Throy Page 6

  * * *

  Chapter 2

  * * *

  Chapter 2, Part I

  In the morning, shortly before his return to Araminta Station, Egon Tamm spoke a second time to the folk of Stroma. In this decision he had been influenced by the comments of his daughter Wayness. She had told him: “Your statements were clear and distinct, but you were too formal and not at all friendly.”

  “What?” Egon Tamm was surprised and a bit nettled. “I spoke as Conservator, of whom dignity is expected. Should I tell jokes and dance a jig?”

  “Of course not! Still, you need not have looked so menacing. Some of the old ladies think you are planning to march them off to a penal camp.”

  “That is absurd! I was dealing with a serious subject; I tried to approach it in a suitably serious manner.”

  Wayness shrugged. “I’m sure that you know best. Still, it might be nice if you were to talk to everyone again and explain that Araminta Station is far more comfortable and pleasant than Stroma.”

  Egon Tamm reflected. “It’s not altogether a bad idea - especially since there are one or two points I would like to bring up again.”

  For this second address to the folk of Stroma, Egon Tamm tried to convey the impression that his ordinary temperament was genial and tolerant - as indeed it was. He wore casual clothes and spoke from Warden Ballinder’s untidy office, half-leaning half-sitting on the table in a manner he hoped would seem informal and even jaunty. His features, which were regular, austere and somewhat saturnine, were more of a problem, but as best he could he assumed a kindly and cordial expression and began his address.

  “Last night I spoke to you without advance indication as to what I was about to say. Perhaps I was too emphatic, so that my message came to you as a shock. Still, I believe that you deserve to have the clear uncompromising facts at your disposal. Now everyone understands the force of the Charter and continuity of the Conservancy. There must be no mistake or misunderstanding or self-deception.

  “We do not minimize the inconvenience which you must suffer, but the compensations are significant. Each family or household will be allowed a residence situated in one of four communities, or a tract of arable land in the back country, if this is preferred. The first community will parallel the beach south of Riverview House. The second will be situated in the hills west of the station. The third will surround a chain of four circular lakes west and north of Riverview House. The fourth will be adjacent to Araminta Station itself, just south of Wansey Way, on the other side of the River Wann. Each house will be situated on at least two acres. The family may design the house to suit their own needs, within reasonable limits. We are anxious to avoid uniformity. If anyone wants a more elaborate establishment, he must pay for the construction himself, with our blessings. We have no ambition to stratify our society along levels of prestige, wealth or intellectual attainment, but we will not enforce egalitarianism upon persons whose instincts prompt them in a different direction.

  “Sign your name to the list as soon as possible - if only because the information helps us with our planning. Remember, Araminta Station will not function as an inter-planetary retirement community. Everyone who is able works for the Conservancy, one way or another.

  “In general, this is what you can expect. The first to put their names on the list will have the first selection of site - though I think that everyone, early and late alike, will be pleased with their new circumstances.”

  Egon Tamm slid off the desk, faced the camera and smiled. “I hope that I have relieved some of the anxiety you might have felt after hearing me last night. Remember only that you must obey the law, which is to say, the Charter. If you choose otherwise, you will incur the usual penalties for illegal behavior. This cannot come as a surprise to anyone.”

  From the office, Egon Tamm and his party ascended to the air terminal, accompanied by a miscellaneity of town’s folk. Rufo Kathcar was not present, nor did he appear before the group departed for Araminta Station.

  * * *

  Chapter 2, Part II

  Three days later, Glawen was summoned to Bureau B headquarters, on the second floor of the New Agency, at the end of Wansey Way. He reported to Hilda, the crusty old virago who for uncounted years had guarded Bodwyn Wook against visitors and other intruders. She grudgingly acknowledged Glawen’s presence and indicated the bench where he would wait a proper forty minutes or so, “- to let some gas out of his bloated Clattuc ego.”

  Glawen said politely: “I think the Supervisor wants to see me at once; that is my impression.”

  Hilda gave her head a stubborn shake. “Your name is not on the list and he is very busy at the moment. He may be able to spare you a few minutes later in the day. While you are waiting, prepare your material so that you can be logical and succinct. Bodwyn Wook gives short shrift to juniors who stammer and burble and waste his time.”

  “All else to the side, you had better let him know that I am here. Otherwise –”

  “Whatever, whatever! ‘Patience’ was never a word in the Clattuc speech!” Hilda touched a button. “Glawen Clattuc is here, stamping back and forth in an outrage. Do you want to see him when he is acting so wild?”

  Bodwyn Wook’s responsive remarks rattled the speaker. Hilda listened a moment, raised her eyebrows, then turned to Glawen. “You are to go in at once. He is annoyed by the lethargic way in which you have responded to his summons.”

  This had been a relatively easy encounter. Glawen slipped past Hilda and pushed through the door into the inner office. Bodwyn Wook swiveled around in his tall-backed leather chair, which emphasized his lack of stature.1 He greeted Glawen with a brisk wave of the hand and indicated a chair. “Sit.”

  Glawen silently took a seat.

  Bodwyn Wook, leaning back, clasped his fingers across his small round belly. So far there had been no sign that he harbored any lingering traces of resentment in connection with Glawen’s recalcitrance in the inn at Stroma. Still, Bodwyn Wook was devious and his memory was notoriously long. For a moment or two he surveyed Glawen through heavy-lidded yellow eyes. Glawen waited passively. Bodwyn Wook, so he knew, liked to surprise his subordinates, on the theory that such small startlements kept them on the alert. Nonetheless Bodwyn Wook’s initial remark caught Glawen off guard.

  “I understand that you are contemplating matrimony.”

  “That is the plan,” said Glawen.

  Bodwyn Wook gave a prim nod. “No doubt you have taken all necessary advice on the subject?”

  Glawen looked suspiciously toward the bland face. “All that was necessary - which was not very much.”

  “Just so.” Bodwyn Wook leaned back in the chair and gazed toward the ceiling. His voice took on pedantic overtones. “The subject of matrimony is rife with a thousand myths. It is not at all a trivial subject. As an institution, it probably antecedes the history of the Gaean race. Much time and effort have been devoted to the topic, both in theoretical study and in the practical research of several quadrillion human beings. The consensus seems to be that the institution is not inherently logical and that many of its aspects are needlessly arbitrary. Still, the system persists. Unspiek, Baron Bodissey, has pointed out that, were it not for the institution of marriage, evolution need not have differentiated the sexes with quite such loving care.”

  Glawen wondered where the conversation might be leading. At Bureau B, when an operative was summoned to the inner office, the level of Bodwyn Wook’s discursiveness was considered a gauge as to the difficulty of the task he was about to assign. Glawen felt a twinge of uneasiness. Never before, in his experience, had Bodwyn Wook rambled on so capriciously.

  Nor had he come to an end. Frowning toward the ceiling he mused: “As I recall, Wayness was born in Stroma.”

  “That is correct.”

  “Our problems at Stroma, along with those at Lutwen Atoll, are now serious. Wayness must feel a degree of personal involvement.”

  “Mainly, she wants the affair settled quickly and pain
lessly in accordance with the Charter.”

  “So do we all,” declared Bodwyn Wook piously. “We can allow no more shirking; each of us must put his shoulder to the wheel.”

  Aha, thought Glawen. At last we are coming down to cases. “And you have found a wheel for my shoulder?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.” He rearranged the papers on his desk. “Our colloquy with Rufo Kathcar was not a success. No one was sympathetic. You were as dreary as a dead fish, Scharde was caustic, Egon Tamm made no secret of his doubts, while I was somewhat too noncommittal. All in all, we were not at our best, and an opportunity went flitting.”

  Glawen looked out the window and along the flow of the Wann River. Bodwyn Wook watched him keenly, but Glawen allowed not so much as a twitch to disturb the serenity of his expression.

  Apparently satisfied, Bodwyn Wook relaxed in his chair. Events had now been rearranged in what would henceforth be the official version. “This morning I decided to renew contact with Kathcar. To this end I called Warden Ballinder. He informed me that Kathcar had not been seen for several days. Apparently he has gone into seclusion.”

  “There may be another explanation.”

  Bodwyn Wook gave a curt nod. “Warden Ballinder is looking into the matter.”

  Glawen had no wish to return to Stroma, to find Kathcar or for any other reason. He and Wayness were currently preoccupied with plans for the house they would build after their marriage; it was a most interesting process.

  Bodwyn Wook continued. “Now we must use what crumbs fall our way. Kathcar hinted at much but told us little. He mentioned the names ‘Lewyn Barduys’ and ‘Flitz.’ It seems that Barduys is active in the transportation industry. Smonny and the LPF want transport to ferry the Yips ashore. Barduys can provide this transport hence he is a popular man, as well as hard to find, which evidently is the way he likes it.”

  “Has the IPCC any information?”

  “He has no criminal record, so there is no file on him. The current Gaean Industrial Directory lists him as principal stockholder in several companies: L-B Construction, Span Transit, Rhombus Cargo Transport, perhaps others. He is an extremely wealthy man, but he keeps himself out of sight.”

  “He is not invisible. Someone must know something about him.”

  Bodwyn Wook nodded. “This brings us to the subject of Namour, who supplied Barduys with a gang of Yip laborers.”

  “It seems a complicated business,” said Glawen in a subdued voice. Whoever ultimately took this case in hand would find little time for private activities, such as discovering the exactly right site for a new home, and making all kinds of other interesting decisions.

  “So it does. Namour took most of his indentured Yips to Rosalia. Barduys is not included in the Handbook’s list of Rosalia ranchers - which may mean much or nothing.”

  “You should ask Chilke,” said Glawen. “He spent quite some time on Rosalia.”

  “That is a good idea,” said Bodwyn Wook. “Now then: to business! You seem particularly adept with these off-world cases -”

  “Not really! It only seems that way! A dozen times I have escaped death by a hair’s breadth! It is a wonder -”

  Bodwyn Wook held up his hand. “Modesty is rare in a Clattuc, and it becomes you. However, I am almost inclined to look for an ulterior motive!”

  Glawen had nothing to say. Bodwyn Wook went on: “Bureau B manpower is stretched to the limit, what with our continual patrols and inspections, so low-rank operatives like yourself must be sent to deal with important affairs.”

  Glawen pondered a moment, then said: “If you promoted me to a higher rank it would ease half your problem.”

  “All in good time. Hasty advancement makes for a poor officer; that is tried and true doctrine, valid across the ages. Proper seasoning, over eight or, better, ten years will be to your ultimate benefit.”

  Glawen made no comment. Bodwyn Wook went on briskly: “Despite all, I am entrusting this investigation to you. It will, of course, take you off-world - where I cannot predict. Keep in mind that you are looking for both Barduys and Namour, although Barduys is your primary concern. No doubt he will easily be found through his business connections. I mention Namour because Barduys and the Yip labor gangs may provide a clue as to Namour’s whereabouts. It is natural to think of the world Rosalia and Shadow Valley Ranch in this connection. You must deal cautiously with Namour; he is a callous and resourceful murderer. We have much unfinished business with him back here at the Station, and he will make no mild submission. Indeed, according to rumor, he runs with a gang of bloody-minded thugs. Still, you will deal with him relentlessly and make a standard Bureau B arrest.”

  “Alone?”

  “Certainly! Never forget that in your person resides the full force and consequence of Bureau B!”

  “Very good, sir! I will remember this point. Still, my death will not solve your personnel problems.”

  Bodwyn Wook, leaning back in his chair, surveyed Glawen dispassionately. “You have some valuable qualities, patience and persistence among them, which help make you a competent operative. But I suspect that your most valuable adjunct is luck. For this reason I doubt if you will be killed or even maimed. Your marriage will still be viable when you return - provided that you do not stay away too long.”

  “I almost feel sorry for Namour, once I lay my hands on him,” Glawen muttered.

  Bodwyn Wook ignored the remark. “Report here tomorrow at noon for your final instructions. In the afternoon you will board the Mircea Wanderling which will take you down the Wisp to the junction at Soumjiana.”

  * * *

  Chapter 2, Part III

  On the following day, five minutes before noon, Glawen arrived at the Bureau B offices. He checked in with Hilda, who languidly glanced at a list. she shook her head. “He is in conference at the moment; you’ll have to wait until he is free.”

  “Please tell him that I am waiting,” said Glawen. “He asked me to report at noon precisely.”

  Hilda grudgingly spoke into the communicator, and sniffed disapprovingly to hear Bodwyn Wook’s emphatic response. She jerked her head toward the door. “He says for you to go on in.”

  Glawen entered the office. Bodwyn Wook was not alone. In a chair to the side sat Eustace Chilke. Glawen stopped short and stared, momentarily taken aback. Chilke gave him a casual wave of the hand, along with a rather sheepish grin, as if he too recognized the incongruity of his presence here in Bodwyn Wook’s office.

  Chilke had been born at Idola, on the Big Prairie of Old Earth. At an early age, the lure of far places had become irresistible, and he had gone off to explore the worlds of the Gaean Reach. The years went by, and Chilke wandered here and there. He visited strange landscapes and exotic cities, where he dined on odd concoctions and slept in strange beds, sometimes in company with mysterious companions. He worked at many employments, acquiring a variety of unusual skills. Arriving at Araminta Station, he found a congenial environment and came to rest. He now worked at the air terminal, where an important title ‘Director of Air Operations’ augmented his relatively modest stipend.

  Chilke, a few years past the first flush of youth, was of middle stature and sturdy physique, with innocent blue eyes and short dusty-blond curls. His features were blunt and somewhat askew, which gave him an air of droll perplexity, mixed with muted reproach for the tribulations which had been his lot in life. Sitting now to the side of Bodwyn Wook’s office, Chilke seemed quite at ease, his manner unconcerned.

  Glawen seated himself and tried to appraise the condition of Bodwyn Wook’s disposition. The signs were not reassuring. Bodwyn Wook sat bolt upright at the edge of his chair, squinting as he arranged the papers on his desk. He darted a sharp yellow glance toward Glawen and finally spoke. “I have conferred at length with Commander Chilke. It has been a useful exercise.”

  Glawen acknowledged the remark with a nod. He might have pointed out that Chilke’s title was more correctly ‘Director,’ but Bodwyn Wook would not th
ank him for the correction.

  “I have ascertained that Eustace Chilke is a man of many competencies and wide experience. I believe that this is your opinion?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Yesterday you expressed timidity at the prospect of conducting an off-world mission alone.”

  “What!” cried Glawen, jarred from his passivity. “No such thing!”

  Bodwyn Wook appraised him under hooded eyelids. “You did not express such diffidence?”

  “I said that I doubted whether I could capture Namour and a gang of thugs single-handed!”

  “It is all the same, one way or the other. You have convinced me that for the proper prosecution of this mission, two agents are required.” Leaning back in his chair, he put the tips of his fingers together. “Eustace Chilke, along with his other qualifications, is also acquainted with the world Rosalia, which may well figure in the investigation. Therefore I am pleased to announce that he has agreed to participate in this mission. You will not be alone, as you feared.”

  “I will be happy to work with Chilke,” said Glawen.

  Bodwyn Wook continued. “It is important that you both be equipped with official authority. Therefore I have appointed Chilke to the full status of a Bureau B agent, and consequent Accreditation with the IPCC.”

  Glawen began to feel bewildered. “Isn’t Chilke too old to start agency routine? Did you explain the four years of junior training and all the development programs?”

  “Chilke’s unique capabilities allowed us to bypass the standard regimen. He cannot be expected to take a cut in salary; therefore he has been appointed to a rank of appropriate salary-level. The rank which Chilke has earned for himself is ‘Sub-Commander’: a grade between ‘Captain’ and full ‘Commander.’