“My opinion is that you are far too optimistic, if not utterly addled,” Hozzanet said. “But I can see you do not intend to listen to me. Go ahead, then: call this Drucker. I will warn you of one thing, though-accept none of his denials without proof. Distrust them even with thorough proof.”
“You may believe otherwise if you like, superior sir, but I really must assure you that I did not hatch from my eggshell yesterday,” Gorppet said stiffly. “I do know that Big Uglies will lie whenever it suits their interest to do so-and sometimes, I think, just for the sport of it. And…” His voice trailed off. He didn’t go on with whatever he’d been on the point of saying. Whatever it was, in fact, he forgot all about it. He started to laugh instead.
“And what is so funny?” Hozzanet asked. “Give me something to make me laugh, too, if you would be so kind. I could use a good laugh, by the Emperor.” He cast down his eye turrets.
So did Gorppet, who then answered, “It shall be done, superior sir. It just occurred to me: I believe I have the proper tool for persuading this particular Tosevite to listen to me and to do my bidding, or some of it.”
“Tell me,” Hozzanet urged. “Such a claim is usually all the better for proof. I do not think this likely to prove an exception to the rule.”
“I agree, superior sir,” Gorppet said. “Consider, though. When we first met Drucker, in whose company was he? In whose friendly company was he? Why, that of Mordechai Anielewicz.” He pronounced the Tosevite name with care. “And who is Mordechai Anielewicz? A leader of the members of the Jewish superstition in the subregion called Poland. The ideology of Drucker’s superiors requires permanent hatred for members of the Jewish superstition. If those superiors were to learn from us that he had violated their fundamental rule…”
He waited for Hozzanet’s judgment. If he’d missed something obvious, the other male would take sardonic pleasure in letting him know about it. But Hozzanet bent into the posture of respect, a very sizable compliment when from superior to inferior. “That is good. That is quite good,” he said, and added an emphatic cough. “By all means, make your telephone call. We may realize considerable profit from it. Blackmail is liable to prove more effective than friendship. This is Tosev 3, after all.”
“I thank you, superior sir,” Gorppet said. He had no trouble telephoning Flensburg. The Race often needed to do so, to tell Deutsch officials what to do. Even though he spoke none of the local Big Uglies’ language, he was quickly connected to Johannes Drucker: plenty of Deutsche, especially those involved with communication, could use the language of the Race. The line was voice-only, but he didn’t mind that; he was not good at interpreting Tosevite facial expressions.
“I greet you, superior sir,” Drucker said once the connection went through. “How may I help you?”
He doubtless meant, How may I hinder you? Big Uglies were not immune to polite hypocrisy. Gorppet said, “I congratulate you on your promotion. And I believe I should also congratulate you on recovering your mate and hatchlings. Is that not a truth?”
“Yes, that is a truth,” the Tosevite replied. “No harm in admitting it now.”
“I hope they are all well?” Gorppet said.
“Yes,” Drucker said again. “I thank you for asking.”
“I suppose you want them to stay well?” Gorppet said. “You must, after searching so long and hard to find them.”
This time, Drucker paused before answering. Gorppet had not thought him a fool. When he did speak again, what he said was, “I do not care for the way this conversation is going. What is your point?”
“My point is that I hope I will not have to tell anyone about your recent friendship with Mordechai Anielewicz,” Gorppet replied. “I believe that would be unfortunate for all concerned. Do you not agree?”
Silence stretched a good deal longer now. At last, Drucker said, “In the language of the Race, I cannot call you all the vile names I am thinking in my own language. I wish I could. What do you want from me in exchange for your silence?”
He caught on quickly, all right. Gorppet said, “Is it not a truth that your government seeks to conceal weapons that should have been surrendered to the Race?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” the Big Ugly said.
“No? That will probably mean I shall have to make some other telephone calls,” Gorppet said.
Drucker spoke in his own language. Gorppet didn’t understand a word, but it sounded impassioned. Then Drucker returned to the language of the Race: “You will want me to betray my own not-empire. That is very hard for me to do.”
“The choice is yours,” Gorppet said.
Another long silence. “You will hear from me from time to time,” Drucker said, breaking it. “You will not hear from me very often, or I would give myself away.”
“I understand,” Gorppet said. “I think we may have a bargain. Do not forget your obligation, or the bargain will come undone. I warn you now. I do not intend to warn you again.”
“I understand,” Drucker said, and broke the connection with what struck Gorppet as altogether unnecessary violence.
But that was neither here nor there. Turning to Hozzanet, Gorppet said, “I believe he is recruited. The true test, of course, will be in what he reveals. If he fails us…” He shrugged. “If he fails us, he will pay the price.”
“He will deserve it, too,” Hozzanet said.
Before Gorppet could reply, his telephone hissed. It was another voice-only connection with a Tosevite on the other end. “I greet you,” the Big Ugly said. “Mordechai Anielewicz speaking here.”
“And I greet you,” Gorppet said in some surprise. “I was just talking about you, as a matter of fact. How may I help you?”
“You need to know something has gone missing,” the Jewish leader answered.
“Do I?” Gorppet thought for a moment. “In that case, I probably also need to know what has gone missing-is that not a truth?”
“Yes,” Anielewicz said. “That is a truth.” He used an emphatic cough.
When the Big Ugly didn’t say anything more, Gorppet realized he would have to prompt him. He did: “Will you tell me what has gone missing, or did you put this telephone call through to tantalize me?”
Mordechai Anielewicz sighed, a sound much like that a male of the Race might have made. “I will tell you. You will have heard, I suppose, that the Jews of Poland possess an explosive-metal bomb captured from the Deutsche years ago, at the end of the first round of fighting.”
“I have heard this, yes,” Gorppet replied. “I do not know whether it is a truth or not, but I have heard it.” His tailstump lashed in sudden alarm. “Wait. Are you telling me-?”
“I am telling you that we do indeed possess this bomb,” Anielewicz said. “Or rather, I am telling you that we did possess it. At the moment, we do not. By we here, I mean the organized group of Jewish fighters who have held it for all these years.”
Gorppet’s head started to ache. “Do you mean to say than an explosive-metal bomb has been stolen?” That got Hozzanet’s complete, and horrified, attention. “If you do not have it, who does?” That seemed a good question with which to start.
“There is no sign of violence in the place where it was kept,” the Tosevite replied. “This leads me to believe some of my fellow Jews have taken it, and not Poles or Russians or Deutsche.”
“I see,” Gorppet said. “And what would Jewish hijackers be likely to do with an explosive-metal bomb?” He answered that for himself: “They would be likely to bring it here, into the Reich, and try to use it against the Deutsche, against whom they have strong motivation for seeking vengeance.”
“That is also my belief,” Mordechai Anielewicz said. “If the Deutsche still have any explosive-metal weapons of their own hidden away, they might be provoked into using them against you-and against us in Poland-if such a bomb destroyed one of their cities without warning.”