The World Shuffler (13 page)

“I don’t get it. If this old dame is on the prince’s payroll same as you, how come she jumps you?”

“She thought I’d double-crossed her, led Duke Rodolpho’s men to her.”

“Chee—you know Duke Rodolpho? His Grace fired in a inquiry some time back, wanted quotes on a Personal Aura Generator; but we couldn’t get together on price.”

“The point is—this Krupkin fellow must be behind the kidnapping. Only something went wrong, and Lady Andragorre was snatched out from under his nose before the old lady could take delivery.”

“This Lady A is from Rodolpho’s duchy, huh?” Sprawnroyal shook his head. “It don’t make sense, Slim. That’s a long way out of his territory for a strong-arm play.”

“He lured her out of town first—she thought she was going to a rendezvous with some slicker named Lorenzo who’d insinuated himself into her good graces, not knowing the miserable sneak intended to hand her over to Krupkin.” Lafayette rubbed the unbruised side of his face. “But who could have intercepted her?”

“Who indeed? It could of been anybody. The woods is full of cutpurses and footpads. Better forget it, Slim, and let’s get back to business. Now, about that overdue payment—”

“Forget the most beautiful, wonderful, faithful, marvelous creature who ever wore a bikini? You don’t seem to understand, Roy! At this very moment she may be in the most terrible danger— lonely, scared, maybe being tortured, or ... or
...
”

“You said yourself she was on her way to a get-together with some guy name of Lorenzo, Slim,” Sprawnroyal said in a reasonable tone, smearing jam on his third slice of golden-brown toast. “Looks like Krupkin’s cut out of the pattern anyway, so why sweat it?”

“I told you, she was tricked!”

“Oh. You mean the guy told her he wanted her to look at some property, or take a test spin in a new model coach?”

“No, it was to be more of a trial honeymoon, as I understand it,” O’Leary confessed. “But that’s neither here nor there. Someone grabbed her, and I want to get her back!”

“How about this Lorenzo guy? You figure him for the snatch?”

“Well—I suppose he could have done it. Maybe he changed his mind at the last moment and couldn’t go through with Krupkin’s plan. In fact, the more I think of it, the likelier it seems. He probably abducted her from the coach as planned, and then instead of taking her to the hut, he took her ... somewhere else.”

“Nice piece of deductive reasoning, Slim. So I guess the best man won—and they live happily ever after. Well, maybe not really the best man, who knows, maybe he’s scared of old ladies too; what I mean is—”

“I know what you mean!” Lafayette snapped. “Listen, Roy: I have to find her!”

“I’ve got to admire your loyalty to your boss, Slim—but I’m afraid he’ll have to line up something else—”

“To heck with my boss! Anyway, I may as well tell you: he’s not my boss.”

“You mean—you quit?”

“I never worked for him. You leaped to a faulty conclusion. I’m sorry.”

“Then—where’d you get his signaler?”

“If you mean this ring—” Lafayette held up the sparkling red stone. “Duke Rodolpho gave it to me.”

“Huh?” Sprawnroyal grabbed O’Leary’s finger and gave the gem a careful scrutiny.

“It’s Krupkin’s, all right.” The little man lowered his voice. “On the level, Slim, what’d you do, slit his throat to get it?”

“Certainly not! I’ve never even seen the fellow!”

Sprawnroyal shook his head, his eyes hard on O’Leary. “It don’t figure, Slim. How would the duke get the prince’s ring? His Highness set a lot of store by that gimcrack—I know.”

“All I know is, the duke had it—and he gave it to me.” Lafayette tugged at the ring, slipped it over his knuckle. “Here,” he said, “you can have it back. I don’t want it. I’m only interested in finding Lady Andragorre.”

His host weighed the ring on his palm, looking grim.

“Slim, you’re in trouble,” he said; he pushed back his chair. “Come on; you and me better go see Flimbert, our security chief, trial judge, one-man jury, and enforcer. He won’t like this development at all, at all. And on the way you better think up a better story than the one you told me. Otherwise, I’m afraid we’ll have to invoke the full rigor of Ajax Commercial Regulations.”

“What does that mean?” O’Leary snapped. “You’ll cut off my credit?”

“Not quite, Slim. More like your head.”

Flimbert was a round-faced, hairless gnome with half-inch-thick lenses which looked as though they were permanently set in his head. He drummed his pudgy fingers on his desktop as Sprawnroyal gave his account of O’Leary’s appearance. “I checked: the ring’s one of the ones we made up for Prince Krupkin, all right,” he finished.

“It looks like a clear case of murder and grand larceny, compounded by unauthorized entry, false pretenses, and perjury,” Flimbert piped in a voice like a peanut whistle. “Any last words, you?” He looked at O’Leary like an angry goldfish peering through its bowl.

“Last words? I haven’t even had my first ones yet! All I know is I was crawling along peacefully, minding my own business, when I fell down that lift shaft of yours! And I didn’t say I was from Krupkin—that was Roy’s idea. And where do you get that murder charge? Talk about conclusions of the witness—”

“Prince Krupkin would never have let his personal signaler out of his sight. Ergo, you must have killed him to get it. Open and shut. By the power vested in me—”

“I told you, I got the ring from Rodolpho!”

“Equally unlikely. Krupkin wouldn’t have given it to Rodolpho either—”

“But he did! Why don’t you check my story, instead of railroading me!”

“Hey, Bert,” Roy said, rubbing his massive chin. “I been wondering: why would Slim here come up with a story as screwy as this unless it was true? And if he was trying to pull something, how come he told me himself he wasn’t from Krupkin? He could’ve fooled me: the guy has a fantastic grasp of the prince’s affairs.”

“Hey,” Lafayette protested. “It’s an old trick,” the security chief said. “Reverse cunning, we call it in the security game; indistinguishable from utter stupidity.”

“Welcome to the club,” Lafayette said. “Look, Krupkin gave the ring to Rodolpho; Rodolpho gave it to me. I came here by accident, and all I want now is to leave—”

“Impossible. You’ve been caught red-handed, fellow. Unauthorized possession is the worst crime on the books. You’re going to spend the next three hundred years chained to a treadmill in level twelve—”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you,” Lafayette snapped. “I won’t live three hundred years.”

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t realize you were sick. We’ll just make it a life sentence then; don’t feel badly if you can’t go the whole route.”

“That’s thoughtful of you. Say, just as a sort of intellectual exercise, why don’t you spend thirty seconds or so considering the possibility that Rodolpho did have Krupkin’s ring?”

“His Grace with his Highness’s ring?” Flimbert put his fingertips together and looked grave. “Well, first, it would be a gross breach of the conditions of sale. Secondly, it would be quite unlike Krupkin, who never does anything without a good reason.”

“So—he had a reason! Aren’t you curious as to what the reason was?”

“I wonder.” Sprawnroyal picked up the ring, held it to his nose, and studied it. “He couldn’t’ve tinkered with it ...?”

“Nonsense; only a man trained in our own shops—” Flimbert broke off. “Now that you mention it, Krupkin was trained in our shops ...”

“Yeah—and he’s a top man, microengineeringwise,” Sprawnroyal put in. “Cripes, but—could the guy have had a angle he was working?”

The security chief whipped out a jewelers’ loupe, examined the ring.

“Just as I thought,” he said crisply. “Tool marks.” He laid the ring aside, poked a button on his desk. “Security to lab,” he barked.

“Pinchcraft here,” a testy voice responded. “What do you want, I’m in the midst of a delicate operation.”

“Oh—the gnat-borne miniaturized-TV-camera project?”

“No, I was fishing the olive out of my martini with a paper straw. I almost had it when you made me jiggle it!”

“Forget the olive; I’m on my way down with a little item I want you to take a look at before I carry out the death sentence on a spy!”

The laboratory was a rough-hewn cavern crowded with apparatus as complex and incomprehensible to O’Leary as a Chinese joke book. They found the research boss perched on a high stool before a formica-topped bench poking at a glittering construction of coils and loops of glass tubing through which pink and green and yellow fluids bubbled, violet vapors curled.

Security Chief Flimbert handed over the ring. The research chief spun on his stool, snapped on a powerful light, flipped out a magnifying lens, bent over the ring.

“ A-ha,” he said. “Seal’s broken.” He pursed his lips, gave O’Leary a sharp look. With a needle-pointed instrument, he prodded the bezel of the ruby, flipped open a tiny cover, revealing an interior hollow packed with intricate components.

“Well, well,” he said. “Haven’t we been a busy boy?” He put the ring down and quickly placed an empty coffee cup over it.

“Find somethin’?” Roy asked anxiously.

“Nothing much—just that the entire device has been rewired,” Pinchcraft snapped. “It’s been rigged to act as a spy-eye.” He glared at O’Leary. “What did you hope to learn? Our trade secrets? They’re freely available to the public: hard work and common sense.”

“Don’t look at me,” O’Leary said. “I haven’t tampered with it.”

“Uh—the ring was made up for Prince Krupkin,” Roy pointed out.

“Krupkin, eh? Never did trust that jumped-up jack-in-office. Sneaky eyes.”

“Yeah—but Slim here says he didn’t get the? bauble from Krupkin. He claims it was given to him by Duke Rodolpho.”

“Nonsense. I remember this order now: I designed the circuits myself, in accordance with Krupkin’s specs. Yes, and now I see why he insisted there be no modifications! The thing was shrewdly designed for easy conversion. All he had to do was switch the A wire to ground, the B wire to contact A, the C wire to contact D, reverse wires D and E, shunt wire F off to resistance X, and throw in the odd little black box. Nothing to it.”

“I still got it from Rodolpho,” Lafayette said hotly. “He gave it to me as a safe-conduct for a mission I undertook for him.”

“You’ll have to think up a better story,” Flimbert said. “That ring wouldn’t get you through a schoolboy patrol line.”

“Say,” Roy put in, “maybe he meant to give you the ducal signet—I saw him wearing it when we were dickering. It’s got a ruby, too, with a big RR carved on it. Maybe he grabbed the wrong one. How was the light?”

“Wet, as I recall,” Lafayette aid. “Look, gentlemen, we’re wasting time. Now that the misunderstanding is cleared up, if I could have my clothes back, I’ll be on my way—”

“Not so fast, you!” Pinchcraft said. “We have methods of dealing with those who renege on the solemn fine print in a contract!”

“Then see Krupkin, he’s the one who signed it.”

“He has a point,” Pinchcraft said. “Krupkin, as contracting party, is ultimately responsible. This fellow is merely an accessory.”

“What’s the penalty for that?”

“Much less severe,” Flimbert said grudgingly. “Only one hundred years on the treadmill.”

“Hey, that’s a break, hey, Slim?” Roy congratulated him.

“I’m overwhelmed,” Lafayette said. “Look, fellows, couldn’t we work something out? A suspended sentence, maybe?”

“Hey, maybe we could give him a feat to perform,” Roy proposed. “We got a couple lines of hand-painted neckties that ain’t been moving. Maybe he could go on the road with ‘em—”

“This is all wrong!” O’Leary protested. “Krupkin is the one behind this—I’m just an innocent bystander. And I think he’s also behind the Lady Andragorre’s kidnapping.”

“That’s no concern of ours.”

“Maybe not—but I thought you had dire penalties for anybody who tinkered with your products.”

“Hmmm.” Flimbert fingered his nose. “We do, at that.”

“Listen,” O’Leary said urgently. “If Krupkin could convert a personal signaler to a spy-eye, why couldn’t you rewire the ring to reverse the action?”

“Eh?”

“Rig it so that instead of relaying sounds from the vicinity of the ring back to Krupkin, it would transmit sounds from Krupkin to you.”

Pinchcraft frowned. “Possibly. Possibly.” He signaled for silence, lifted the cup. Holding the ring in the light, he went to work. The others watched silently as he probed inside the case, murmuring, “... wire B to Contact D ... conductor E to remitter X ... red ... blue ... green ...” After ten minutes, he said “Ha!,” closed the back of the ring, and held it to his ear. He smiled broadly.

“I can hear him,” he said. “No doubt this ring is tuned to its twin, which Krupkin keeps on his person.” He handed the ring to Flimbert.

“Ummm. That’s his voice, all right.”

“Well—what’s he saying?” O’Leary demanded.

“He’s singing. Something about a road to Mandalay.”

“Let me listen.” Flimbert gave him the ring; he held it to his ear: “... Bloomin’ idol
made of
mu-ud ...
what they
called
the great god
Buddd ...” The words came indistinctly through the sound of running water. Lafayette frowned. The voice seemed to have a half-familiar note. Abruptly, the singing cut off. Lafayette heard a faint tapping, followed by a muttered curse, footsteps, the sound of a door opening.

“Well?” the voice that had been singing said testily.

“Highness ... the pris—that is to say, your guest declines to join you for breakfast—with, ah, appropriate apologies, of course.”

“Blast the wench, can’t she see I’m trying to make her comfortable, nothing more? And don’t bother lying to me, Haunch. That little baggage doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘apology.’ She’s done nothing but stamp her foot and make demands since the moment she arrived. I tell you, there are times when I wonder if it’s worth all the maneuvering involved, trying to set up shop as a benevolent despot.”

“Shall I, er, convey your Highness’s invitation to lunch?”

“Don’t bother, just see that she has whatever she wants served in her room. Keep her as content as possible. I don’t want her developing frown lines or chapped knuckles while in my care.”