He had his paperwork done. The digital counters he used for eyes were rolling. The crocodile smile stretched his lips. He was changing his role to salesman. “The Central Credit Card Bureau also added a personal note about you, Miss. According to Squeeza reports you always use only limousine service. So when you are through with your coiffure appointment and you have been dressed and the rest is ready to go, we insist you take our president’s limousine into town. The limousine stewardess needs to be told what brand of drink you would care for on the tedious ride.”
“Hot jolt,” said the Countess promptly.
The accounts manager wrote down, “Bavarian Mocha Mint, dash of champagne.” Inventive fellow, used to catering to the bizarre denizens of the upper crust.
“Now I must inform you,” he said, “of a new service this branch of Bonbucks Teller has instituted. It is called ‘Central Credit Card Spree Buying Titillating Rare and Common Commodity Procurement Service for the Rich Lady Who Is Too Busy to Go Rooting Crassly About in Stores.’” He gave her a golden card with a phone number embossed on it. “Now that we have met you and established your identity and acquired your gracious patronage, this service is yours to command.”
She hadn’t put the golden card in her pocket so he delicately reached across and made sure that it got there. “We are trying to cure the public impression that this branch of Bonbucks Teller is out in the woods. For we, here next to the mighty jets of JFK, are an open door to all the stores of the world. Our motto is ‘Serve the Ladies at Any Cost No Matter How Great.’ We can spare you the tedium of browsing through Tiffany’s. We can get you furs from Siberia or a special Rolls-Royce off the British assembly line in the flicker of an eye and send it straight to you. You don’t need to undergo these boorish formalities again with us. Just call the number on the golden card and the charge will at once be picked up by Squeeza and added to their monthly bill. All so simple. Just a call and state your heart’s desire.”
He stood up. Her hairdresser was twisting curlers at the door, waiting to escort her to his salon on the roof.
The accounts manager took both her hands in his. He squeezed her fingers fervently. “It is SUCH a pleasure to do business with a customer who, by every report, has credit that is absolutely UNLIMITED!”
During his speeches I had been wildly thinking of some way to invalidate the signature, invalidate the card, point out that a HORRIBLE mistake had been made. It had begun to be borne in upon me that I could not without exposing my true hostility to the Countess Krak and my actual intentions for her and Heller. They would kill me out of hand!
But at those horrible words, “credit that is absolutely UNLIMITED,” I lost all grip on hopes and senses.
My supply of adrenalin was all used up.
I fainted dead away!
And as I sank into the swirling mists, a voice seemed to be echoing hollowly as in a tomb. It was my own, telling her to “Buy! Buy! Buy!” that very morning. I had unwittingly sealed my own doom.
I still owed them hundreds of thousands. I didn’t have a penny to my name. And I had no slightest channel here on Earth to get any.
The house would be seized. The staff would be sold. But not only that, even I would find myself on the auction block, being bought most likely by an Arab who thought more of camels than his slaves. And thus a nightmare shattered any peace the unconsciousness could bring: I was an auctioneer shouting “Buy! Buy! Buy!” as I sold myself time and again to masters far more cruel than the Manco devils: the credit companies!
PART THIRTY-SIX
Chapter 7
It was evening in New York.
Assured by the elevator operator that Mr. Jet, as Heller was popularly known, was still in his office, Krak tipped magnificently the chauffeur, stewardess and building porters via just mentioning the number of the credit card—which they probably already knew from Utanc. The amount made them blink and me go faint again. Finally, they all withdrew and left Krak with a mountainously piled, four-wheel handcart before the door.
She had arrived!
She looked at her reflection in the gloss of the hall wall. She took off a fur cap, threw it on the cart and fluffed her hair. She straightened up her Blackgama mink cape. She looked closely at her reflection where the cup had now been removed. She was satisfied.
She took a long deep breath. I could hear her heart thudding heavily. She swallowed. She lifted her chin. She opened the door and let it swing wide. She stood there.
Heller was at his desk, open books between his two hands.
He looked up.
He stared.
He couldn’t believe it! His mouth opened.
He muttered, “Am I dreaming?”
The Countess Krak had a little trouble speaking. She said, “You’re not dreaming, Jettero. It’s me.”
Heller leaped from his chair. He came around the desk and began to run toward her.
She ran forward to meet him.
They came together in a crush of embraces in the center of the room.
After a savage clench, they both began to cry.
They just stood there, holding each other, crying!
Minutes went by. They did not do anything or say anything. They just stood there holding on to each other, sobbing!
Finally, her voice muffled by his shoulder, she said, “Then you didn’t fall in love with a thousand beautiful women!”
“No, no,” he said huskily. “I put you on my pillow every night. I have only dreamed of you.”
They kissed.
My screen went into a wild blur, wiped out! Even the sound went. Carbon-oxygen power surge and two sets of bugs too close together.
At last they moved reluctantly apart. Heller put her gently in a chair. He went out in the hall and pushed the hugely piled cart into the office. He closed the door.
Heller came back and knelt beside her. She was drying her eyes with a lace handkerchief. Then she swabbed at his. She laughed shakily.
He laughed. Then he said, his voice heavy with emotion, “I don’t dare talk about how glad I am to see you. It’s like the skies suddenly opened and you just materialized. How did the Gods bring you here?”
“Soltan sent for me.”
“But how did you know where I was?”
She said, “He told me.”
“But how did you get away from Spiteos?”
“Lombar sent me. There are no trained acts, now. There aren’t even any freaks. Lombar is engrossed in other things and has no time for them. So he sent me to help you out. He said you were overworking. And you asked for a cellologist so he sent Crobe.”
“That crazy Dr. Crobe? Where is he?”
She said, “I think Soltan is holding him for a while. On the ship he wasn’t studying English much. I tried to help him but he said why talk to somebody when you were just going to cut out their tongues anyway. My guess is that Soltan is holding on to him until he learns English.”
“Soltan knew the address of this office?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” said Heller, “you got here safely and you are beautiful and I love you. And with that we’ve covered everything important.”
They suddenly were hugging again. Finally they separated and looked at each other’s faces.
The Countess Krak said, “Oh, darling, I missed you, missed you so! It seemed like years and years and years. A whole lifetime. Two lifetimes. Please don’t let’s separate again. I can’t stand it!” She started to cry again and was swabbing at her nose with her lace handkerchief.
Heller said, miserably, “I am sorry. I really am. I wanted to finish this mission fast and come home to you. But I’ve not been very lucky and there have been delays. It’s kind of a tough planet.”
The Countess Krak suddenly put her hands on his shoulders. “Listen. I have a wonderful surprise for you. I promised not to tell you what it is and I won’t. But just realize it is terribly good for both of us.”
I flinched. She was talking about the “Royal” forgeries.
Her “pardon” and his “future” of no dangerous missions. It was typical of her (bleeped) perfidy that she would keep her word to me and not tell him. If she only would, I could get them traced and destroy them. But in any event, if those “documents” were ever presented, not only Krak but also probably Heller would be executed. I did not want to be a third member of that electric-jolt party! These two had to be stopped!
Heller said, “Sounds interesting. I accept your word that it is good for us.”
The Countess Krak said, “Not just good but marvelous beyond our wildest dreams! So let’s get busy and wind up this mission to a rocket success and get home.”
Oh, Gods. My sending her was having exactly the opposite effect to what was intended. Even Lombar had told her Heller was working too hard and she was paying no attention to that! Oh, Gods, with all my other troubles, they really had to be slowed to nothing. If I could delay them long enough, then word would come and with a few shots I could kill them both. I prayed. Please, please, Gods of evil, intervene for once on my side. How could I slow them? If I only had money. If I could only get rid of other crises, maybe I could do it. Not maybe. I had to, for it meant my life.
Heller was showing her the office now. “At least we have a working base,” he was saying. “Until the next rent day. Here is the secretary’s boudoir and some closets. Over here is a “thinking room” with a couch where I sleep. Over there is the bath. This is the bar and the only ‘kitchen.’ It’s all the home I’ve got right now. It will have to do, I guess.”
“Have to do!” said the Countess Krak, until recently a prisoner in stone cubicles in Spiteos. “It’s a palace!”
Her eyes lighted on the cat which was sitting on the desk eyeing them. She said, “Who is this?”
Heller said, “Oh, that’s the cat.”
The cat dropped down off the desk and came over and sat down in front of her, looking at her interestedly.
She said, “Doesn’t he have a name?”
Heller said, “He’s kind of a shady character. He won’t tell us.”
The Countess took off her cape and threw it on a chair. She knelt down and looked at the cat. She said to it, “The thing to do is to take an alias that isn’t in the Domestic Police computers. Would you like to do that?”
The cat began to purr loudly as it sat there, looking at her. The silly wench. She was talking to it in Voltarian and it was an Earth cat.
Heller said, “He’s very particular about his associates. He usually just spits at or ignores anybody but me and Bang-Bang, our driver. He’s taken to you, but, of course, who wouldn’t?”
“What kind of a cat are you?” said the Countess Krak.
Heller said, “He’s an African cat. You can tell because he’s white with black and orange patches. They’re supposed to be great fighters. They’re awfully smart and they bring good luck—don’t you, cat? Oh, also, they’re called calicoes.”
“So he does have a name,” said the Countess. “Mister Calico. You like that name?”
The cat purred.
“All right,” said the Countess Krak, kneeling there in front of the silly cat, “let’s see how smart you are. How much is two and two?”
The cat was watching her finger. Krak had extended it at a point between the cat’s eyes. Krak now took her finger and tapped it four times on the floor in front of the cat.
The cat lifted its paw and tapped the floor four times!
I watched this with considerable dismay. I did not want to believe her reputation that she could train anything to do anything. She was dangerous enough without that ability. But then, it was just coincidence.
“Very good,” said the Countess Krak. “Mister Calico, how much is two and two?”
The cat solemnly tapped his paw four times on the floor!
Krak laughed with delight. She picked up the cat and petted it.
Heller said, “Hey, we’ve got an adding machine. Why don’t you teach him something useful?”
The Countess said, “That I will!”
Heller said, “Well, he doesn’t know how to unpack for you yet, so let’s get you moved in.”
She put the cat down with a stroke of its fur and went over to help Heller unload the cart. They started to handle some boxes and then they dropped them and came together and just stood there in each other’s arms.
Heller said, “I can’t believe you’re here.”
And then they both started crying again.
After a long time, she said, “We’ve got to get busy and go home and get married and have kids and live happily ever after, Jettero. I really just came down here to bring you home. We’re getting older. We will be fully grown-up in another few years. We can’t risk it on a dangerous planet like this.”
“I agree,” said Heller. “It’s no planet for a delicate lady. We’ll get busy at once.”
What little remained of my faint hopes went glimmering. This time she wouldn’t slow him down. She’d work like mad to speed him up.
Gods help all of us. But namely me. The Countess Krak was loosed upon Earth!
Between them, if I didn’t stop it, this pair would salvage the planet, bankrupt Rockecenter and ruin Lombar forevermore.
Only the thin, frail reed of me could prevent it. And I was a penniless, shattered wreck, afraid even to go home.
PART THIRTY-SIX
Chapter 8
Weary nigh unto death, shocked and drained to the dregs of human depression, I stood in the interview room of the hospital, dully pondering where I could go.
I needed a hole to crawl into. One that I could pull in after me. Even that was a short-term solution. I knew that Fate would get to me in the end.
But I could not stay here. The very environment was traumatic.
A hole. Some of the spacecrew quarters in the subterranean Afyon mountain base were more like a hole than a room. Utanc would be unable to find me there. At least I would have refuge from the ferocity she would exhibit when she found her favorite locket gone.
Having no money, now that my wallet was missing, I very much doubted if I could stretch my credit further with the taxi driver.
The hospital was a tomb of silence. It must be getting on to three o’clock in the morning. This is the hour of lowest human vitality: most people die at such a time of day. I wondered if it might not be the best thing to do after all.
I packed up the viewer in a haphazard way. I somehow got into my bearskin coat and found it strangely clumsy. I crept outside into the night and stumbled down the long, dark road.
It was cold, bitter cold. The wind, with a mournful dirge, played the funeral song of my passage.
It was quite impossible to stand up against those two. I had no money. I would soon be swept away by the credit companies. Lombar’s unknown assailant would not be long in finding out the true state of affairs and his dagger would not lag.
Chilled and numb, I came at last to the workman’s barracks. I passed into the secret tunnel. I finally came to the tunnel end just outside the office of the guard captain. I was surprised to see him at his desk.
I had, of course, activated the panel lights just by entering the tunnel.
“There you are!” said the guard captain, somewhat in the tones of a German police dog surprised by a suspicious stranger. “Where the Hells have you been? Come in here!”
I was standing in the pool of green light that they use to target intruders just before they shoot them down. An uncomfortable place. Too much in public view. I found the energy to shuffle forward into his office and get my back defensively against a wall.
“The order,” he said. “Where the Devils is the order? I can’t detain that crazy doctor that came in on the Blixo without a detention order. You’ve been missing two nights and a day! I was going to turn him loose at dawn if I didn’t get authority to hold him.” He was banging his fist down on an unstamped sheet.
Oh, Gods. Miserable as I was, the thought of Dr. Crobe getting loose upon Afyon made me reel. That would be a
ll it would take to escalate my condition to terminal heart failure.
I grabbed spastically at my pockets for my identoplate. I couldn’t get into my pockets.
The guard captain snorted. “You’ve got your fur coat on backwards, Gris.”
I looked down. It was true. In my dull condition, I had donned it back to front. No wonder the walk had been cold.
I somehow got the coat off. It fell to the floor. I fumbled around and found my identoplate. I stamped the order two or three times just to make sure it was making an impression. I was pretty shaky.
The chill of the hangar was biting into me. I put the identoplate back in my pocket somehow. I reached over and tried to pick up the coat.
After a couple of ineffectual plucks, I got hold of a corner of the coat and lifted it. I couldn’t make out what part of it I had hold of. I rotated the whole thing and found I now had it upside down.
PLOP. PLINK.
The guard captain said, “My Gods, Officer Gris, are you drunk or something?”
I looked at him. He was pointing at the floor.
THE LOCKET!
THE WALLET!
In my dazed condition I stared at them stupidly on the floor. I was still holding the bearskin coat upside down. I looked at the coat.
It had an inside breast pocket I never knew had existed! The locket and wallet had fallen out of it!
Dazedly I tried to account for it. And then I remembered that when I had paid the excess baggage check, I had put my wallet back into what I thought had been my tunic breast pocket. But by the evidence before me, I must have stuffed it into the bearskin coat instead. The stuffing process must have caught the locket chain and snapped it and the locket had been stuffed into the pocket along with the wallet!
I was stunned. I hadn’t known of this pocket. And furthermore, I thought only kangaroos had pockets, not bears!
I picked up the wallet. All the remaining $880 I had taken of their travel money was there.
Mission Earth Volume 5: Fortune of Fear Page 5
