The Invaders Plan

"There is only one trouble," I said.

She looked at me with abrupt attention.

I said, smoothly, "Jettero will probably not take to being cast out of the Fleet. You know how he is. It would mean almost death to him." She considered it. She knew it was not without truth.

I went on, "So this is where I need your help. I am the mission handler and these documents are supposed to be known only to me. I am afraid Jettero will balk or try to see friends and get all this modified. It would make the Emperor furious. It would put Jettero in grave danger." She could see that.

"Now, let's be reasonable," I said. "This is an easy mission, nothing dangerous about it. The sooner he goes, the sooner he will return. The help I need is for you, without telling him anything about these documents, to persuade him to go, to quickly complete the mission and get back. You have to use all your wiles. You can't use these documents. Can I have that help?" I watched her, my face betraying nothing of Heller's real future.

The Countess Krak thought it over very carefully. "I will do it on one condition." I waited.

"If," she said, "you let me hold those documents myself, I will do my best to persuade Jettero to leave as soon as possible and get back quickly." It brought me no surprise. I had actually thought it might occur and the dangers to me of these documents being exposed was, I thought, minimal. Actually, I took a sort of glee in her having on her these forgeries. Like I was putting a big death stamp right in the middle of her lovely forehead. (Bleep) her.

"If," I said, in my turn, "you give me your solemn word that you will not show them to Heller, that you will not mention them to him, then you can hold them. But," I said, quite factually but with double meaning, "there is danger in it for you. They are Royal documents and a person in your legal status would be imperilled by their possession."

"There is a chance," she said, "that you might, shall we say, misplace them? I think it is safer that I hold them, don't you, Soltan? Then they will appear when needed." I shook my head sadly. "You should trust me more. I don't want to see Heller hurt." Ah, well, she thought she knew that.

She took the waterproof packet, verified the documents were still in there, closed it all up and strapped it to her body and pulled down her jumper over it. It made no slightest bulge.

Then she looked at me. "I have to say thank you, Soltan. You deserve my gratitude." She was thanking me for putting a knife in her heart.

I left.

All the way back to Government City I actively had to suppress shouting and laughing exultantly. It sort of put flavoring on the bun to also think of an additional power I now had. One word from me to search her and she'd be tortured and killed by experts because of what they'd find. That wasn't part of the plan. It was just a bit of perfume wafting up.

I controlled myself with effort. I had a lot to do now. A lot to do! This was only the begi

Chapter 8

We flew directly to Communication Complex Towers. There is no place that has more traffic, as everyone knows. Air, ground, pedestrian, tens of thousands of people move through it every day, paying their communication bills, arranging for new Homeview service, placing difficult calls to the next i

Heller was going to get operated on and bugged – real good!

My driver muttered and complained his way along the tight traffic cha

I was busy in the bag. I took a second set of top-row teeth out of my pocket and put it under my upper lip. I popped color shifters into my eyes so instead of brown they would be bright green. I took off my rank locket and put it in my pocket.

The driver had us in under the dome overhang and into a slot that said, Ten minutes! This Means YOU!

He said, "Don't you be too long or I'll get a fender bash from the local bluebottles!"

"Before much longer, you're going to be rich," I said. "So shut up."

"Hey," he said, suddenly interested. "You go

I sauntered in. Actually there were no more than one or two thousand enquirers and there were a lot of empty interview chairs. I was looking for a female clerk that could turn out to be a complete nitwit. Somebody really dumb. I found her simply by the fact that other customers were avoiding her counter area. This would not take long.

"We have an emergency," I said. "We need the absolute topauthority on cellology in Voltar." Her hair was done up in a tall peak like a temple. Probably that was the shape of her skull underneath. I had to explain what a cellologist was. She punched it out on her keyboard and the symbols appeared on the desk top before her, upside down to me. I can read upside down. Anybody in the Apparatus can.

"You want his communications number?" said vacuum brain. That's what they do in Central Directory.

"I have to make sure he's the top authority first. Do you mind?" I reached over across the desk top to the key ranks. I started punching and this lunkhead just sat there interestedly watching me.

You can strip down a lot of data from these communication information consoles. They run off whole categories of professions as well as businesses. They tell you where this or that person can be reached right then if he is in the habit of inspecting calls. To keep from confusing this person with that, they give full identoplate data. And in case the person wants some new service, they give his credit rating.

It was nursery school stuff to get all the senior teaching cellologists on Voltar, to get their credit ratings – which is an index to how high up they are in a profession – to get the listed full identoplate data of these top ones, where they were right this minute and to get every bit of that data rolled off and delivered.

Temple-skull just sat and watched me operate her machine backwards. Maybe she was learning how to use it. Who knows?

When I had the stack of sheets, I said, "Oh, dear! These will be much too expensive!" There was no such data on any sheet I had pulled but chuckle-wit nodded wisely. Where do they find these girls? Back country of Taugo? Where the men have tails?

I punched in cellologists who had very recently had new office service installed, which meant they had just completed all their training, had passed all examinations of qualification. Then I got their full credit backgrounds including histories and origins. Then I got their identoplates. It was a foot-high stack.

"Now do you want someone's communication number?" said marvel-wit.

I had a foot and a half stack of closely packed print sheets. I put them under my arm. "You gave it to me," I said. "And I do thank you. You have been so much help. You should be promoted." I had caught a supervisor looking over in that direction and my pleasant attitude to the girl said that everything was fine.

I left, jubilant. I had a full intelligence survey of the profession. And without a single trace or show of my identoplate.

Heller was going to be bugged and, by my extensive plan, neither he nor anyone else would know it except me. A bugged man is wholly at one's mercy.

There was no bluebottle in sight. But my driver said, "You took long enough!"

"For a creature of impending wealth, you whine too much. Fly up in the sky to some blank spot and hover."

"That's paper. That ain't money. You didn't rob anybody."

"Give it twenty-four hours," I said. "Now get going before I bash your fenders myself!" In the quiet of ten thousand feet above the lanes, I removed my disguise and sorted out my finds.