The next day Hanlon also spent in the cat's mind, when he was not
playing with or attending to his roches, or eating. It happened that he
had transferred part of his mind to each of the eight, and was giving
them a short workout, when there was a sudden noise at his door, and it
was roughly flung open--he had not locked it while at home.
Nine parts of his mind saw through nine pairs of eyes the man who
stormed in. Nine pairs of ears heard him snarl, "What's the big idea of
having my men arrested?"
As quickly as he could Hanlon started bringing the portions of his mind
from the roches into his own brain. He sat up on the bed, and made his
face look blank--but inside he was thunderstruck. How had Ran Auldin
found out he was behind those arrests?
"Why ... why," he pretended to stammer. "I don't know what you're
talking about, Ran. What arrests? What's happened?"
The usually fastidious gang-boss was now dirty and his clothing soiled
and rumpled. His eyes were red, apparently from sleeplessness, or
worry, or both. His voice was still accusing as he answered, "My men
were surprised at their work the other night, and I only escaped by
luck. Been hiding ever since."
"But what's it all about? Why were they arrested? I don't know
anything about what you were doing--Yandor didn't tell...."
"It must have been you. Nobody else knew."
"And I tell you I was not told, either, so how could I know? I've been
too busy getting my act ready and putting it on, and Yandor hasn't even
mentioned you to me."
Auldin stepped close to the side of the bed as Hanlon struggled to get
up, and pushed him down again. Now Hanlon could see that the mobster
was carrying in each hand a piece of large rope, approximately half an
inch in diameter and about two feet long. The far end of each was tied
into a knot, in which pieces of wires had been woven to add weight.
"Maybe you didn't have anything to do with the arrests," Auldin
admitted, "but I still think you did. Anyway, you used me to get in
good with Yandor, then turned him against me. I don't like that."
Oh, so that was what had really touched him off. Hanlon saw that the
slim man was spoiling for a fight--and that he was using almost any
excuse to try to take it out of a fellow who was making good where he
had failed.
Hanlon thought, "I don't want to hurt the guy, now that he's down, but
I sure don't want to get hurt, either." He had never seen exactly such
weapons as Auldin was carrying, but he had a good idea the native was
adept in their handling. They looked old and well-used.
Hanlon rolled suddenly across the bed and jumped to his feet on the
other side. But Auldin ran swiftly around the foot of the bed, and
Hanlon was more or less cornered in a narrow space. First one of those
strange weapons flicked out, then the other, and Hanlon quickly found
out how effective they were. The way Auldin snapped and whipped them,
made them almost impossible to dodge, and Hanlon felt their burnings
across his shoulders--although he was able to protect his face from
those first quick flicks.
Hanlon had to get out of that corner, so the next time both ropes
flashed out toward him he ducked beneath, down and forward, under
Auldin's arms--and was in the center of the room.
The S S man reached out and took over the minds of two of his roches,
and made them run between Auldin's legs. Then, as the ropes with
those terrible knots at the ends flashed out, Hanlon grabbed them and
yanked. The combination of that pull and the roches entangled between
his legs was enough to upset the gangster, and he stumbled forward.
Hanlon quickly swarmed onto him and got a judo hold on Auldin the man
could not break. Holding him thus, Hanlon took the two ropes from his
powerless hands, and threw them into a far corner.
"Now get this, and get it straight," Hanlon panted, but as impressively
as he could. "I still don't know what this is all about, but I don't
like your barging into my room and attacking me like this. Now get out
and stay away from me. You try anything like this again, and so help
me I'll kill you. And just so you'll remember...." Hanlon put all his
pent-up wrath into his fist and threw it at the now-deflated Auldin's
jaw. This, he knew, was the only way really to impress a man of that
type.
He then forced the half-groggy gangster out of the room and loosed him
in the hallway, then shut and locked his door. He listened intently,
and finally heard the fellow's mumblings and footsteps going down the
stairs. From the window Hanlon watched the thoroughly-frightened native
scuttle off down the street, looking furtively all about to see that he
was not being followed or observed. Hanlon felt satisfied that he would
have no further trouble from him.
As he went back to bed, Hanlon tried to figure this one out. Evidently
Auldin did not really know Hanlon had caused those arrests, but was
merely using that as an excuse to provoke a fight with one whom he
hated for making a success at the same time he, Auldin, was a failure
in hiding.
Had Auldin reported this to Yandor? Hanlon had not seen the two
together--either through his own or Ebony's eyes--nor had he found
anything of the sort in Yandor's mind. But he would have to try to find
out that answer, also, among the many others.
He sent his mind back into that of the cat, and took up his spying of
the theatrical agent.
About an hour later Yandor had a caller, and Hanlon "listened in" with
interest and growing delight. For it was Ovil Esbor, the politician.
From the talk between the two, in Yandor's inner, closed office--into
which Ebony had also gone--Hanlon got further confirmation of his
suspicions. He was more sure than ever now that Yandor was the "top
boss" here in Stearra, at least, while Esbor was boss of many other
local gangs, including thieves, dope peddlers and panderers.
Hanlon, in his room, made copious notes. "There," he exclaimed after
the two men had parted. "That ought to give Morrie enough info to hang
'em. I'll take these notes to him right away."
But Manning was not in his room when Hanlon got there, and since his
door was padlocked, Hanlon could not get in. He took a chance and slid
his notes under the door.
All this time, however, Hanlon had been watching Yandor through Ebony's
mind. He had just barely got back to his apartment when the impresario
had another visitor ... a masked man. (Hanlon doubted the man had gone
through the streets masked--probably had put it on just before entering
Yandor's office.)
"Ha! This should be good," and the young S S man paid even closer
attention, even as he was putting his motor-trike away, and running up
to his room. He heard the two distant men discussing many matters of
policy, closeted in that inner room of Yandor's. Hanlon found that the
criminal activities were, as he and the other secret servicemen had
deduced, planet-wide and under one general control. He knew positively,
when this conversation ended, that Yandor was in charge of the
activities of this half of the world--the largest continent--and that
the masked man was above him in authority.
Was this other king-pin of the whole thing? Or was he, perhaps, what
might be termed the "executive director" of the planetary criminal
ring? Whatever he was, he was the man Hanlon must get next to and
unmask. The Corpsman thrilled. He was gradually but surely climbing
that ladder, tediously and maddeningly slow though it seemed sometimes.
"One thing looks sure," Hanlon thought to himself. "Whether or not this
bunch is the one that is opposing Estrella's joining the Federation, if
we can eliminate them it will mean curbing, if not entirely stopping,
this planet-wide crime wave. That'll be worthwhile, even if it's not
really our job."
He tried to figure some way to get rid of these two men. If he could
lop off the head, the body would die--unless it was a Hydra, with
self-regenerating heads.
But after an hour or so of further study and thought, it was borne in
upon his consciousness that this was not his job at all. He must quit
trying to be the big cheese. If he got any leads, the information must
be turned over to his father and the secret service general staff, and
let them--not him--worry about how to get rid of these men, or punish
them in whatever way Estrellan law provided.
* * * * *
When Hanlon went to the theatre that night, he found Yandor there, with
Ebony on its leash--as he had known he would from watching the man
through the cat's senses. There was another man with the agent, whom
Hanlon had been studying, puzzled by the curious ... blocking? ... in
the man's mind. Yandor now introduced him as "my good friend, Egon,"
and the three chatted together until it was time for Hanlon to go and
prepare. Egon complimented him highly on his act, which he said he had
seen twice already, and upon the perfect training of his animals.
"How in the name of Zappa do you do it?" he asked. "It's hard enough
even to tame roches, to say nothing of training them as you've done."
Hanlon grinned. "Professional secret, nyer." Then he sobered and added,
"Actually, it's mainly a matter of hours and days and months of hard
work with them, until they know me and like me well enough to do what I
tell them, and I know what they are able to do."
He broke away, then, before they could question him further. In his
dressing room, while he was putting the uniforms on his dogs and
himself, and donning his roch-mask, he pondered seriously a thing
that had struck him a stunning blow. For Ebony's mind and delicate
senses seemed to detect a distinct similarity between the tones of
Egon's voice and those of the masked man--as well as a sameness of
effluvia--even though the two spoke in different keys and timbre of
voice.
Profoundly stirred, Hanlon studied this seeming fact with intense
concentration. How could he make certain?
But his call came just then, and he had to let this new matter rest
while he devoted his entire mind to the work of controlling his roches
for their act.
Later, in his room, as he again watched Yandor through the cat's eyes,
he saw him in his home with Egon and two other men, playing cards, but
merely as a group of friends. Nothing whatever was said, during the
hours, about any special activities of a criminal nature. No sedition
nor revolution was talked; neither Terra nor the matter of Estrella's
joining the Federation was so much as mentioned.
Still Hanlon was not sure--and he must become so. Perhaps, he reasoned,
the other two men were not in on any of these activities, and for
that reason Yandor and Egon could not discuss these matters in their
presence. Or perhaps Egon, himself, was not part of Yandor's criminal
group after all.
There must be some way of getting proof, Hanlon thought anxiously. How
could he positively connect the two, and make sure whether or not the
cat's feelings were correct--that Egon was the masked man?
The opportunity came just before the party broke up for the night, many
hours later. Egon had picked up the cat and was petting it, as the men
were preparing to leave Yandor's house. Not being used to cats, and not
knowing the manner in which they like to be petted--rubbing the fur the
way it naturally lies down--Egon was ruffling it and rubbing his hands
forth and back across Ebony's body.
The cat did not like it. It was only Hanlon's firm control that kept it
from ... "Hey, that's it!"
He released control of the cat's actions, while still watching through
its eyes and ears. Egon's hand again rubbed heavily upward across the
cat's fur. Almost light-swift was the slash of a clawed paw ... and
Egon yelped as he dropped Ebony to clap his hand to his chin, on which
blood began seeping from several deep and painful scratches.
Egon aimed a hard kick in its direction, but Ebony dodged safely away
and ran under a large piece of furniture.
"What happened?" Yandor sprang forward, a cloth in his hand to wipe
away the blood from Egon's chin. "Wait a minute. I'll get medicine to
put on that."
"Get rid of that cursed animal or I'll kill it," Egon blazed.
"Well now, you must have hurt it some way," Yandor said placatingly
as he daubed medicine on his friend's chin, stopping the bleeding and
relieving the pain. "Ebony is so friendly and quiet, I can't understand
it. He never acted that way before."
"Well, keep the vicious thing caged after this, then," and Egon stomped
out of the house, the other two men silently following.
Nor could Hanlon detect anything in Yandor's mind, which he invaded as
quickly as possible, that this was anything more than the grumbling of
a friend who had been accidentally injured. Yet there was a bit of fear
of that other man there, and a resolution to keep the cat out of sight
when Egon was around.
Did Yandor, himself, know that Egon and the masked man were the
same--or were Hanlon and Ebony wrong? If not, why was Yandor afraid?
There were many questions, but no answers--and Hanlon fumed.
He must get facts. He was getting a lot of suspicions and possible
clues, and certainly more information all the time. But none of them
tied in together as yet; none of them were provable facts.
Slowly, as he thought this out, it became more and more apparent to
Hanlon that he must no longer be tied down to his work at the theatre.
It--and taking care of the roches daytimes--was demanding entirely too
much of his time. Besides, it had only been undertaken to give him a
chance to get acquainted with Ino Yandor and, later, to give Hanlon a
reason for presenting the cat to this pet-collector.
So, when he went to the theatre that night, Hanlon was, to all intents
and purposes, roaring drunk. He was surly and insolent to everyone
he met, and his performance was terrible. The roches did not stay in
straight lines, they were out of step often, and fumbled and stumbled
in one way or another much of the time. The master of ceremonies
finally came out, forced Hanlon off the stage, then apologized to the
stunned audience.
"What made you think you could get away with anything like this?" the
manager demanded hotly, down in Hanlon's dressing room. "You're through
here--the act is cancelled. And I'll make sure no other theatre hires
you."
"Well now, that's right," another angry voice broke in, and Hanlon
turned to see Yandor, his face black. "Your entire contract is broken
as of now. I'll not tolerate such a disgraceful performance from anyone
under me."
Hanlon blustered and cursed, and yanked off his costume to get
into his street clothes. He apparently was not concerned with the
roches--did not even take off their costumes--but actually he was
seeing to it that none of this anger touched their minds or affected
them in any way.
Back in his room he considered the matter for some time, and decided he
had put it across all right--that these touchy men would not connect
him with any reverses they might suffer later in their outside criminal
work.
He considered the problem of his roches. He had always loved dogs, and
having become so intimate with these Estrellan pooches, he hated to
part with them. They were such lovable pets, so gentle and affectionate
and loyal. Knowing their minds so intimately, Hanlon knew they had
often wondered at the way they were being handled and made to do things
beyond their ordinary ability--yet not one of them had ever had the
least rebellious thought of ill-feeling toward this master who made
them do such unusual things.
But Hanlon knew he could no longer take care of them as they deserved,
that they would only be in his way from now on. His first act the next
morning after they had been fed, was to see to it that they were taken
out and good homes found for them. There were many children living in
his own and neighboring houses, who were glad to receive gifts of such
fine pets.
That worry solved, Hanlon went back to his room and spent most of the
day there, a great deal of it lying down on his bed or sprawled out in
his easy chair, his mind in that of Ebony, the cat, or roaming the city
watching the minds of the people he knew and suspected.
During the afternoon the masked man called on Yandor again. Through
Ebony's sharp eyes Hanlon carefully scrutinized and studied the lower
part of the visitor's face, which luckily the mask did not cover.
"Hah!" he exclaimed gleefully. For those scratches were quite
plainly visible to one who knew exactly where they were, and who was
specifically looking for them, even though it was apparent there had
been a careful attempt to conceal them with cosmetics.
Egon and the masked man, then, were one and the same!
But who was he, really? That was Hanlon's next important problem.
The following night, through the cat's eyes, Hanlon again saw Egon and
the other two men coming into Yandor's house for one of their usual
card games. Now, perhaps, was his chance to find out who the man was,
and where he lived.
Ebony had been banished to the next room, but through its ears Hanlon
was listening carefully, to know that the four were still in the house.
Meanwhile, he dressed and rode his motor-tricycle to the vicinity
of Yandor's home. There he hid himself in a dense shadow, always in
possession of Ebony's mind, waiting for signs that the men were getting
ready to leave.
Unexpectedly, however, as they were going out, a large, ornate,
motorized-tricycle with double seats drove up to the house. Egon
entered it and was driven rapidly away, far faster than Hanlon's
smaller machine could possibly go.
The young S S man was caught flat-footed. Or wait, was he? There was a
way, after all ... for him.
Swiftly his mind sought about and quickly found a sleeping bird in a
nearby tree. Taking control of its mind, he sent it winging after the
speeding car, and by this method was able to follow it as it drove
swiftly out into the country.
* * * * *
_In the spaceship above, a decision was made. By means of the
multiphased scanner, certain entities on the planet below, whose
general position was already known, were hunted out. For the alien now
definitely concluded that they were highly inimical to its plans._
_By certain means those beings were captured and taken forcibly to a
place that had been prepared._