"Oh, I know that."
"So here is what we are going to do. You are going to pretend to be interested in buying ..."
"Oh, I can't do that. I don't have my purchase form books."
"You gave me your word." He slumped a bit. "So I did."
"Good. You are being very patriotic. The computer was right." That helped, so I plunged on. "You don't have to buy anything at all. I want you to simply inspect the items as though interested in purchasing them. Then I, without them suspecting, will glance at the parts numbers of the pieces they show you and compare them to the parts numbers of those stolen. And if we are right, we will simply go away and I will call my Army Intelligence seniors, they will stage a raid and we will have the whole thing cleared up." He seemed to hesitate. "It will look nice on your already splendid record. Even a citation." I think they also put citations on tombstones, I added to myself.
In Supply, they don't have much of a crack at citations. You almost never see any braid on their chests. It was the clincher.
"Now," I continued as he sat there gloating, "I will slip out and make a call. I'll be right back." I went to a booth and slid his identoplate into the slot and called the number I had already carefully located. It was that of a small specialty electronics firm that flamboyantly called itself THE EYES AND EARS OF VOLTAR COMPANY.Nobody answered. I glanced at my watch. The colonel had taken so long to sober up that we had gone past business hours. But I was prepared for that. I had the residence number of the owner. Using the colonel's plate, I reached him.
"I'm sorry. The store is closed," he said.
"Closed to a million-credit possible contract?" I said.
He pushed the lever that lets one inspect the caller's identoplate. There was an intake of breath. "I'll get my whole sales staff down there. ..."
"No, no!" I said hastily. "The devices we are interested in are only your most secret devices. We don't want anyone to know we are considering such a massive order of them. Do us the favor of coming alone. We must maintain secrecy!"
"Will 1930 be all right?" It would be dark. That would be fine. "Don't light the place up," I added. "There have been agents from the Calabar revolt spotted in town. But don't be afraid. I will have an armed bodyguard with me, posing as a civilian technical expert." That was fine, so I hung up.
I verified that the colonel had a private aircar on call.
The pantsless waitress was presenting a check to be stamped when I got back to the table and the colonel was looking through every pocket in alarm. "I've lost my identoplate!" Smoothness is the essence of an Apparatus trained agent. With the colonel's identoplate in my palm, I scraped around on the dark floor under his feet, amongst the litter of discarded cold cloths. I reached up and dropped it on the table. "You ought to be careful of that," I said. "Never drop an identoplate!" He took it thankfully and stamped the check. "I thought for a moment we'd have to use yours!" he said, laughing.
That would be all I'd need. I was shortly going to have two murders on my hands. No traces left in the club! No, thank you! I even gave the waitress a five-credit tip – it was the colonel's money.
We had not too much time and I had to hustle him along. We got outside and his aircar drove up! He had a driver! I had not counted on a driver. This one looked so tough he must have to shave with a blastgun.
Complications! I had thought that a privateaircar would mean no driver. But that's the way the Army must do things. Wasting personnel all over the place. Lombar's plans for the riffraff would cure this overpopulation!
As we flew off, the colonel said, "Won't they suspect you are after them if you go in in that uniform?" It was the very hint I was looking for. I was not going to be seen walking out of that club in the gaudy uniform of Army Intelligence only to be remembered in case of an investigation.
"I have predicted that. With your permission." And I moved further back in the spacious rear of the aircar. "Turn out the interior lights, please. We have certain professionalisms in Army Intelligence." In the dark, I scrambled around, got out of the Army Intelligence custard and into the common civilian one-piece and its haberdashery and shoes. I checked to make sure all my weapons were in place in the civilian attire. I took out some scientist-looking spectacles and put them on. I signified they could turn the interior lights on again.
"My, what a change!" said the colonel admiringly. The (bleeped) fool. My makeup hadn't been changed, only the funny glasses added.
"Now, they may be desperate," I said. "Is your driver armed?" Boy, this was way out of the sphere of activity of Supply! Exciting! The driver patted his holster. I insisted that I check that it was operational. When I got the gun in my hands, I opened it, verified its charge and, as I closed it, covertly bent the firing electrode over so it wouldn't connect. "All fine," I said, handing it back.
It was quite a flight to Commercial City and I was afraid we would be late. I spotted the darkened, small factory and store for them and the driver flew down and parked in back.
Chapter 5
The owner, all by himself, bless him, opened the back door and let us in. A wiry, elderly man, he stood there rubbing his hands together so hard I thought the skin would come off.
This area was a storeroom, display room and a counter. There is not much mass to bugging devices.
"Colonel," he said. "I am Spurk, the owner of the Eyes and Ears of Voltar. I am delighted to be able to serve you. However, as you know, our truly secret devices can only be marketed to the Army . . . ." The colonel showed his identoplate.
I gave him the briefest peek of the Professor Gyrant Slahb identoplate.
So that was fine!I told him we were really interested in the latest subcranial devices.
Spurk ignored all the stuff on the shelves. That was just common bugging stuff for wives on the trail of their husbands and Domestic Police checking on their superiors. He carefully worked the combinations of plates that opened a big vault door and began to bring out the real goodies.
"It is very fortunate that we have just developed some superlative items," he said. "They passed the laboratory and test stages with wonderful marks. And frankly, you are here anticipating their actual offer to the Army." Oh, was my luck holding! I had gotten, months before, a rumor of this and it was true!
Spurk had a box on the counter. It was the kind you put diamonds in, all soft lined. He took a pair of tweezers from another desk. He opened the box and, like somebody handling a precious stone, removed the device. You could barely see it!
"This is the newest. Older ones had to be inserted in contact with the actual optical nerve. This one operates by induction. It can be within two inches of the optical nerve, so long as it is bone-immersed, and it will work clearly and splendidly."
"I don't quite understand it," said the colonel, playing his part.
I picked up a glass and made like I was looking for numbers on the thing Spurk held. I covertly winked at the colonel, with a slight nod. Numbers? The thing itself was smaller than the tiniest numbers.
"It is a respondo-mitter," said Spurk. "It is activated by a totally new and undetectable wave from an external source. This device here," and he tapped a box he had not opened, "sends a continuous wave to the respondo-mitter. In turn, the respondo-mitter, secretly introduced into the patient's temple or brow bones, to use layman's language, then picks up and amplifies the internal current of the optical nerve and transmits it to the receiver." And he tapped the box.