"I heard it was lousy," I told Arden. "Not to start an argument."
"We liked it. Can't you keep your eyeballs off my legs?"
Matter of fact, I hardly could. From looking for scars, I had passed
to just looking. I tried higher up and only got absorbed again. There
were some things about Arden, if you overlooked her acting, that were
spectacular.
"Who's the girl lately?" she asked.
"Nobody important. Who's the boy?"
She shrugged, and her dress nearly slid off her shoulder. "Nobody
important. My drink's gone. Let's go get another."
We wove around people and moved to Kettering's kitchen. It was nice to
be with her again, and I could tell she thought so too. And I owed it
to myself, my career, and to Myron to stay with her just a bit longer.
The fact that I couldn't see any scars didn't prove there weren't any.
I would try to get a chance for a more thorough check. The sense of
touch versus the sense of sight.
"You people did a wonderful job in 'Mars Hazard,'" I said. "I suppose
the party is kind of in your honor." Then I noticed something, and ran
my eyes over the crowd to check. "It looks like Renn only invited the
actors from the Mars part of the film!"
"It isn't really a party for the whole cast. Some of us happen to be
staying out here." That sounded almost as fishy as the I-like-Mars-bit.
"Renn afraid somebody'll get some secrets?" I smiled.
"Could be," she said, with that hazardous shrug. "You weren't going to
ask me for any, were you?"
"As a matter of fact I wasn't," I said with disarming frankness. "But I
will now. Just how did he make those terrific shots?"
Arden just smiled. It wasn't an answer, but the smile was a nice one.
"How about those drinks?"
We decided to go outside with our drinks, to look at the stars, and
maybe she could show me the one she'd been to. But Mars wasn't out that
night. At least we didn't see it. Maybe because we didn't look too
hard. After awhile we went back into the living room, and I had learned
something, at least. There weren't any scars on her.
I strolled us over to the group around Kettering. Little Dick Lutz, the
critic, was peppering questions at him, and Kettering was loving it.
"I may never make another," he was saying. "Would you ask Shakespeare
to write two Hamlets?"
"Then why so quiet about your technique? If you don't want to use it,
let the rest of the boys in."
"That's my secret too," Renn Kettering answered smugly, sipping his
drink.
"Look, R. K.," popped Lutz, who was getting nettled, "I hear the secret
is out already. People talk."
Kettering laughed. "The secret isn't out--I know it isn't. Like to know
how I know?"
"Okay, so how do you know?"
"That's my secret, too."
I thought that Lutz would choke to death. "You used Martians," he said
with conviction. "Disguised."
* * * * *
Renn donned a look of pain. "That theory is shabby, shabby as the robot
rumor. Do you really believe Martians could be disguised that well? And
if they could, do you think they'd want to throw their lives away?"
"What do I know about Martians?" Lutz spluttered, but he was beat. It
was a shame. There for a minute I thought he'd come up with something.
I was just about where I'd been when I'd arrived at the party--except
perhaps with Arden, which wasn't exactly what Myron sent me for. I hung
around near Kettering but he didn't say anything revealing, and finally
it was time to go. Arden and I had been occupied in the kitchen, and I
was the last guest.
Renn went with me to the door, slipping past the tawny which jumped at
both of us.
"Goodnight, R.K.," I said. "It was real."
He put his hand on my shoulder, "You're a great boy, Manny. I've been
hearing a lot of nice things about you."
It was coming.
"I do as well as I can," I said modestly.
"I know that," he said, pompous and serious as an old gibbon. "I keep
an eye on people. I'd like you to have lunch with me sometime."
In a way, I wished I could work for him. He was heading Up, but def.
Myron was right, though. Renn would hire me just to get me away from
Stupendous, then pigeon-hole me because he wouldn't be able to trust me.
I let my mouth flop open for just a second. "Why--I'd be delighted. How
about tomorrow?"
"Love it, but I'm leaving tomorrow. Let's make it in about a month."
I must have looked surprised, and he said, "We're going back to Mars,
you know. Some of the cast liked it so much--may even want to live
there. I'm traveling up with them. The government has another ship
going--they've been most accommodating."
Him and his fancy wire-pulling.
"Oh," said I. "Well, whenever you say. It's been a delightful evening."
The hell it had.
"Thank you," said Kettering. "Goodnight, now. Be careful going across
the grounds, Manny. I let my little watchdog out in about ten minutes."
"Uh," I said expressively. "Well, goodnight."
His big gates opened ahead of the car and shut behind it, and I drove
down the road a little and parked. Would Myron want to wait a month
before I could even see Kettering again? I mulled awhile, picked up the
dash phone, and rang up Myron. He was sore when he answered--apparently
I'd interrupted something--and sore when I got through talking. When I
hung up I had received an ultimatum--get the dope, get it now, or....
Well, I did look forward to keeping my job, which financed a blonde, a
brunette, and two cars. I couldn't let all those dependents down.
I am much opposed to hard thinking, but I decided to do some. Finally
I snuffed up an idea. Just to show you what hard thinking leads to, it
was the idea that changed everything.
Renn was much too cool to show the secret. But the cast had to be in
on it. And there was this liking this Mars business, and the trip back
there, and all that jazz.
I would sneak back to the house and spy on the actors and actresses.
Preferably the actresses. Only, of course, because they talk more.
* * * * *
I drove back with the lights out and parked by the big gate. I didn't
see anything of the tawny. The gate was made of upright iron bars,
sharp-pointed at the tips, and I climbed up. The bars were set loosely
into holes in the cross-pieces, resting solid on the bottom crosspiece
but not welded. I worked one out. A spear. Too heavy to throw at
a tawny or anybody else, but I remembered a movie I saw as a kid,
back when they had jungle movies. The jokers in this movie had done
something I might do with the tawny.
I climbed down inside the grounds and started toward the house, where
a couple of lights were on. The moon was low and very bright. I didn't
crouch or skulk along. I figured the tawny would spot me sooner or
later, and I'd rather it _didn't happen_ when my back was turned and I
was looking in a window.