"I take it," Retief said, "that the casino is a front for his political
activities."
"He makes plenty off it. This PAFFL is a new kick. I never heard about
it until maybe a couple months ago."
Retief motioned toward a dark shed with an open door.
"We'll stop here," he said, "long enough to strip the gadgets off these
uniforms."
Illy, hands strapped behind his back, stood by and watched as Retief and
Magnan removed medals, ribbons, orders and insignia from the formal
diplomatic garments.
"This may help some," Retief said, "if the word is out that two
diplomats are loose."
"It's a breeze," Illy said. "We see cats in purple and orange tailcoats
all the time."
"I hope you're right," Retief said. "But if we're called, you'll be the
first to go, Illy."
"You're a funny kind of Nenni," Illy said, eyeing Retief, "Toscin and
Vug must be wonderin' what happened to 'em."
"If you think I'm good at drowning people, you ought to see me with a
knife. Let's get going."
"It's only a little way now," Illy said. "But you better untie me.
Somebody's liable to stick their nose in and get me killed."
"I'll take the chance. How do we get to the casino?"
"We follow this street. It twists around and goes under a couple
tunnels. When we get to the Drunkard's Stairs we go up and it's right in
front of us. A pink front with a sign like a big Luck Wheel."
"Give me your belt, Magnan," Retief said.
Magnan handed it over.
"Lie down, Illy," Retief said.
The servant looked at Retief.
"Vug and Toscin will be glad to see me," he said. "But they'll never
believe me." He lay down. Retief strapped his feet together and stuffed
a handkerchief in his mouth.
"Why are you doing that?" Magnan asked. "We need him."
"We know the way. And we don't need anyone to announce our arrival. It's
only on three-dee that you can march a man through a gang of his pals
with a finger in his back."
Magnan looked at the man. "Maybe you'd better, uh, cut his throat," he
said.
Illy rolled his eyes.
"That's a very un-Nenni-like suggestion, Mr. Magnan," Retief said. "If
we have any trouble finding the casino, I'll give it serious thought."
There were few people in the narrow street. Shops were shuttered,
windows dark.
"Maybe they heard about the coup," Magnan said. "They're lying low."
"More likely, they're at the palace picking up their knives."
They rounded a corner, stepped over a man curled in the gutter snoring
heavily and found themselves at the foot of a long flight of littered
stone steps.
"The Drunkard's Stairs are plainly marked," Magnan sniffed.
"I hear sounds up there," Retief said. "Sounds of merrymaking."
"Maybe we'd better go back."
"Merrymaking doesn't scare me," Retief said. "Come to think of it, I
don't know what the word means." He started up, Magnan behind him.
* * * * *
At the top of the long stair a dense throng milled in the alley-like
street.
A giant illuminated roulette wheel revolved slowly above them. A
loudspeaker blared the chant of the croupiers from the tables inside.
Magnan and Retief moved through the crowd toward the wide-open doors.
Magnan plucked at Retief's sleeve. "Are you sure we ought to push right
in like this? Maybe we ought to wait a bit, look around...."
"When you're where you have no business being," Retief said, "always
stride along purposefully. If you loiter, people begin to get curious."
Inside, a mob packed the wide, low-ceilinged room, clustered around
gambling devices in the form of towers, tables and basins.
"What do we do now?" Magnan asked.
"We gamble. How much money do you have in your pockets?"
"Why ... a few credits." Magnan handed the money to Retief. "But what
about the man Zorn?"
"A purple cutaway is conspicuous enough, without ignoring the tables,"
Retief said. "We've got a hundred credits between us. We'll get to Zorn
in due course, I hope."
"Your pleasure, gents," a bullet-headed man said, eyeing the colorful
evening clothes of the diplomats. "You'll be wantin' to try your luck at
the Zoop tower, I'd guess. A game for real sporting gents."
"Why ... ah ..." Magnan said.
"What's a zoop tower?" Retief asked.
"Out-of-towners, hey?" The bullet-headed man shifted his dope-stick to
the other corner of his mouth. "Zoop is a great little game. Two teams
of players buy into the pot. Each player takes a lever; the object is to
make the ball drop from the top of the tower into your net. Okay?"
"What's the ante?"
"I got a hundred-credit pot workin' now, gents."