Somebody had called the medical staff. They had heard the shots and were prompt. They loaded the bodies on the stretchers.
“Take them directly to the morgue unless you want to examine them first,” said Terl.
“They're both dead,” said the medical chief. “Blast gun wounds.”
“Move along,” said Terl efficiently to the crowd. “It’s all over.”
Tomorrow morning he would write his report, all backed by witnessed statements: An agent of the I.B.I., recognized by the keen eye of Terl, had not seen fit to announce himself to the planet's security chief but, proceeding alone, had apparently visited Numph late in the evening and possibly had attempted a foolhardy, single-handed arrest. Numph had shot him with a hidden gun and then committed suicide. Terl had now followed through, seeing whether Numph were guilty of some crime, had continued an investigation begun long since, and had found a pay swindle, papers, and evidence to hand. Meanwhile, Terl respectfully submitted all was under control; a competent, experienced deputy
Numph had earlier appointed was now on the job; etc. Bodies en route at next semiannual firing, Day 92.
Tomorrow afternoon, as soon as he had verified the animals were still there, he would launch the drone and obliterate “the foolish experiment Numph had been engaged upon.” All evidence would be covered, all tracks obliterated. Whatever Jayed had been after, it made no difference now.
Terl felt very calm, very cool, very masterful. He had brought off the perfect crime.
It was odd that he couldn't sleep and kept twitching.
Part XI
Chapter 1
It was the consensus of opinion at the mountain site that they all should be very visible and look busy for the flyover of the drone today.
Jonnie was very concerned. It was absolutely vital that Terl continue with his gold scheme. All their own plans depended on it utterly.
They had weighed various alternates to their own strategy but none of them was good. They could fly into the old defense base now– Angus had gotten the heliport door to work– but they only used it for supplies. It was a long way from ready. The parson's idea that they should bury the dead there was shelved due to the magnitude of the task and their own few numbers. The parson had decided the place was really a tomb anyway. Later, perhaps, when they had freed the planet– if they succeeded in that– they could bury the dead. Now their energies must be devoted to the living and a possible future. So they really couldn't withdraw into the old primary defense base. It wasn't ready and they were not defeated. Not yet anyway.
Keeping Terl going on with his plan was their single hope. But Jonnie was very concerned. In that last interview he realized Terl was no longer sane, if he ever had been.
Gold was the bait in the trap for Terl. So Jonnie added to their plans.
They worked in a rush from the last passing of the drone yesterday to prepare for its passing today.
The lode core he had blasted out had hit the opposite side of the canyon and rebounded back in shattered pieces to lie upon the top of the new rockfall at the canyon bottom.
Jonnie fashioned a remote-control box for a blade scraper machine they could afford to lose.
Robert the Fox fashioned a lifelike dummy to strap into the seat. The dummy's hands in mittens were rigged to move back and forth when the machine ran. Knowing the macabre was Terl's favorite dish, he also wadded up scraps of discarded clothing and patterned it with steer blood.
They rigged an ore net to the end of a crane cable and filled it with white quartz from the upper tunnel. Taking what wire gold they had, they encrusted the top of the lode with the specimens.
In the black, brief period of no wind at dawn, they cabled the blade scraper down to the top of the rockfall.
An operator hidden in a cleft at the top of the cliff on the opposite side of the canyon, from which perch the blade scraper could be seen, made the scraper make a flat place (at risk of its toppling into the river) and dig into the pile.
The ore net, with its carefully prepared load, was craned down to the side of the blade scraper.
It was ready long before the drone came, so Jonnie gathered them at the top of the shaft.
“Wire gold goes in pockets,” he told them. “It says so in the old man-manuals on mining. There is a possibility that there is another pocket in this vein. It could be two hundred, five hundred feet up the vein from the cliff. It could have little gold, it could have much.
“What we've got to do now is reverse direction on the vein and drift along it into the mountain. It will be much faster since we can blast now.
“So rig this cage again so it doesn't slip and get to work mining up that vein. We have about sixty days left until Day 92. Probably we will have to deliver the gold by Day 86. So get going and hope!”
“And pray.”, added the parson.
Chapter 2
A very masterful Terl sat in the morning sunlight of his office, pen held in claws, carefully not trembling. He was about to write the report and round off his perfect crime.
His day was efficiently planned. He would write the report, get the latest recon pictures after the drone passed over, and, if the animals were there, fire the drone. Zzt was nattering to anybody that would listen that it blocked the hangar firing gate and he could not get ore freighters in and out to service them, and so Terl would get Zzt to insist he fire it to save space. Then he would see Ker and threaten him into being cooperative as the new Planet Head.
But Terl somehow felt unhappy. This morning sunlight, dancing across his rug, even though filtered by the colored lead glass of the canopy, was a reminder he was still on this accursed planet. Gone were his dreams of a wealthy Terl, living in luxury on Psychlo. But no matter. One had to do what one had to do.
For the tenth time he started to write the report. So far, he had not gotten through the first line of the heading, much less the report. Something was nagging him.
Ah, yes! He didn't have Jayed's badge or badge number! The agent had been reaching into his shirt, undoubtedly to show him the badge and identification disc of an I.B.I. operative. Also, if he knew the medical department, they had just dumped the bodies on the benches and he had better put them on ledges.
By plan he would have to have ten bodies. He now had five, counting the three guards that had blown themselves up. He sighed. It had been
a beautiful plan: put the gold in the coffins, ship them home, and when he returned there, dig up the coffins some dark Psychlo night, melt them down, and lord it over everyone as a very rich fellow! Well, that was all finished now. The arrival of Jayed had ended it. And the treacherous animals had betrayed him.
He needed the badge and I.B.I. identification number. He would feel better if he cuffed Jayed's body a time or two. He picked up a breathe-mask and went out of the compound.
As he passed the cage of the females he noticed a bundle of food and firewood had been left outside the gate. He gave it a kick and would have passed on when he realized that “psychic powers” might prematurely alert the animals in the mountains. He shut off the electrical circuit with his remote, opened the cage door, and threw the bundle violently at the two females. It landed in their fire and the small one scrambled to salvage it before it burned. He noticed the other one was holding a stainless steel man-knife from some old ruin. He went over and wrested it out of her hand. Then, remembering “psychic powers,” he attempted to pat her on the head.