“What does all this have to do with me?” Hosato asked.
“We at Ravensteel want you to penetrate the Mc. Crae complex and sabotage their works shut 'em down. We’re ready to pay ten thousand credits for the attempt, and an additional ten thousand for every month Mc. Crae is inoperative, to a maximum total of a hundred thousand credits. Are you interested?”
Hosato stared thoughtfully at the wall for several minutes before answering. There was no denying a hundred thousand credits was tempting. Still.
“What’s the law like?” he asked abruptly.
“The law?”
“The police. What kind of opposition would I be up against?”
“No police,” Reilly assured him. “Grunbecker’s Planet is a corporation world. There are no inhabitants other than corporation employees. Each of the two corporations makes and enforces its own laws.”
“All right, then, what is Mc. Crae law like?”
“Tight,” Reilly admitted. “Tight to the point of being paranoid. They live in constant fear of industrial espionage and are determined nothing is going to get away. Half the humans in the complex are security guards, and if any of them are indifferent or careless, we haven’t been able to catch 'em at it.”
Hosato pursed his lips thoughtfully. “What’s the physical layout?” he asked.
“Well, Grunbecker’s Planet itself is pretty desolate mostly sand and rock. If it wasn’t for its mineral deposits, it’s doubtful it would have been settled at ail.”
“Breathable atmosphere?”
Reilly shook his head. “No. The complex is sealed with its own life-support systems. You’d need a surface suit to survive outside the complex.”
Hosato nodded absently.
“How about the complex itself?” he asked finally.
“The Mc. Crae complex is a series of surface buildings interconnected by subterranean tunnels,” Reilly recited. “The spaceport is located on top of the Administrative Building.”
“All of it’s above the surface?”
“All except one building. The main computer building is subterranean for temperature control and security. The rest of the complex is aboveground. We can supply you with detailed maps of the layout if you accept the job.”
Hosato considered this for a few more moments.
“Okay, Reilly,” he said at last. “What’s the rest of it?”
“The rest of what?”
Hosato grimaced at him. “The rest of the story. There’s got to be more. You’ve gone to a lot of trouble to find me, and you’re offering top dollar for my services. Nothing you’ve said so far indicates a need for a specialist. There are several hundred people who could do the job for you, and do it cheaper than me— you’ve probably got a couple in your own corporation. Now, assuming Ravensteel isn’t in the habit of tossing away money on overqualified personnel, there’s something you haven’t told me—something that will make me effective where your randomly picked demolition man would fail. I want to know what that something is before I decide whether to accept or reject your offer.”
Reilly took a slow sip of his drink before replying.
“All right, Hosato. I’ll put all our cards on the table. Mc. Crae’s security is tight and I mean really tight. They’re very careful about who they let wander around their complex. Oh, they cater to tour groups, but passing visitors never get near anything vital. We think the only machines they see are do-nothing dummies rigged for show only.”
“What makes you think that?” Hosato asked.
Reilly smiled. “Because that’s what we do with tour groups at Ravensteel.”
“I see.” Hosato mentally filed away that piece of information for possible future use.
“Anyway,” Reilly continued, “the only ones who get into the depths of the complex are permanent employees. And most of the designing, manufacturing, and mining are automated, so they don’t hire many humans. Consequently, the ones they do hire are screened very carefully. New employees aren’t simply interviewed when they appear, they’re researched and then approached. Naturally, this makes infiltration a bit difficult.”
“Now, the other shoe,” Hosato prompted. “How am I supposed to break this airtight defense?”
“Like everyone else, they’ll bend the rules for a specialist. We’ve gotten information that one of the Mc. Crae executives is looking for a fencing master for his son. It was a long shot, but we figured if we could find a fencer with other shall we say ’special talents,' he might be willing to listen to a proposal from us. We started searching and found you.”
Hosato thought it through. It made sense. Fencing was an ability that couldn’t be faked or learned overnight. You either could or you couldn’t.
“We’re not really throwing you to the wolves,” Reilly added hastily. Apparently he mistook Hosato’s silence for hesitancy.
“We’re ready to provide you with a cover. We’ve begun creating a character, Samuel Hu. If you accept the assignment, we’ll plant the appropriate documents to support your credentials and bribe the proper personal references so that when you arrive on-planet you’ll have no problem clearing their security check.”
Hosato shook his head. “That won’t do at all,” he said flatly.
“Why not?”
“For one thing, Hu is a Chinese name.”
“So?” Reilly asked blankly.
“I’m Japanese… well, of Japanese descent.”
“That’s no problem.” Reilly shrugged. “I’m sure I wouldn’t know the difference. Nothing personal, but most people don’t know the difference between the various Orientals.”
Hosato decided to abandon that particular point of argument. “It still won’t work,” he insisted. “The kind of personal reference I would need couldn’t be bought. Even if you found a fencing master who would sell an endorsement, all that would mean would be that for the right price he could be convinced to change his story or simply blow the whistle.”
“So you won’t do it,” Reilly said, crestfallen.
Hosato smiled. “I didn’t say that,” he corrected. “What I said was, I wouldn’t use your cover. I’ll use my own. My family spent considerable time building my cover—several generations, in fact.” In actuality, Hosato’s family had been in “the business” nearly seven hundred years now, starting back on Old Earth in the 1500s. He reflexively suppressed this additional bit of data as- he continued. “I think it will stand up to close scrutiny a bit better than anything Ravensteel could toss together on short notice.”
“Fine.” Reilly beamed. “I’m sure that will be agreeable. If it’s all settled, then…”
Hosato held up a restraining band. “Not quite. Your original plan to establish a cover for me would have cost Ravensteel a pretty penny. Since I’m providing my own cover, I think it’s only fair that that cover money should be added to my advance fee shall we say an extra fifteen thousand credits?”
As he spoke, he was thinking about his long-awaited drink. Negotiations were nearly over.
“It’s a deal,” said Reilly. “You drive a hard bargain. You better be worth it.”
“I always give my employers satisfaction,” said Hosato thinly. With that pronouncement, he gave Reilly a curt nod and left the hotel room, in search of a more suitable drinking partner.
“Welcome to Mc. Crae Enterprises, the largest manufacturer of robots in the universe. I will be your guide for the tour, and am programmed to answer any questions you might have…”
Hosato hung back as the crowd jostled forward to snap pictures of the guide robot. It was both an amusing and an annoying habit of tourists everywhere. The guide robot was no different from any of the thousands of information robots throughout the galaxy, but the tourists would faithfully take pictures of it anyway—just as they took pictures of wastebaskets and lampposts. It seemed the only requirement for an object to be photographed was that it be located somewhere other than the tourists’ home planet.
Suzi’s control box, clipped to his wa
istband, was vibrating steadily, their prearranged signal that they were being watched. It came as no surprise to Hosato that they were under surveillance; in fact, he expected it. It was only natural that any strangers, such as tourists who had not been checked and cleared by Security, would be watched closely while they were on the premises.
He had spotted the small door off the reception area marked “Employment” as soon as they had departed the ship, but for the time being he ignored it. Instead, he loitered at the rear of the tour group, finding interest in the guide robot’s oration.
What he was actually doing was performing a personal test. Covertly studying the reception area, he attempted to identify and count the security devices at work.
The wall immediately behind the guide robot was covered by a huge mirror, doubtless one-way glass. Having the robot give his talk from that location was a clever ploy to draw the crowd into position for observation. The wicker baskets holding potted plants were a common disguise for closed-circuit cameras, giving the watchers clear view of anyone at the rear of the crowd.
He recognized the arch they had entered through as a scanning device and suspected the carpet contained sniffer-sensors to detect explosives. Despite the hospitable appearance, Mc. Crae Enterprises was tracking its visitors very carefully.
Hosato abandoned his inspection abruptly. Suzi’s scanners would provide a more accurate and complete list than he could hope to accumulate on his own. Besides, if he stalled too long, it might look suspicious.
Drawing a few curious glances from the tourists, he sauntered over to the Employment door and opened it. Suzi clung to his heels as he entered, and never faltered in her warning signal that they were still being watched.
The room was dark until he stepped onto the carpet; then the automatic lights came on, revealing a small office with a desk robot centered in the floor and a door in the far wall. Nothing happened until the door closed behind him; then the desk robot came to life.
“This is the Employment Office,” it announced politely. “The Employment Office is not part of the planned tour of our facilities. Please rejoin the tour group immediately. If you are unsure as to where the group is currently located, respond accordingly and I will provide directions as to how you may find them.”
“I’m not interested in the tour,” Hosato informed the machine. “I wish to apply for a position.”
There was the whir of a small motor, and a piece of paper slid into view on the desk.
“There are no openings at present in Mc. Crae Enterprises,” the machine informed him. “If you wish, you may fill out this form, and we will contact you if any vacancies arise.”
Hosato was growing annoyed with the robot.
“I would suggest that you check your data files again,” he said. “I was informed by Maestro Bailey that there was an opening here for a fencing instructor. I wish to apply for that position.”
There was a moment’s pause as the machine digested this information.
“Please stand by,” it said at last, and lapsed into silence.
Hosato hated to use Maestro Bailey’s name that way, but it was legitimate. Part of his preparations for this mission had been to place a series of calls to the various maestros of his acquaintance. The pattern of the conversation for these calls was an inquiry after their health and well-being as a thin disguise for a chance to gripe about the low pay and status of a professional duelist. The third call, the call to Maestro Bailey, had paid off. Bailey had been approached by Mc. Crae Enterprises to take the teaching position, but had declined. He suggested that Hosato—or as he knew him, Hayama—apply for the opening and offered to provide a personal recommendation if one were necessary.
It provided Hosato with a valid method for having heard about the opening, but it also had its drawbacks. He disliked using one of his cover-identity friends in his espionage-sabotage missions. If he were discovered, Maestro Bailey could be indirectly implicated as an accomplice.
The far door opened and a pert young redhead stood silhouetted there. Hosato made a mental note: If she was a robot, he’d buy one.
“If you could step this way, Mr…?”
“Hayama,” Hosato provided politely.
“Yes. Sorry for the delay, but we don’t get many off-the-ship applicants.”
“Off-the-ship applicants?” he queried.
“Applicants who pop up on our doorstep in person,” she explained. “Usually they send resume’s ahead or call for an appointment. It’s rude to keep you waiting like that, but it is an unusual situation for us.”
“That’s quite all right,” he assured her, starting forward, with Suzi following closely.
“Oh. I’m sorry. Your robot will have to wait here until it’s cleared by Security.”
Hosato removed the control box from his waistband and fiddled with the dials for a moment. Suzi sarcastically took up a position in a corner of the room.
“What make robot is that?” the girl inquired as she led him down a narrow corridor.
“It’s a custom job,” Hosato informed her. “Nobody produces a stock fencing robot. Not enough demand, I guess.”
“It’s not one of ours, is it?”
“No,” Hosato admitted. “But it’s not one of Raven-steers, either.”
“That’s good.” She laughed. “If it was, Security would dismantle it before they let it in, if they let it in at all.”
The girl opened a door off the corridor and led Hosato into a small office. It was obviously intended for interviewing rather than permanent occupation, since it was tiny to the point of being claustrophobic.
“Have a seat,” she said casually, plopping down at the desk-robot that dominated the room.
Hosato glanced at the chair as he sat down. It was a disguised polygraph—a lie detector. Mc. Crae Enterprises didn’t miss a trick.
“Your name again was…?”
“Hayama,” Hosato said easily.
“And your purpose here is…?”
“To apply for the fencing instructor position.”
Hosato wasn’t worried about the chair. Lie detectors scanned for changes in respiration or pulse rate when a subject was surprised by a question or nervous about an answer. His Hayama cover was so natural to him he could rattle it off without batting an eye.
The girl keyed some information into the robot, and in a few moments it responded by producing a sheet of paper half-filled with notations. She scanned it briefly before turning to Hosato again.
“What do you feel your qualifications are for this position, Mr. Hayama?”
“I’ve fenced for more than fifteen years now, and studied under eight maestros.”
“Would you say you are an expert fencer?” she prompted.
“Good enough to survive eight years as a professional duelist.” He smiled.
“Do you have your maestro’s certification?”
“No, I don’t,” he admitted.
The girl frowned. “The job requirements state maestro’s certification is preferred,” she commented.
“Of course,” Hosato replied lightly. “But I doubt if you’ll get one.”
“Mc. Crae Enterprises pays very well for expertise.” She smiled confidently.
“That may be so,” he said. “But there are fewer than a dozen maestros today, and all of them are very devoted to promoting fencing. It’s doubtful they would abandon their current students to devote their time to one boy.”
The girl stared thoughtfully at the sheet of paper. Hosato decided to play his trump card.
“I suppose it depends on what you’re looking for. Do you want someone to teach the boy to fence in tournaments, or do you want him to learn how to handle a sword in a fight?”
“I don’t know,” the girl admitted. “This position is a bit out of the ordinary. If you wait here, I’ll try to contact Mr. Turner. He’s the one requesting the position. If he approves it, you’ve got the job.”
* * *
It was two hours before Turner ap
peared, but when he did, he swept into the room like a small tornado. Turner was in his late forties, with a noticeable paunch that showed despite the careful tailoring of his suit. Still, there was an aura of energy that surrounded him like a cloud and shone brightly in his eyes. A slender dark girl slid into the room in his wake and leaned lazily against the wall.
“Harry Turner, Mr. Hayama,” the man announced, seizing Hosato’s hand and pumping it once. “Sorry to keep you waiting, but I was tied up.”
Hosato smiled vaguely, content to watch Turner’s show. He wondered who the girl was.
“Right off the bat, we’ve got a problem. I hate to say it after you’ve come all this way, but the position’s fallen through. It seems my kid, James, doesn’t like this idea of mine any more than he’s liked any of the other suggestions I’ve made. In fact, all of a sudden he’s dead set against learning to fence. You know how it is with kids these days, you try to give 'em things and they throw it back in your face.”
Hosato held up a restraining hand. “I may have a solution to both our problems, Mr. Turner. It could solve the question of whether or not your son will accept lessons as well as if I am qualified to teach him.”
“What’s that?” Turner asked.
“Let me give the boy one lesson free of charge. If I can rouse his interest, then we can discuss a permanent arrangement.”
“A trial period. That’s a possibility.”
“It sounds good to me, Harry,” the dark girl said, breaking her silence. “It’d give us a chance to run a check on Mr. Hayama, here.”
“Okay, Sasha. Oh. I’m sorry. Mr. Hayama, this is Sasha. She’s head of our Security section.”
Hosato swiveled around and smiled politely at the girl. Actually, it wasn’t that hard to smile at her. She was attractive, in her mid- to late twenties. Her dark hair was drawn up into a severe bun, but her jumpsuit hugged her curves, accenting her slender figure. It would have been pleasant meeting her, if it wasn’t for her eyes. Her eyes were dark and suspicious as they met Hosato’s. She didn’t return-his smile.
Mirror Friend, Mirror Foe Page 3
