LITMIR.BIZ

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      “You’d better stay here on this terrace out of the way until I’ve spread the word,” Zorn said. “Just in case.”

      “Let me caution you against any…ah…slip-ups, Mr. Zorn,” Magnan said. “The Nenni are not to be molested—”

      Zorn looked at Retief.

      “Your friend talks too much,” he said. “I’ll keep my end of it. He’d better keep his.”

      “Nothing’s happened yet, you’re sure?” Magnan said.

      “I’m sure,” Zorn said. “Ten minutes to go. Plenty of time.”

      “I’ll just step into the salon to assure myself that all is well,” Magnan said.

      “Suit yourself,” Zorn said. “Just stay clear of the kitchen, or you’ll get your throat cut.” He sniffed at his dope-stick. “What’s keeping Shoke?” he muttered.

      Magnan stepped to a tall glass door, eased it open and poked his head through the heavy draperies. As he moved to draw back, a voice was faintly audible. Magnan paused, head still through the drapes.

      “What’s going on there?” Zorn rasped. He and Retief stepped up behind Magnan.

      “—breath of air, ha-ha,” Magnan was saying.

      “Well, come along, Magnan!” Ambassador Crodfoller’s voice snapped.

      Magnan shifted from one foot to the other then pushed through the drapes.

      “Where’ve you been, Mr. Magnan?” The Ambassador’s voice was sharp.

      “Oh…ah…a slight accident, Mr. Ambassador.”

      “What’s happened to your shoes? Where are your insignia and decorations?”

      “I—ah—spilled a drink on them. Sir. Ah—listen….”

      The sound of an orchestra came up suddenly, blaring a fanfare.

      Zorn shifted restlessly, ear against the glass.

      “What’s your friend pulling?” he rasped. “I don’t like this.”

      “Keep cool, Zorn,” Retief said. “Mr. Magnan is doing a little emergency salvage on his career.”

      The music died away with a clatter.

      “—My God,” Ambassador Crodfoller’s voice was faint. “Magnan, you’ll be knighted for this. Thank God you reached me. Thank God it’s not too late. I’ll find some excuse. I’ll get a gram off at once.”

      “But you—”

      “It’s all right, Magnan. You were in time. Another ten minutes and the agreement would have been signed and transmitted. The wheels would have been put in motion. My career ruined….”

      Retief felt a prod at his back. He turned.

      “Doublecrossed,” Zorn said softly. “So much for the word of a diplomat.”

      Retief looked at the short-barreled needler in Zorn’s hand.

      “I see you hedge your bets, Zorn,” he said.

      “We’ll wait here,” Zorn said, “until the excitement’s over inside. I wouldn’t want to attract any attention right now.”

      “Your politics are still lousy, Zorn. The picture hasn’t changed. Your coup hasn’t got a chance.”

      “Skip it. I’ll take up one problem at a time.”

      “Magnan’s mouth has a habit of falling open at the wrong time—”

      “That’s my good luck that I heard it. So there’ll be no agreement, no guns, no fat job for Tammany Zorn, hey? Well, I can still play it the other way, What have I got to lose?”

      With a movement too quick to follow, Retief’s hand chopped down across Zorn’s wrist. The needler clattered as Zorn reeled, and then Retief’s hand clamped Zorn’s arm and whirled him around.

      “In answer to your last question,” Retief said, “your neck.”

      “You haven’t got a chance, doublecrosser,” Zorn gasped.

      “Shoke will be here in a minute,” Retief said. “Tell him it’s all off.”

      “Twist harder, Mister,” Zorn said. “Break it off at the shoulder. I’m telling him nothing!”

      “The 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

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