these rumors.”
She smiled bitterly. “You aren’t satisfied with my betrayal of friends. Now you’d have me betray my world as well.”
“No betrayal is involved. I’m acting in the interests of galactic peace.”
“What do I care about galactic peace?”
“What do you care about being hauled downstairs to the interrogation room?” Catton said levelly.
She laughed. “You’ll never gain allies with threats, Catton. I won’t work for you. I’m only interested in seeing Doveril Halligon punished. Nothing else matters to me.”
“I’ll look for him on Skorg. And I apologize for seeming to threaten you. It was a mistake.”
“A man in your position isn’t permitted many mistakes,” Nuuri remarked. “But I’ll condescend to bargain with you, anyway. Let me out of this building untouched and I’ll promise to forget this entire conversation.”
“Fair enough,” Catton agreed. “You can go.”
She rose without another word and left. Catton walked to the window of the office and stared out, frowning troubledly. He realized he had probably said too much. But the girl had proven herself to be useful, and he had hoped to win her services. He needed an ally to help him uncover the facts Earth had sent him here to find; there was little hope of his finding anything alone.
The trip to Skorg was his best bet at the moment, he thought. He wondered whether anything useful had been mined out of the hapless unfortunates in the interrogation chamber. A hint as to the whereabouts of Doveril Halligon, perhaps. Doveril’s disappearance was bound to be linked to the vanishing of Ambassador Seeman’s daughter before long.
Catton returned to Beryaal’s office. The Arenaddin had now been joined by Merikh eMerikh, the Skorg delegate to the Commission. Catton and the Skorg nodded coldly at each other in formal greeting.
Catton said, “How’s the interrogation going?”
“And what’s been learned?”
“Beryaal will tell you when he returns from the interrogation. But one fact appears certain. It will not be necessary to place the prisoners on trial after the interrogation. It is too bad, but we do not expect them to live.”
Chapter Seven
Catton said nothing. These were alien worlds, where alien ideas of justice prevailed. It was not proper for him to object if the Morilaru preferred questioning their prisoners to death rather than bothering to try them. But it did indicate the sort of beings Earth was dealing with. Shrugging, Catton sat back to await the arrival of Pouin Beryaal.
The Morilaru entered the Crime Commission’s office ten minutes later. There was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.
“The interrogation is over,” Beryaal commented briskly as he took his seat at the head of the table.
“Were there any survivors?” Catton asked sardonically.
Beryaal took no notice of the Earthman’s sarcasm. “I regret to say that the prisoners died during interrogation. But we obtained much useful information from them before they succumbed.”
“I think,” said the Arenaddin slowly, “that our new colleague from Earth has done a fine job in apprehending these five. I suggest a note of commendation be forwarded to the Terran World Government.”
“The Earthman,” said eMerikh of Skorg in his hollowvoice, “has far exceeded the call of duty. Members of this Commission are not required to disguise themselves and search out the hypnojewel traders themselves.”
“I wasn’t required to do it, no,” Catton agreed. “But it seemed a good way of getting something done. How long has this Commission been in existence—and how much has it accomplished?”
The Skorg glowered balefully at him. “We have been laying the groundwork for—”
“Please,” Beryaal snapped. “We are wasting time in futile argument.”
“Suppose you tell us, then,” Catton said, “the results of the interrogation?”
“Transcripts are being prepared and will be made available to you shortly.”
Catton shook his head. “Can’t you summarize the findings without making us wait for the transcript? Was anything learned about sources of supply, ringleaders, methods of transportation, other smugglers?”
“You will see the transcript,” Beryaal replied.
The door opened and a clerk entered, bearing a sheaf of vocotyped papers. The clerk moved obsequiously around the meeting-room, placing one booklet in front of each of the Commission members.
Catton picked his up. It consisted of three or four sheets stapled together. The front page bore the date and the heading, TRANSCRIPT OF INTERROGATION CONDUCTED BY THE INTERWORLD COMMISSION OF CRIME, Pouin Beryaal, Chairman .
The Earthman flipped rapidly through the document. It said remarkably little. The names of the five prisoners were given, and the text of a series of questions-and-answers with Beryaal as interrogator.
The questions-and-answers went like this:
Q. Do you admit attempting to sell a hypnojewel to a visiting Dargonid?
A. You have proof of that.
Q. Why do you sell hypnojewels?
A. To make money.
Q. Who is the leader of your group?
A. We were all equals.
Q. But wasn’t there someone who served as contact man, as go-between, as spokesman?
A. We shared all responsibilities.
Q. And how did you obtain the jewels you sold?
A. We bought them.
Q. From whom?
A. From those who sell such things.
The entire transcript read that way. The five captives had played their torturers for fools; not once had a concrete fact been elicited. It was pathetic. The replies of the prisoners had been couched in evasions, half-truths, and truths that conveyed nothing. Nowhere in the document was there a hint as to the source of the hypnojewels, nor was there a mention of Doveril Halligon. Nuuri, Catton thought, would be fiercely angry if she ever found out that Doveril had not been implicated.
Because of his relative unfamiliarity with the printed Morilaru language, Catton was the last one to finish reading the transcript. When he had done with the final page, he looked up sharply at Beryaal.
“For this you killed five men?” Catton asked.
“They were stubborn. They would not answer.”
Catton chuckled grimly. “It doesn’t speak well for the skill of the Morilaru interrogators, in that case. Any idiot can kill a man under torture; skill is needed to extract information.”
“The Earthman is right,” protested the Arenaddin mildly. “There is remarkably little solid information in this transcript. It would seem that the prisoners led you a merry chase.”
Catton sat back, frowning. The transcript was a little too devoid of fact to suit him. It was impossible to believe that the Morilaru interrogation system was as incompetent as this report indicated. Catton knew better than to take it at face value. Certainly truth serums and deep hypnosis might have been used to draw out the name of the group’s supplier, the method used for getting the hypnojewels onto Morilar, the source from which they originated. What did they use in the interrogation, he wondered—the rack and the thumb-screw?
He could not believe that the interrogation had been as fruitless as this transcript implied. Which meant that the important data was being suppressed by Beryaal. But that made little sense. Why would the Crime Commission chairman be interested in holding back vital information from his fellow members, Catton wondered?
“It seems to me,” Catton said, “that you’ve taken five choice sources of information and wasted them, Pouin Beryaal.”
The Morilaru inclined his head amiably. “You are not satisfied with the results of our interrogation?”
“Satisfied with this? ” Catton asked, tapping the skimpy transcript. “Of course I’m not satisfied. We’ve run ourselves right into a dead end. You yourself pointed out that our job is not to track down petty jewel-runners like the ones that died today, but to cut off the hypnojewel pipeline at its source. How does this set of questions-and-answers help us do that?”
“The Earthman is being unjust,” said the Skorg, coming to Beryaal’s defense. “I was present at the interrogation; you and our Arenaddin colleague were not. I can vouch for the fact that every attempt was made to elicit information from the prisoners.”
Or else you and Beryaal are in cahoots , Catton thought. He shrugged and said, “All right. I’m not placing any charges of incompetence. I’m simply saying that I went out and got you five perfectly good sources of information, and you used them up and threw them away without getting a damned thing out of them.”
Beryaal said, “Like most Earthmen, you are overly impatient. It’s a characteristic of young and uncertain races.”
“Maybe so. If it’s a racial failing to want to get results, I plead guilty.” Catton gestured with open hands. “The job of this Commission is to smash the hypnojewel racket. I’d like to get that job done as quickly and as directly as I can.”
“Have you any immediate suggestions?” Beryaal inquired calmly.
“I have several,” Catton said. “I’ve checked carefully through the record of your past deliberations, and so far as I can figure very little has been done by way of figuring out the planet of entry for the jewels. I’m not talking about the place of origin, now—I mean the planet that funnels hypnojewels into the main stem of the galaxy. I think I have a lead on that planet’s identity.”
“Oh?” Beryaal said.
“When I was engaged in the purchase of that hypnojewel, someone let drop a remark implying that the planet where hypnojewels might be obtained from the makers was—was a major planet in this galaxy,” Catton finished, deciding at the last moment not to name the world.
“This is hearsay, is it not?” Beryaal said.
“We have a network of agents for this purpose,” remarked the Skorg.
“I realize that. I still intend to visit this planet on my own.”
“With typical Earthman energy,” Beryaal noted. “Very well; what is this planet you suspect?”
“I’ll file my report when I return,” said Catton.
Beryaal leaned forward. “It would be safer if you told us now. That way we could arrange for your protection, you see.”
“And in the event of an accident to you,” added the Skorg coldly, “we would know which planet it was you suspected. It is not wise to withhold information of such importance, Catton.”
“All right,” the Earthman said. “Be it hereby read into our records, then. I’m requesting a leave of absence from my Commission duties in order to make a journey to Skorg.”
Merikh eMerikh reacted as if he had been slapped. The thin, angular being jerked upright and goggled amazedly at Catton.
“ Skorg? You claim the hypnojewel traffic originates on Skorg?”
“I make no claims,” Catton said quietly to the outraged Skorg. “I simply want to check.”
“This accusation is perhaps a trifle rash,” Pouin Beryaal said slowly. “One must consider that crime prevention on Skorg is well organized, and that—”
“One must consider nothing,” Catton snapped. “I’m leaving for Skorg immediately. If I find anything, I’ll let you know.”
Uruod, the Arenaddin, said in his gentle voice, “It is wrong for the delegate from Skorg to take the statement of the delegate from Earth as a personal insult. The honor of Skorg is not impugned.”
Catton smiled thankfully at the blubbery Arenaddin. “I’ve made no accusations. For that matter, it might be wise to intensify investigation on Arenadd too—and on Morilar. There’s no reason to assume that these hypnojewels necessarily come from outside the galactic core. I had hoped to get some information out of the men I brought in today, but—” He gestured expressively.
The Planet Killers: Three Novels of the Spaceways (Planet Stories (Paizo Publishing) Book 32) Page 6
