The Keith Laumer MEGAPACK®: 21 Classic Stories. Keith Laumer

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ kidding’s over, Zorn,” Retief said. “Call it off or I’ll kill you.”

      “I believe you,” Zorn said. “But you won’t have long to remember it.”

      “All the killing will be for nothing,” Retief said. “You’ll be dead and the Rotunes will step into the power vacuum.”

      “So what? When I die, the world ends.”

      “Suppose I make you another offer, Zorn?”

      “Why would it be any better than the last one, chiseler?”

      Retief released Zorn’s arm, pushed him away, stooped and picked up the needler.

      “I could kill you, Zorn. You know that.”

      “Go ahead!”

      Retief reversed the needler, held it out.

      “I’m a gambler too, Zorn. I’m gambling you’ll listen to what I have to say.”

      Zorn snatched the gun, stepped back. He looked at Retief.

      “That wasn’t the smartest bet you ever made, Mister; but go ahead. You’ve got maybe ten seconds.”

      “Nobody doublecrossed you, Zorn. Magnan put his foot in it. Too bad. Is that a reason to kill yourself and a lot of other people who’ve bet their lives on you?”

      “They gambled and lost. Tough.”

      “Maybe you haven’t lost yet—if you don’t quit.”

      “Get to the point!”

      Retief spoke earnestly for a minute and a half. Zorn stood, gun aimed, listening. Then both men turned as footsteps approached along the terrace. A fat man in a yellow sarong padded up to Zorn.

      Zorn tucked the needler in his waistband.

      “Hold everything, Shoke,” he said. “Tell the boys to put the knives away. Spread the word fast. It’s all off.”

      * * * *

      “I want to commend you, Retief,” Ambassador Crodfoller said expansively. “You mixed very well at last night’s affair. Actually, I was hardly aware of your presence.”

      “I’ve been studying Mr. Magnan’s work,” Retief said.

      “A good man, Magnan. In a crowd, he’s virtually invisible.”

      “He knows when to disappear all right.”

      “This has been in many ways a model operation, Retief.” The Ambassador patted his paunch contentedly. “By observing local social customs and blending harmoniously with the court, I’ve succeeded in establishing a fine, friendly, working relationship with the Potentate.”

      “I understand the agreement has been postponed.”

      The Ambassador chuckled. “The Potentate’s a crafty one. Through…ah…a special study I have been conducting, I learned last night that he had hoped to, shall I say, ‘put one over’ on the Corps.”

      “Great heavens,” Retief said.

      “Naturally, this placed me in a difficult position. It was my task to quash this gambit, without giving any indication that I was aware of its existence.”

      “A hairy position indeed,” Retief said.

      “Quite casually, I informed the Potentate that certain items which had been included in the terms of the agreement had been deleted and others substituted. I admired him at that moment, Retief. He took it coolly—appearing completely indifferent—perfectly dissembling his very serious disappointment.”

      “I noticed him dancing with three girls wearing a bunch of grapes apiece. He’s very agile for a man of his bulk.”

      “You mustn’t discount the Potentate! Remember, beneath that mask of frivolity, he had absorbed a bitter blow.”

      “He had me fooled,” Retief said.

      “Don’t feel badly; I confess at first I failed to sense his shrewdness.” The Ambassador nodded and moved off along the corridor.

      Retief turned and went into an office. Magnan looked up from his desk.

      “Ah,” he said. “Retief. I’ve been meaning to ask you. About the…ah…blasters. Are you—?”

      Retief leaned on Magnan’s desk, looked at him.

      “I thought that was to be our little secret.”

      “Well, naturally I—” Magnan closed his mouth, swallowed. “How is it, Retief,” he said sharply, “that you were aware of this blaster business, when the Ambassador himself wasn’t?”

      “Easy,” Retief said. “I made it up.”

      “You what!” Magnan looked wild. “But the agreement—it’s been revised! Ambassador Crodfoller has gone on record….”

      “Too bad. Glad I didn’t tell him about it.”

      Magnan leaned back and closed his eyes.

      “It was big of you to take all the…blame,” Retief said, “when the Ambassador was talking about knighting people.”

      Magnan opened his eyes.

      “What about that gambler, Zorn? Won’t he be upset?”

      “It’s all right,” Retief said, “I made another arrangement. The business about making blasters out of common components wasn’t completely imaginary. You can actually do it, using parts from an old-fashioned disposal unit.”

      “What good will that do him?” Magnan whispered, looking nervous. “We’re not shipping in any old-fashioned disposal units.”

      “We don’t need to,” Retief said. “They’re already installed in the palace kitchen—and in a few thousand other places, Zorn tells me.”

      “If this ever leaks….” Magnan put a hand to his forehead.

      “I have his word on it that the Nenni slaughter is out. This place is ripe for a change. Maybe Zorn is what it needs.”

      “But how can we know?” Magnan yelped. “How can we be sure?”

      “We can’t,” Retief said. “But it’s not up to the Corps to meddle in Petreacs’ internal affairs.” He leaned over, picked up Magnan’s desk lighter and lit a cigar. He blew a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. “Right?”

      Magnan looked at him, nodded weakly. “Right.”

      “I’d better be getting along to my desk,” Retief said. “Now that the Ambassador feels that I’m settling down at last—”

      “Retief,” СКАЧАТЬ