The Gripping Hand

"More or less. I'll keep Bury's household posted as best I can. This is what I do,"

"Anything else to report?"

Re

"First, you get this recording off to Sector. You do understand that no one on this planet sees it first?"

"Give me a little credit-"

"Oh, I've always known that beauty and brains go together. There are implications, you know."

"Lots of them," Ruth said. "Kevin, have you thought this through? The True Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter Day Saints has power. And a lot of members. If you're threatening it..."

"They'll have plenty of gunmen. Sure. Now think about what we could be doing to threaten that Church,"

"I did. So far I got nothing."

"Me either," Re

Shopping centers had never come into vogue on the Purchase. Big and little shops were scattered through the city, a sudden surprise among the houses,

Here: four huge rock slabs leaned against each other at the tops, with window glass in narrow triangles where the rock didn't meet. The boutique was a block from the Pitchfork River, in a neighborhood that had once been fashionable and was now getting to be again. Kevin Re

He walked in. Chimes sounded above his head,

He paid little attention to the cookware, lamps, rifles. Here was a row of glittering white pipes with amber bits, and one, isolated, that was fiery opal in a black matrix, Some were carved in intricate fashion: faces, animals, and one flattened tube shaped like an Imperial skip-glide fighter,

A short, muscular, balding man emerged from somewhere aft. His eyes sca

"Too right. What kind of prices do these things carry? The black one, for instance,"

"Oh, no, sir. That's a used pipe. Mine. After I close up, then it comes out of the case. It's there for display."

"Um. How long..."

The old man had it out on the counter. It had been carved into a face, a lovely woman's face. Long, wavy hair ran down the bit. "I've been smoking Giselle here for twenty-six years. But it doesn't take that long. A year, year and a half, the matrix will blacken up nicely. Longer for the larger pipes."

"Longer if I like switching pipes, too. How-"

"You'll find you smoke just the one pipe at home, sir. Opal meerschaum doesn't go stale after a few thousand puffs. Briar is what you'll take on trips."

Interesting. You took the cheaper pipes on trips, of course, and the little ones. Big pipes were more awkward but smoked better. But most of the pipes in view were pocket-size.

"Do you keep the bigger ones somewhere else?"

"No, sir, this is all we have,"

"Mmm, That big one?"

"Nine hundred crowns." The proprietor moved it to the counter. It was an animal's head, vaguely elephantine.

"That's high. I've seen better carving," Re

"On opal meerschaum?"

Well, no. Is it difficult to carve?"

The old man smiled. "Not really. Local talent. It may be you'd want to buy a blank, like this." It was bigger yet, with a bowl bigger than Re

"How much?"

"Thirteen fifty."

It wasn't Kevin's money. Very little of what passed through his fingers was Kevin's money. There would be a Navy pension, and he might be in Bury's will... but this would be charged to expenses. Nonetheless Kevin shook his head and said, "Wow."

"Higher on other worlds. Much higher. And the value goes up as you smoke it," The man hesitated, then said, "Twelve hundred."

"Would you go a thousand?"

"No. Look into some other stores. Come back if you change your mind."

"Rape it, Sell me that, Do you have tobacco, too?" Kevin handed over his pocket computer and waited while the proprietor verified the transfer, wrapped the pipe, handed it across. And added a tin of local tobacco, gratis.

Kevin knew what he wanted to ask next... and suddenly knew that he didn't have to. He just gri

"Well, how does it come in?"

"Private fliers. Men go out and come back with the stone. Are you thinking that they could be made to talk?"

"Well..."

"There are criminal elements in Pitchfork River. They don't control the opal meerschaum and never have. My suppliers say they don't know where it comes from; they always bought it from somewhere else. I've heard it so often I'm begi

"Too bad."

"You won't find a shop that sells only the opal meerschaum. It's sporadic. There hasn't been a new source in twenty years, that's why it's so high. Some of us think it comes from the north. The north is more geologically active, and the fliers mostly go out in that direction."

"But he was willing to bargain," Re

He put the computer away. The taxi settled and let him out. He was in a narrow wedge of manicured forest, in Ta

Across the bridge: the spill. It wasn't quite a slum; but the houses crowded too close, and potholes and broken lightstrips weren't repaired at once, and the crime rate was high. Re

That sign: THE MAGUEY WORM, on a tall concrete building painted in garish murals. Surely that was where he had fried his brains, night before last? Not that it mattered much. Re

Midafternoon. Not much of a crowd: four at the bar, two at a big table, all men. Working men, by their look: comfortable, durable clothes. Re

There are those who prey on tourists. But nobody made a move. He might have been invisible. Re

Staring is a universal insult, and nobody was; but others had become aware of his existence, Re

"I wouldn't know," the bartender said, and a brawny guy two chairs down said, "Amen." He was wearing several layers of clothing, like the hunters of two nights ago. Geared for cold, wearing it all because it was the easiest way to carry it.

Re

"Smoking's allowed in the Maguey Worm," The bartender jerked his thumb upward, at the high ceiling and slowly turning fans. "Go ahead, it'll give the place a bit of class. I'm told you should be drinking skellish with that, for the taste. Or B and B."

"Pour me a skellish, then, bubble on the side. A round for the house. You, too."

"The house thanks you," the bartender said.

"Amen," said six customers, and the house became busy.

One of the hunters raised his glass to Re

"Wednesday," the bartender said, "We don't get a lot of offplanet trade here," His voice was friendly, but it held a question.

Re

The hunter came over to Re