The Thief of Thoth

28

"I WONDER, Barsine, if you realize how lovely you look when you are angry," Hautley purred, with that suave self-possession that seldom deserted him, even under the most horrendous of circumstances.

She snorted.

"Thought you could fool me, did you? Phooey!" she crackled. "I had a hunch you had something up your sleeve beside your So I hid off-planet at the edge of your meteor-moat and waited to see if you would come hightailing out of there—which you did!"

"Barsine, I—"

"You buzzed off Carvel before I could even finish having a smoke! So I just followed along after you. If I'd stopped to think what I would do if I were Ser Smart-Nose H. Quicksilver, C.A., I'd have thought of checking up on old Shpern Hufferd, former confederate of the notorious Dugan Motley—which is just what you did."

"Barsine ... !"

"Well?"

"So I went to check up on Shpem Huffered: what, may I ask, does that prove? I told you I was on a job for His Dignity the Proprietor of Canopus—perhaps I wanted to hire Hufferd for the job of scragging Heverefs political foe?"

Her adorably small jaw settled grimly.

"Won't do, Quicksilver! I checked the records. You did not register any contract with anybody this whole entire week, for any caper. So ... either you were lying, and flashed a phony contract under my nose, or you've been cheating on your income tax by not reporting commissions—which is it?"

Hautley was not trapped into a disclosure that easily.

"How could you possibly follow me through pseudospace?" he scoffed shrewdly. "When a ship is under Bettleheim-Ortleigh-Robton Drive transposition it is, by very definition. undetectible, even by gazdar ...”

She smirked triumphantly.

"Simple, you simpleton. When I left your flashy villa, I stuck a 'tracer' on your hull. Now, let's stop shilly-shallying. Who was it who hired you to go after the Crown of Stars, and what did you learn from poor old Dugan Motley—"

Hautley jumped, and turned to bend over the recumbent body of their host.

"Yes, by Arnam's Beard! I knew I'd forgotten something—what about poor old Dugan? They zapped him down, just as you came crashing the party. I wonder if the old walrus is still with us, or ... ?"

He made a swift examination of the body with his pocket medikit. Face cast in an expression of unusual solemnity, he rose slowly upon completion of the task.

"Well?” Barsine inquired anxiously. "Is the old geezer okay, or did they ... ?"

"No, not with the coagulator, thank Space. They zapped with the neuronic paralyzer."

She relaxed. “Thank the Plenum! He's an old rum-guzzling reprobate, but I'd hate to see him fried. If it's only an n-gun, the effects wear off—”

"In fifty-six hours!" Haudey grated tautly. "I can't wait that long for the information I need, and I didn't get one erg of intelligence regarding Thoth from before the Baddies zapped him down. No, there's no point in hoping for help from quarter. His brain'll be in stasis where I can't question it. Damn! Now what'll I do!"

"What about these four scuggers?'' Barsine indicated the four tent poles, still faintly sparking from their finger tips. “Maybe they know something?" Quicksilver eyed them disdainfully.

"Not them—mere hirelings. Turn 'em over to the local native police, will you Barsine, while I—"

"Oh no you don't, Hautley Quicksilver! I know you and your tricks! You'll buzz off in your speedster the microsec my back is turned if I don't keep you in sight! No siree, from here on we work together, or you don't work at all!"

He sighed, but complied. "Well, at least help me drag them into the front hall. You hit them with such a charge, they're beginning to singe Dugan's priceless Artemisian tapestry-carpet"

While Barsine had Dugan's robutler phone for medical aid, and then summoned the local police to pick up the unconscious scuggers, Hautley searched the spark-discharging bodies with swift but microscopic care. He found—nothing.

Moments later they were winging back to downtown Brasilia in Dugan's own aircar. Within moments they were in the sleek cabin of Quicksilver's slim speedster, the fastest thing in space, and the quaint old planet Earth was fading behind them into the sunset.

"So. What's your—our—next move?" Barsine demanded, while making certain subtle repairs in her facial cosmetics.

"Next, my lass, I make a try at lifting the Crown of Stars," he said grimly.