"Thacher?"
"Gin and tonic."
"Whiskey and water for me, also," Erickson said. The robot attendant
went off. It returned at once with the drinks, setting them on the table.
Each took his own. "Well," Erickson said, holding his glass up. "To our
mutual success."
* * * * *
All drank, Thacher and the three of them, heavy-set Erickson, Mara, her
eyes nervous and alert, Jan, who had just come. Again a look passed
between Mara and Erickson, a look so swift that he would not have caught
it had he not been looking directly at her.
"What line do you represent, Mr. Erickson?" Thacher asked.
Erickson glanced at him, then down at the sample case on the floor. He
grunted. "Well, as you can see, I'm a salesman."
Thacher smiled. "I knew it! You get so you can always spot a salesman
right off by his sample case. A salesman always has to carry something
to show. What are you in, sir?"
Erickson paused. He licked his thick lips, his eyes blank and lidded,
like a toad's. At last he rubbed his mouth with his hand and reached
down, lifting up the sample case. He set it on the table in front of
him.
"Well?" he said. "Perhaps we might even show Mr. Thacher."
They all stared down at the sample case. It seemed to be an ordinary
leather case, with a metal handle and a snap lock. "I'm getting
curious," Thacher said. "What's in there? You're all so tense. Diamonds?
Stolen jewels?"
Jan laughed harshly, mirthlessly. "Erick, put it down. We're not far
enough away, yet."
"Nonsense," Erick rumbled. "We're away, Jan."
"Please," Mara whispered. "Wait, Erick."
"Wait? Why? What for? You're so accustomed to--"
"Erick," Mara said. She nodded toward Thacher. "We don't know him,
Erick. Please!"
"He's a Terran, isn't he?" Erickson said. "All Terrans are together in
these times." He fumbled suddenly at the catch lock on the case. "Yes,
Mr. Thacher. I'm a salesman. We're all salesmen, the three of us."
"Then you do know each other."
"Yes." Erickson nodded. His two companions sat rigidly, staring down.
"Yes, we do. Here, I'll show you our line."
He opened the case. From it he took a letter-knife, a pencil sharpener,
a glass globe paperweight, a box of thumb tacks, a stapler, some clips,
a plastic ashtray, and some things Thacher could not identify. He placed
the objects in a row in front of him on the table top. Then he closed
the sample case.
"I gather you're in office supplies," Thacher said. He touched the
letter-knife with his finger. "Nice quality steel. Looks like Swedish
steel, to me."
Erickson nodded, looking into Thacher's face. "Not really an impressive
business, is it? Office supplies. Ashtrays, paper clips." He smiled.
"Oh--" Thacher shrugged. "Why not? They're a necessity in modern
business. The only thing I wonder--"
"What's that?"
"Well, I wonder how you'd ever find enough customers on Mars to make it
worth your while." He paused, examining the glass paperweight. He lifted
it up, holding it to the light, staring at the scene within until
Erickson took it out of his hand and put it back in the sample case.
"And another thing. If you three know each other, why did you sit apart
when you got on?"
They looked at him quickly.
"And why didn't you speak to each other until we left Deimos?" He leaned
toward Erickson, smiling at him. "Two men and a woman. Three of you.
Sitting apart in the ship. Not speaking, not until the check-station
was past. I find myself thinking over what the Martian said. Three
saboteurs. A woman and two men."
Erickson put the things back in the sample case. He was smiling, but his
face had gone chalk white. Mara stared down, playing with a drop of
water on the edge of her glass. Jan clenched his hands together
nervously, blinking rapidly.
"You three are the ones the Leiter was after," Thacher said softly. "You
are the destroyers, the saboteurs. But their lie detector-- Why didn't
it trap you? How did you get by that? And now you're safe, outside the
check-station." He grinned, staring around at them. "I'll be damned! And
I really thought you were a salesman, Erickson. You really fooled me."
Erickson relaxed a little. "Well, Mr. Thacher, it's in a good cause. I'm
sure you have no love for Mars, either. No Terran does. And I see you're
leaving with the rest of us."
"True," Thacher said. "You must certainly have an interesting account to
give, the three of you." He looked around the table.
"We still have an hour or so of travel. Sometimes it gets dull, this
Mars-Terra run. Nothing to see, nothing to do but sit and drink in the
lounge." He raised his eyes slowly. "Any chance you'd like to spin a
story to keep us awake?"
Jan and Mara looked at Erickson. "Go on," Jan said. "He knows who we
are. Tell him the rest of the story."
"You might as well," Mara said.
Jan let out a sigh suddenly, a sigh of relief. "Let's put the cards on
the table, get this weight off us. I'm tired of sneaking around,
slipping--"
"Sure," Erickson said expansively. "Why not?" He settled back in his
chair, unbuttoning his vest. "Certainly, Mr. Thacher. I'll be glad to
spin you a story. And I'm sure it will be interesting enough to keep you
awake."
* * * * *
They ran through the groves of dead trees, leaping across the sun-baked
Martian soil, running silently together. They went up a little rise,
across a narrow ridge. Suddenly Erick stopped, throwing himself down
flat on the ground. The others did the same, pressing themselves against
the soil, gasping for breath.
"Be silent," Erick muttered. He raised himself a little. "No noise.
There'll be Leiters nearby, from now on. We don't dare take any
chances."
Between the three people lying in the grove of dead trees and the City
was a barren, level waste of desert, over a mile of blasted sand. No
trees or bushes marred the smooth, parched surface. Only an occasional
wind, a dry wind eddying and twisting, blew the sand up into little
rills. A faint odor came to them, a bitter smell of heat and sand,
carried by the wind.