The man on the screen closed one eye slowly and opened it again the same
way. "This is Vicon Burlingame. I've been doing some experimenting and
am now at the point where I can use some technical assistance."
"I'm not sure. I've been in the hospital until this morning. I think I
need a checkup."
"I called while you were gone," said Burlingame. "I know about the
hospital; however, I don't think my work will be strenuous. Perhaps
you'd come over and we'll discuss it."
"I'll take the chance I can help you."
"Good." Vicon Burlingame gave him the address before fading out of the
screen.
Jadiver dressed slowly. Weak, but better than he expected. Physically,
his recovery was far advanced. It wasn't he who was taking a chance, of
course; it was Burlingame. Jadiver had warned him and if Burlingame was
willing to risk it, that was up to him.
Before he left, Jadiver checked his office. A few calls in the last
week, but nothing important. It was a routine check and he gave the
robot routine instructions.
A tiny thing, that office, located on the ground floor of a building
fronting a principal thoroughfare. A space large enough for a client to
sit down, if one should come, which wasn't often. Behind the desk was
the upper half of a robot. Tiny though the office was, it was not
inexpensive, and the business that passed through it was barely enough
to pay the rent.
There were other advantages in maintaining it, though. As long as he had
a business address, he was spared certain legal embarrassments.
* * * * *
Five minutes later, he was greeted by Vicon Burlingame. "Come in."
Jadiver did so.
Burlingame silently studied Jadiver closely. "Maybe you're tired," he
said at last. "A little sun would relax you."
"It might," agreed Jadiver. "This cloudy Venus."
"It's not so bad when you're home," said Burlingame. "But public places
are bad for ultraviolet." He indicated the next room. "The lamp is in
there."
Jadiver went in and began to remove his clothing. Before he finished,
a little man came in, nodding silently at Jadiver. Without comment,
Jadiver stood in front of the machine. While the little man methodically
examined him, his clothing disappeared.
The little man looked up at the end of the intensive investigation.
"You'll do," he said.
"Clear?" asked Jadiver.
"Clear as the atmosphere of the Moon. We were afraid they'd planted you
while you were in the hospital, but we decided to take the chance."
For the first time since the accident, Jadiver felt relaxed. "Thanks,
Cobber. I was hoping to contact someone to check it for me."
Cobber shrugged. "Who can you trust? If you go to a doctor good enough
to find a gadget that small, what is he? A high-powered professional and
he's got his problems. He sees something inside and smiles and says
you're fine and charges you a fat fee. Even if he tells you that you've
been planted, there's nothing you can do. No one's going to cut it
out--not while the police can hear everything through it."
"Thanks for taking the chance."
Burlingame came in smiling confidently. "Now we can talk," he said.
Behind him were three other men Jadiver had never seen.
"Where are my clothes?" Jadiver wanted to know.
"They'll be ready," promised Burlingame. "The police have got all kinds
of cute tricks, only we don't fall for them. We're systematic."
They were that, decided Jadiver, and something more. They had to be to
survive so long. Burlingame was good.
A gamin's face peered through the doorway and one hand thrust his
clothing into the room and waved it. "Here. They didn't try to conceal
anything." She sounded disappointed.
Jadiver dressed as Burlingame relayed the clothing to him. The gamin
wrinkled her nose and disappeared. By the time Jadiver was completely
dressed, she came back with refreshments.
They sat down at the table. "I want faces," said Burlingame, across from
him--"five faces."
Jadiver looked around. There were six. "None of my business, except in a
professional way, but who do I leave out?"
"Cobber. We have other plans for him."
It wasn't a good idea to pry. He had to know the human material on which
he was expected to work, but it was safer not to know what they were
planning.
He tapped his glass. "What kind of faces? Soft faces, hard faces, space
faces? And do you want anything else?"
"Society faces," said Burlingame. "Emily wants to wear a low-cut gown.
The rest of us just need faces."
"Real low," the gamin insisted, wriggling.
"Society," mused Jadiver. "I always did think it was better to rob the
rich ... like Robin Hood."
"Sure," Burlingame said.
Jadiver tilted the glass. "Especially since the poor don't have much
money."
"That has something to do with it," Burlingame cheerfully agreed.
Cobber broke in. He was a little gnarled man, older than the others. "A
point, Jadiver. The poor don't have much money, but there's so many more
of them. You can actually be more successful robbing them. But you have
to keep at it every day in the year, and then you don't call it robbery;
you say you're governing them."
"Don't have that kind of stamina," said Burlingame.
"A good point, Cobber." Jadiver leaned on the table. "I don't want
specific information, but how can you make robbery pay off these days?"
* * * * *