The next morning when SSM George Hanlon awoke, his first thought was
one of concern for his father. An impatient, driving urge for action
seized him and made him jump out of bed. Then logic and clear thinking
came to the fore, although it required conscious effort for him to
prepare and eat his breakfast first of all.
Hurriedly finished, though, he set to work on his new make-up, doing
his level best to keep his thoughts on the difficult task at hand.
He had let his whiskers and hair grow from the time he first received
this assignment, of course, so was not too much concerned about the
hairiness he must present to the world when dressed. Luckily, although
it had often been a source of annoyance--he was one of those men
whose beard grows clear down his face and neck to join, with hardly a
break, the hair on his chest. As for the body hair that had been so
painstakingly glued onto his body before, he decided not to attempt
that. He had not yet had to disrobe in front of anyone here; he was
certain he would be able to avoid doing so in the future.
He rubbed liquid rouge, of a dark shade, well into the skin of his
face, neck, hands and high up on his wrists, which took care of his
coloring.
His main worry was the nose and ears, especially the nose. That
would be most quickly noticed if it looked artificial. His first few
attempts were not only badly done, but almost ludicrous. His usually
fine muscular coordination seemed to be lacking. But he persevered and
finally, after several hours, managed to mold a fairly reasonable snout
and to so blend its edges into the skin of his face adjoining that it
would, he felt sure, pass muster on casual inspection.
He built up his ears in like manner, but to help with this deception,
in case of any close scrutiny, he covered them with a head bandage. He
put his hat on, pulled it well down in front and on the sides, then
examined himself critically in the mirror.
"Boy, that's a sloppy job, and how," he exclaimed, disgusted with his
handiwork. "Trevor would disown me if he could see it." But he finally
decided it would do ... he hoped.
Now that he had finished he discovered he was sweating like a nervous
caval. He held out his shaking hands, and looked at them critically.
What, in John's name, was wrong with him, anyway?
And a thought he had, perhaps subconsciously, pushed far down into the
furthest recesses of his mind, swept over him with full force.
He did not want to think that thought. More, he did not want to have to
make that decision. But....
Manning was dead.
Hooper was fleeing insanely, perhaps also dead by now.
His father was captive, imprisoned, tortured ... if still alive.
Only he, Hanlon, of the four, was left.
And he was ... alone.
Again to his mind came his father's earnest and incisive statement,
that getting Estrella to accept membership in the Federation was
the most important thing that had come up in ages. It _had_ to be
accomplished, and quickly.
Deep down Hanlon knew what that meant. Individuals were
expendable--the plan was not.
He was beginning to learn that while plans may blow up in one's
face--as now--such happenings must be accepted philosophically,
without too much backward longing, without too great remorse, and
certainly--which was the hardest to accept--without letting personal
feelings or sympathy for those lost or in danger keep the one or ones
remaining from going ahead with new attempts to bring the mission to a
successful conclusion.
For a long time Hanlon sat there. Resolutely now, he put his father out
of his mind, and concentrated only on how he was to accomplish the task
that confronted him--alone.
Finally he began to look at the larger aspects of the problem; to
realize that he must quit hunting for individual criminals and possible
members of the opposition, and work from the other end--the top.
"After all," he thought, "it is the Ruler who makes the decisions.
Perhaps ... no, I _must_ go to work on him. I've got enough dope now as
to who is behind this intrigue. Now I must reach Elus Amir himself, and
swing him our way. But, in Snyder's name, how am I going to get to him?"
Plan after possible plan he discarded. He could not go to Amir as a
Terran. In the first place, his word would have no weight. In the
second place, he would undoubtedly have considerable trouble making the
approach to the Ruler, if it was possible at all.
No, he would have to get close to him as a native. And to do that,
he first had to know more--a lot more--about the Ruler as a man, his
habits and usual daily routine.
Hanlon left the house and went to a number of places where men ate
or drank, both for information, and to try out his new disguise. The
latter must have been better than he thought, for no one seemed to
notice. And in each place he visited, while eating or sipping his mild
drink, Hanlon asked one or two discreet questions. None of these, by
themselves, seemed to mean anything. But the answers, put together as
Hanlon did when he returned to his rooms, gave him a fairly detailed
picture.
He knew now that the Ruler stuck quite closely to his
residence--"palace", Hanlon thought of it--although occasionally his
duties took him to other cities on either continent, and sometimes he
went out for an evening at the theatre, as he had done on Hanlon's
opening night.
Otherwise, he was a hard worker, an excellent and well-loved Ruler,
always studying carefully all suggested legislation that was presented
for his consideration, always thinking of ways to better the condition
of his people.
But to one thing he had learned Hanlon gave the most consideration at
the moment. Elus Amir, he found, went out almost every day for a ride
on his caval, and usually along the same route. Hanlon knew what road
that was.
Accustomed as he now was to thinking more in terms of animals than of
men, the natural thought for Hanlon was to wonder how he could meet or
study the Ruler through his caval.
The next day, therefore, the S S man rode out into the country, and
posted himself at a convenient spot where he could watch without
attracting too much attention, yet could see for several miles. He took
one of the wheels off his motor-tricycle and demounted the tire. This
was to be his excuse for being so handy at the time of his planned
meeting with the Ruler.
But something apparently changed Elus Amir's habits, for he did not
ride that road that day. Ruefully doing a bit of under-breath griping,
Hanlon replaced tire and wheel, then rode back toward town.
But after he had gone part way through the city streets, he thought of
something else that must be done, and headed towards the place Morris
Manning had found rooms.
Luckily, no one else had moved in, and no one appeared in the hall
when Hanlon came back, after a quick trip to a tool stall in the
market place, where he was able to buy a hacksaw. For Manning, as did
the other S S men, had attached a hasp and pick-proof padlock to his
door. The Estrellans locks were ingenious, but could quite easily be
unfastened even without the key.
These locks consisted of a metal rod, like a sliding bolt, that ran
inside the wood of the door. There was a slip in the wood on either
side of the door through which a key, inserted in the rod, could move
it forth or back. When the bolt was moved into position with one end
seated in the holder in the doorjamb, a turn of the key opened flanges
on the rod that fitted vertically into prepared slots.
But a little patience easily enabled one who wished to get in, to trip
those flanges with almost any small, flat-pointed instrument, even a
penknife blade.
Now Hanlon cut through the hasp, evidently without attracting anyone's
attention, for none of the neighbors came out to investigate the
strange sounds. Inside Manning's room, he went about the sad business
of collecting the dead secret serviceman's gear and belongings, to be
sent back home on the sneakboat.
As he was cleaning out one of the chests, however, Hanlon discovered a
small notebook he knew was of Estrellan make. He opened it idly, and
found it was filled with native writing.
Excited now, for he was sure Manning would have written in Terran or
I-S C code if it had been his work, Hanlon slowly began deciphering the
words.
"Yow, this is hot stuff," he exclaimed after less than a page. "Wonder
where Morrie got this? From Esbor's office or home, I'll bet."
He stuffed the book into his pocket for later study. He packed the
balance of Manning's things, then left, mounted his trike and rode back
to his own rooms.
All the balance of the afternoon and evening he worked at the
translation of the entries in that book. It was, he found with great
glee, a list of the names of various criminals who had been working
under Esbor, and brief details of their various activities, as well as
many other notes of similar nature.
One recent item caused a brief exclamation. "Ran Auldin came seeking a
safe hiding place today," he read. "It having already been decided by
Adwal Irad that the man's usefulness was over, he was cindered."
"Dirty killers," Hanlon growled, his brief moment of joy at the direct
mention of Irad dimmed by the import of that entry. "No conscience
whatever."
All in all, however, he was vastly pleased, and grew more so as he
continued translating. For there were several mentions of Adwal Irad,
and always pointing to him as the top man. Now he had real evidence
of what he had believed--that this crime wave was directed by the
Second-In-Line. Hanlon was vastly relieved.
In the morning, as he was preparing to go out again to see if he
could contact Amir, a thought sent him to the mirror, attempting some
changes in his make-up. He worked subtly and soon made himself look
considerably older--about middle-aged. This, he felt, would make the
Ruler listen more carefully to his evidence than he might to a younger
man. Then he rode out to that country road.
Sometime later he saw Elus Amir riding that way. From Hanlon's vantage
point he saw the Ruler and a single groom on their mounts while they
were still some distance away.
Hanlon's mind reached out and touched that of the Ruler's steed. There
were a few moments of anxious trying, and then he was in full control
of the animal's mind. Through its eyes Hanlon looked out carefully
along the road. It seemed fairly smooth, and he felt sure that if Amir
was at all a good cavalman--as he must be after riding nearly every
day--he would be able to stay in the saddle safely during the wild ride
planned.
Hanlon made the beast suddenly snort and shy to one side, then break
into a wild gallop straight down the road, despite the Ruler's frantic
efforts at control.
Swiftly the caval pounded down the road, Amir working desperately to
control it, yet seeming not to be too frightened by the runaway. The
groom kicked up his own mount, but was hopelessly outdistanced.
Meanwhile the caval, controlled by Hanlon's mind within its own, paid
no attention to the sawings and pullings on rein and bit, and continued
its apparently frightened bolt.
As they neared the place where Hanlon was working on his machine, the
young man straightened, looked, then jumped into the road. He started
trotting toward them, waving his arms in an effort to make the caval
stop its mad rush. But, although he let the animal slow somewhat, it
kept running wildly.
As it drew closer, Hanlon moved a bit to one side, but still in the
road. When the horse and rider were almost upon him he turned his back
to them and started running in the same direction, looking back across
his shoulder. Just as the caval came abreast, Hanlon suddenly leaped
toward it, and grasped the bridle. At the same time his mind calmed
that of the beast, and commanded it to slow and stop.
To the Ruler, Hanlon seemed to be dragged for several yards, still
holding grimly to the reins he had grasped. When he finally brought the
caval to a stop, it stood with heaving flanks and blowing nostrils.
"Whew," Elus Amir wiped his face, "that was fine work, my man. Many
thanks. I don't know what got into the stupid beast. It has never done
that before."
"Something must have frightened it," Hanlon said. He pretended he did
not know who the rider was, having considered this point carefully.
"Sure you can handle it now?"
"Yes, I think there'll be no more trouble. By the way, is there
anything I can do to show my gratitude?"
Hanlon looked surprised. "Why, I didn't do anything special. Couldn't
let you get hurt."
The Ruler gazed at him peculiarly. "Don't you know who I am?"
"No, should I?"
"I am Elus Amir."
"Oh!" Hanlon made himself look properly surprised, then bent his knee
in the Estrellan salute to the Ruler. "I beg your pardon, k'nyer, if
I've spoken wrongly, for I did not know."
Amir smiled. "Well, now that you do, I ask again, is there anything I
can do for you? You must want something."
Hanlon shook his head. "Thank you, sire, but I wouldn't dream of
imposing on your generosity. I'm sure I can find a job somewhere."
"Oh, you're looking for work?"
"Yes, k'nyer. I only recently came here from Lura."
"What can you do?"
Another shrug. "Farm work, tending animals, that sort of thing. I love
animals, especially cavals. I'd hoped to get a job as stableman on one
of the estates here."
The Ruler looked at his groom who had come galloping up, relieved to
see that his master was unharmed, glancing curiously at this stranger
who had saved the Ruler, and with whom he could see Amir had been
talking.
"Are there any vacancies in our stable-force, Endar?" the Ruler asked.
"Why ... why, no, k'nyer, not at present."
"Make one then," snapped Amir. "I want to give this man a good
position. He is to take care of my personal string of cavals."
"As you order, sire."
"I don't like to make trouble for anyone, k'nyer." Hanlon protested. "I
don't want a job if it means putting someone else out of work."
The Ruler's eyes lighted up with a friendly smile. "I assure you it
won't. I like your attitude, my man. It is good to find someone who
thinks of others before himself."
Once more Hanlon shrugged deprecatingly. "I've found in my lifetime,
k'nyer, that it doesn't hurt me any to think of the other fellow.
And the best part of it is, I've also found, that when I do so think
unselfishly, I always receive far more happiness than otherwise."
"Ah, a philosopher. I must have many talks with you. Can you get to the
Residence all right?"
"Yes, sire, as soon as I finish fixing my tire."
"Report to Endar here, then, when you get there. I'll instruct him as
we ride back."
"My thanks, k'nyer. I promise to serve you well and faithfully."
The Ruler nodded briefly and rode away, the groom following at a
respectful distance. Hanlon hurriedly replaced tire and wheel, then
rode off toward the palace. Watching through the caval's eyes, he timed
it so he rode into the courtyard just behind the Ruler and groom.
Elus Amir was cordial as he dismounted. "I see you got here all
right ... by the way, you never told me your name."
"I am called Ergo Lona, k'nyer."
"All right, Lona. Endar, see that this man has good quarters and
whatever clothing he needs. Introduce him to the work."
"As you order, sire." The two men bent their knees, then led the cavals
to the stables as the Ruler went up the steps into the residence.
Hanlon noticed the groom was inclined to be a bit surly, and deduced
the man was afraid of his job. He determined to make friends, if
possible. It would hamper his work of spying if he had to watch for
enemies close to him, like this man could be.
"Please tell me how I may help, Endar," he made his voice cordial, yet
with a touch of servility. "I'm proud that our Ruler has given me work,
I assure you I want to do everything to make good here. I know you must
be important here, to be allowed to ride with K'nyer Amir, and I hope
you will teach me the regulations. I realize I can never be anything
but a stable helper, but I do want to be a good one. I hope we can
become good friends."
The man unbent a little. "All right, I'll show you around."
They stabled the cavals and then the groom led Hanlon to a nearby
building. It was of stone construction, five-sided, surrounded by
flower beds and trees. It was not only harmonious with the palace and
other buildings and grounds, but a pretty little house by itself.
"These are the living quarters for the grooms," Endar said as they
mounted the steps. Inside he pointed out the dining room, then led the
way upstairs and down a short hall. "This will be your room," he opened
a door, disclosing a small but well-furnished, comfortable room.
"I have a few things in Stearra," Hanlon said. "When will it be
convenient for me to go get them?"
"We have lunch in a few minutes, then you might as well go," Endar
said. "I'll give you a note to the official tailor, and have him fit
you with the proper clothes."
Hanlon looked at him as though with new respect. "Oh, you must be the
head groom then, nyer. I hadn't thought about that. Please pardon my
presumption in suggesting that we be friends."
Endar merely looked at him a moment, then turned and left without a
word.
Hanlon grinned to himself as the door closed. "It won't be too hard to
keep ahead of that guy. Only I'll have to watch him all the time, or he
could get nasty."