After a while he had eighteen passports. All he had to do was change his own hair color and draw in some age lines on his own face to agree with the age stated, and he could use them himself!
He now went to work on the driver’s licenses. This was a little trickier as the small color pictures were tinier. He also had to remove the whole license from its lamination in some cases. He would pick up the emulsion from the color picture, put it aside and then put one of himself in its place. He finished them by running them as a batch through a portable lamination machine he had set up.
Eighteen sets of ID. But of what possible use were they to him? Names like Cecchino, Serpente, Laccio, Rapitore . . . All mobster names. They would be known and show up on police computers. And everybody would know by this time that Inganno John Scroccone, Faustino’s chief accountant, was dead. Only those five CIA passports might be of some use and I would bet anything they would trace back as a CIA operative cover. And of a dead operative—Gunsalmo Silva.
Then I began to laugh. I understood what this was all about. He was pinned to the name Wister, of course, by college and friends. But Madison had driven him under cover. Heller couldn’t even register in a motel without some clerk thinking he was the Whiz Kid! We were really wrecking him!
Oh, that made me feel good. I had Heller on the run. He was living in a little tiny room beside his office. He was probably even going to lose that soon. He was undoubtedly low on cash. He had lost the support of Babe and the family. He would probably soon lose Izzy.
A beautiful vision! Heller, broke, adrift as a bum in New York. It had all begun with the brilliance of Lombar. It had been pushed on through by the brilliance of Rockecenter. And with Madison as a hatchet man, the Heller tree was cut down.
He didn’t have a prayer!
That would teach him the stupidity of trying to benefit a planet!
Planets and populations exist to be milked by the power elite. Unless one understood that thoroughly, one could do a lot of stupid things like help people.
The Gods put the riffraff there as prey for superior men like Hisst and Rockecenter. And there was very short shrift for anyone who thought otherwise.
I hugged myself with glee.
Then, at length, I threw a blanket over the viewer.
I had more important things to do than watch the painful demise of a (bleeped) fool Royal officer with silly notions you could help a world.
PART THIRTY-FIVE
Chapter 3
At 9:00 PM, aglow with anticipation, I lay in the bed in my room. All the lights were out, just the way she always wanted it. But there was a big difference: I had taken off all my clothes and, like you wrap a present, had thrown a single sheet over myself.
Was she going to be surprised! Wow! I was making a big thing out of it, of course, but such splendid moments don’t come often in a lifetime.
I heard a slight sound at the door. Then a groping gave a tremor to the bed.
In a moment I felt her weight and warmth beside me. A gentle jasmine perfume filled the air. I began to quiver with excitement. “Darling,” I whispered.
I put out my hand to encircle her. She was fully clothed as always at such moments.
She withdrew slightly. “What’s this surprise?” she said.
I groped for and found her hand. I guided it under the sheet. I made the fingers touch my chest and then began to press her hand downwards.
“Feel this,” I whispered, a little choked with passion. “Look what I’ve got for you.”
I made her fingers connect with me.
“What the HELL?”
Oh, I knew she would be surprised!
Her fingers recoiled. Then they reached again, encircled my member.
“Hey!” she said. “What kind of a trick is this? A falsie? A dildo? Well, we’ll see about THAT!”
Her fingers began to pluck all around the edges, then at the surrounding area. The fingernails were pretty sharp. She was trying to find if there was any strap to hold it on.
“No, no,” I said hastily. “It’s real!”
“We’ll see about that!” she said grimly.
She wrapped her fingers around it, held on hard and gave it a mighty yank!
“OUCH!” I shrieked.
“By Allah the Merciful, it IS real!”
Aha, I knew she would be amazed!
She was feeling the top of it, getting an idea of diameter and scope.
She drew back and sat up suddenly.
“You (bleepard)!” she said. “You treacherous, rotten (bleepard)!” An ill-aimed fist hit me in the jaw! “First you’re so god (bleeped) small nobody can even find it! Smaller even than the little boys! Now, you’re so god (bleeped) big nobody could get it into anything!”
Did I hear a watch running? Yes! There was the luminous dial of a stopwatch. She must be studying it. Making sure her five minutes expired!
“Utanc, please,” I begged. “I am sure there is a way. Utanc, I did it all for you. Please think again. Please give me your hand. It isn’t that bad. It’s really just a little bigger than normal! And it has other advantages, Utanc . . . .”
The button of the stopwatch went click. “Five minutes,” she said. “I want you to witness that I stayed five minutes in your bed.” She pushed the dial close to my face and it glowed green. She had been there five minutes all right.
“Please, Utanc,” I wept. “You have no idea . . .”
“Listen, you (bleepard). I am tired of your tricks! You go to such EXTREMES! One minute you couldn’t even please a flea and the next minute you would wreck a camel! I am going to my room now and don’t you bother me again until you decide to be more NORMAL!”
She got off the bed. The door slammed! She was gone.
I lay there in shock. All my anticipation had been aroused to the bursting point. The sudden twist of events left me in midcareer. My heart was pounding with unspent passion while my brain reeled with shock.
I tried to lie quietly, hoping that I would settle down. Instead, I began to twitch.
I couldn’t lie still. I got up.
Thinking that she might be experiencing remorse, maybe even crying with frustration herself, I went to the receiver of the bug I had long ago planted in her room. I turned it on.
There was more volume in it now. Maybe it had been moved to a better place when the credit card people had tried to strip the house of rugs.
I could hear water running. Then I heard some clinks and clatters. Then Utanc’s voice, “Wake up, you little dears. No reason to sleep your lives away.”
Some “What’s this?” and “Huh?”s from the two little boys. Then some “Oh, goodies.”
The clink of glasses. Was she giving them their evening milk?
Then some Turkish music. Probably recorded. Savage. Primitive. The rhythmic pounding of a foot. Then the swish and swirl of fabric. Then the clash of swords together in rhythm. My own body began to respond, no matter that I couldn’t see her dance.
The voices of the two little boys began to rise in gasps of appreciation.
Then suddenly a change. The cura irizva striking bold and savage chords. Then Utanc’s voice in song:
You may be small,
But, oh, you’re good.
I would eat you,
If I could.
Why should hunger
Be in fashion,
When you’re there,
To slake my passion?
So off with hat,
Let down your hair,
I’m going to eat
Your table bare!
Now I’ll throw
You into bed.
You better hide!
There goes your head!
The clatter of the cura irizva being thrown down.
Small shouts of surprise.
The swish and rustle of sheets and bed.
Squeals of delight!
I couldn’t stand any more. I turned the receiver off. My passion was at a bursting point. I lay down in my bed.
My
arms were empty. I ached. I had never ached before like this. Painful. Awful!
And for hours I lay there like that.
I realized that there was no torture to compare with unsatisfied desire! All centralized in a very sensitive place!
PART THIRTY-FIVE
Chapter 4
The next morning it was very cold. The electric fire had blown a fuse. I got into a blue ski suit. Warming my hands around some kahve, I thought it over carefully. I came to a desperate decision.
I would stop being true to Utanc.
I phoned the taxi driver and when he came, I had him drive down the road a few yards. There was a turn-in there where another villa had been burned in centuries past and one could go a few feet off the road and park under a cedar tree while still retaining full view of any traffic.
He shut off the engine. The sigh of wind in the cedar was very mournful. He turned in his seat, pushed his sheepskin cap onto the back of his head and waited for me to speak. He obviously could see that I was troubled.
“I’ve got to do something about Utanc,” I said.
He digested that. He thoughtfully lit a cheap Hisar cigarette. “You can’t get anything out of a trade-in,” he said. “The bottom is out of the market. Things have gotten even worse behind the Iron Curtain. Hundreds of thousands of girls have come over the border. Threatened with rape from the Red Army, it was a case of either infection or defection. They chose the latter. Can’t say as I blame them. You ever feel the beard on one of those Ivans? Or see the body lice? Fleas, too. No, Officer Gris, we’re stuck with her.”
“I don’t mean to make a big thing out of it,” I said. “But a long look at it has convinced me the matter isn’t going to settle down.”
“Well,” he said, “you never can tell what you’re getting into in these things.”
“You’ve got to come up with something,” I said. After all, he was the only one who seemed to care what happened to me. And the criminals on Modon are a pretty smart lot. “The situation is wide open to suggestions.”
The cedar sighed. Three camel loads of opium went by, led by a farmer and a donkey, heading toward the Agricultural School. The farmer looked at us curiously.
Deplor, alias Ahmed, waited until they were out of sight. Then he threw away his cigarette in sudden decision. “I don’t want to get you into any tight spots you can’t get out of, Officer Gris. I have your best interests at heart. So, I tell you what you better do. You better give me some money and I’ll get some women for you.”
“No more slaves!” I said hastily.
“No, no,” he said. “I got you into a hole on that one. And you don’t want any prostitutes, either. The type I have in mind are just women who need money for a dowry. They need money to get married. You can get a one-night stand with such a woman. Good lookers, too. Lots of variety. Different one every night. Spread it around. And they’re real hot, too.”
Oh, that sounded good!
He continued, “Now, to do this right, you should have a big car. Women go in for big things and that includes a big car. You remember that bulletproof limousine I told you about? The ex-general’s car? The one who got shot? It’s still for sale up in Istanbul.”
A snag suddenly occurred to me. “Wait. You can’t get women on a credit card. And I’m trying to swear off, anyway.”
“On women?” he said, astonished.
“No. Credit cards. I hate the things.”
“Well, you don’t need to use credit cards,” he said. “Just deal in cash. So if you’ll just give me some money . . .”
It was time to confess. He was, after all, my friend. “I’m stone-broke,” I said. “I don’t have any money at all.”
The taxi driver started up the car rather quickly, I thought. He dropped me off at the villa up the road. He didn’t even say goodbye.
I stared after him.
(Bleep)!
It was all too plain to me that it took money to get things done. Life without money, as I had always known, was death.
I limped back to my room with this awful ache.
(Bleep) Prahd!
I decided some physical work might take my mind off my plight. I warmed up my secret office, stripped myself down and began to clean guns, sweep away old clothes and, by late afternoon, began to straighten up the mess of fake gold bars and the boxes.
Puttering around, I was mostly done when I saw that one of the cases had fallen onto some packages of unexamined mail.
Idly, and with no thought, I picked up some of the letters. They had been forwarded from the Section 451 office on Voltar and had come in on recent freighters. Faht’s orderly had slipped them through the slot in the tunnel door.
Routine stuff. A notice that I’d been dropped from the Academy Alumni Association for the nonpayment of dues. A bill from a gun dealer on Flisten—years old and I didn’t intend to be on duty on Flisten soon. An advertisement for new General Services officer caps “that would remain undamaged under the hardest blows of troops’ cudgels.” An ad for the latest release of “the ever more popular sweetheart of Homeview, Hightee Heller” song strips, featuring hits from the new musical show that was “jamming Voltar theaters nightly: Bold Prince Caucalsia.” A warning that I had not acknowledged reading the latest general Apparatus order about filling in forms that listed the correct sequences of forms and must fill in the attached form at once. A new type of chank-pop that “totally eradicated for seconds at a time the gaseous odors of troops.” A special offer to Apparatus officers only—a fun gift for their friends—exploding boots. An electronic bird whistle, available in dozen lots, that called in selected types of female songbirds for breeding purposes.
What’s this?
Two personal postcards? The kind you send to friends and are wide open in the mails for anyone to read. Who could this be? I didn’t have any friends.
I looked at the signature and gaped. The Widow Tayl!
The first card said:
Soltan Gris
Section 451
Please Forward.
Yoo-Hoo. Wherever you are. I’m just coming along great.
What shall we name it?
Why don’t you write?
The lovey-dovey woman you heartlessly abandoned,
Pratia
Return to Pratia Tayl
Minx Estate
Pausch Hills
Oh, my Gods! Open like that right through the office for anyone to read! You could be cashiered for knocking somebody up and not marrying them! The law was all on her side.
The second card was worse! It said:
Soltan Gris
Officer of the Apparatus still, unless his commanding officer finds out he didn’t marry me if he didn’t the next time I see him.
Yoo-Hoo! Wherever you are.
He is just coming along fine. It is too soon to feel him kick yet. What schools shall we send him to when he is born? How about the Academy like his father? And maybe buy him a commission in the Fleet. Please waste no time in writing me quickly so as to save all the tedious trouble of hiring lawyers which is so time wasting when one could be so nicely busy doing other things.
The loving pregnant girl you left behind,
Pratia Tayl
Minx Estate
Turn right off the main road
at the Inn of the Rutting Beast.
Pausch Hills
PS: Young officers are always welcome, in or out of uniform, to look into this case.(You can also use the landing pad day or night.)
(Bleep) her!
She was trying to get me into trouble! The one thing I had vowed from earliest youth was never, never, NEVER to get married! Who wanted cooking utensils sizzling through the air around one’s head? Who wanted all the killings that followed digging brother officers out of your wife’s bed?
And, curse it all, Prahd said he had certified and registered her pregnancy before he left Voltar!
(Bleep), (bleep), (BLEEP) Prahd! It was a good thing he was legally dead. Otherwise, I wou
ld have shot him out of hand!
Bad off as I might be for women, it could never include the Widow Tayl! She murdered husbands at the slightest pretext. But I had to be honest. That wasn’t the real reason.
I could just plain never, never forgive her for her fixation on Heller. The nerve of her, with me right there, having automatic (bleeps) just at the thought of that (bleeped) Heller! And even when she had only seen him just once for less than a minute. Never even talked to him!
Oh, the Widow Tayl was not for me! I might be hard up but not THAT hard up!
Let her go on dreaming of Heller all she liked. I was safely twenty-two and more light-years away!
But it served to cool my ardor off a bit. I almost stopped aching in the place where it hurt. To Hells with her and to Hells with Heller!
And then I thought of having rooted Heller out of the Gracious Palms. To deprive him of those women was rare punishment. I had the upper hand when all was said. I laughed.
I thought I had better take the blanket off his viewer and enjoy his discomfiture.
PART THIRTY-FIVE
Chapter 5
He was standing in a park, looking out across the East River. A wintry wind was putting small whitecaps on the water and gulls were flying low.
He turned and his eyes rested for a moment on the Statue of Peace and then, passing on, looked down the Esplanade where the flags of many nations streamed and whipped.
Heller was at the United Nations!
A chill of premonition that had nothing to do with the stormy cold he saw swept across me. What business could he possibly have there?
His gaze was watchful on the broad walkway before the doors of the General Assembly Building, looking often down East 46th Street. I knew the area well: He was expecting someone from the city to arrive here in the United Nations area.
A group caught his attention. There were five in it. They were caped and hooded in furs. It was possible that he did not expect them to see him as he moved forward into plainer view.
The group stopped. One of them pointed at the distant Heller. They all looked.
Then they began to run toward him. They were calling out glad cries. “Pretty boy!” “Oh, you darling!”
They were running toward him and he was running toward them.