"Oh, that." An eight-foot arm snaked out, flicked the gun aside. "I've only temporized with you because you can be useful to me, Mister Slane. I dislike running about, and I therefore employ locals to do my running for me. Accept my offer of employment, and you'll be richly rewarded."
"Why me?"
"You already know of my presence here. If I can enlist your loyalty, there will be no need to dispose of you, with the attendant annoyance from police, relatives and busybodies. I'd like you to act as my agent in the collection of the works."
"Nuts to you!" Dan said. "I'm not helping any bunch of skinheads commit robbery."
"This is for the Ivroy, you fool!" Snithian said. "The mightiest power in the cosmos!"
"This Ivroy doesn't sound so hot to me-robbing art galleries-"
"To be adult is to be disillusioned. Only realities count. But no matter. The question remains: Will you serve me loyally?"
"Hell, no!" Dan snapped.
"Too bad. I see you mean what you say. It's to be expected, I suppose. Even an infant fire-cat has fangs."
"You're damn right I mean it. How did you get Percy and Fiorello on your payroll? I'm surprised even a couple of bums would go to work for a scavenger like you."
"I suppose you refer to the precious pair recruited by Blote. That was a mistake, I fear. It seemed perfectly reasonable at the time. Tell me, how did you overcome the Vegan? They're a very capable race, generally speaking."
"You and he work together, eh?" Dan said. "That makes things a little clearer. This is the collection station and Blote is the fence."
"Enough of your conjectures. You leave me no choice but to dispose of you. It's a nuisance, but it can't be helped. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to accompany me down to the vault."
Dan eyed the door; if he were going to make a break, now was the time The whine of the carrier sounded. The ghostly cage glided through the wall and settled gently between Dan and Snithian. The glow died.
Blote waved cheerfully to Dan as he eased his grotesque bulk from the seat.
"Good day to you, Snithian," Blote boomed. "I see you've met Dan. An enterprising fellow."
"What brings you here, Gom Blote?" Snithian shrilled. "I thought you'd be well on your way to Vorplisch by now."
"I was tempted, Snithian. But I don't spook easy. There is the matter of some unfinished business."
"Excellent!" Snithian exclaimed. "I'll have another consignment ready for you by tomorrow."
"Tomorrow! How is it possible, with Percy and Fiorello lodged in the hoosegow?" Blote looked around; his eye fell on the stacked paintings. He moved across to them, lifted one, glanced at the next, then shuffled rapidly through the stack. He turned.
"What duplicity is this, Snithian?" he rumbled. "All identical! Our agreement called for limited editions, not mass production! My principals will be furious! My reputation-"
"Shrivel your reputation!" Snithian keened. "I have more serious problems at the moment! My entire position's been compromised. I'm faced with the necessity of disposing of this blundering fool!"
"Dan? Why, I'm afraid I can't allow that, Snithian." Blote moved to the carrier, dumped an armful of duplicate paintings in the cage. "Evidence," he said. "The Confederation has methods for dealing with sharp practice. Come, Dan, if you're ready…"
"You dare to cross me?" Snithian hissed. "I, who act for the Ivroy?"
Blote motioned to the carrier. "Get in, Dan. We'll be going now." He rolled both eyes to bear on Snithian. "And I'll deal with you later," he rumbled. "No one pulls a fast one on Gom Blote, Trader Fourth Class-or on the Vegan Federation."
Snithian moved suddenly, flicking out a spidery arm to seize the weapon he had dropped, aim and trigger. Dan, in a wash of pain, felt his knees fold. He fell slackly to the floor. Beside him, Blote sagged, his tentacles limp.
"I credited you with more intelligence," Snithian cackled. "Now I have an extra ton of protoplasm to dispose of. The carrier will be useful in that connection."
5
Dan felt a familiar chill in the air. A Portal appeared. In a puff of icy mist, a tall figure stepped through.
Gone was the tight uniform. In its place, the lanky Australopithecine wore skin-tight blue jeans and a loose sweatshirt. An oversized beret clung to the small round head. Immense dark glasses covered the yellowish eyes, and sandals flapped on the bare, long-toed feet. Dzhackoon waved a long cigarette holder at the group.
"Ah, a stroke of luck! How nice to find you standing by. I had expected to have to conduct an intensive search within the locus. Thus the native dress. However-" Dzhackoon's eyes fell on Snithian standing stiffly by, the gun out of sight.
"You're of a race unfamiliar to me," he said. "Still, I assume you're aware of the Interdict on all Anthropoid-populated loci?"
"And who might you be?" Snithian inquired loftily.
"I'm a Field Agent of the Interdimensional Monitor Service."
"Ah, yes. Well, your Interdict means nothing to me. I'm operating directly under Ivroy auspices." Snithian touched a glittering pin on his drab cloak.
Dzhackoon sighed. "There goes the old arrest record."
"He's a crook!" Dan cut in. "He's been robbing art galleries!"
"Keep calm, Dan," Blote murmured. "No need to be overly explicit."
The Agent turned to look the Trader over.
"Vegan, aren't you? I imagine you're the fellow I've been chasing."
"Who, me?" the bass voice rumbled. "Look, officer, I'm a home-loving family man, just passing through. As a matter of fact-"
The uniformed creature nodded toward the paintings in the carrier. "Gathered a few souvenirs, I see."
"For the wives and kiddie. Just a little something to brighten up the hive."
"The penalty for exploitation of a sub-cultural Anthropoid-occupied body is stasis for a period not to exceed one reproductive cycle. If I recall my Vegan biology, that's quite a stretch."
"Why, officer! Surely you're not putting the arm on a respectable, law-abiding being like me? Why, I lost a tentacle fighting in defense of peace-" As he talked, Blote moved toward the carrier.
"-your name, my dear fellow," he went on. "I'll mention it to the Commissioner, a very close friend of mine." Abruptly the Vegan reached for a lever The long arms in the tight white jacket reached to haul him back effortlessly. "That was unwise, sir. Now I'll be forced to recommend subliminal reorientation during stasis." He clamped stout handcuffs on Blote's broad wrists.
"You Vegans," he said, dusting his hands briskly. "Will you never learn?"
"Now, officer," Blote said, "you're acting hastily. Actually, I'm working in the interest of this little world, as my associate Dan will gladly confirm. I have information which will be of considerable interest to you. Snithian has stated that he is in the employ of the Ivroy-"
"If the Ivroy's so powerful, why was it necessary to hire Snithian to steal pictures?" Dan interrupted.
"Perish the thought, Dan. Snithian's assignment was merely to duplicate works of art and transmit them to the Ivroy."
"Here," Snithian cut in. "Restrain that obscene mouth!"
Dzhackoon raised a hand. "Kindly remain silent, sir. Permit my prisoners their little chat."
"You may release them to my custody," Snithian snapped.
Dzhackoon shook his head. "Hardly, sir. A most improper suggestion-even from an agent of the Ivroy." He nodded at Dan. "You may continue."