“Vaguely. Aren’t you union organizers?”

“We are. We go boldly forth to organize unions were none have been permitted to exist before.”

“Like here on Fetorr?”

“You have it in one, comrade. And I must say that if a planet was ever ripe for organizing this one sure is.”

“It could also do with a little more free enterprise, a good bashing for the police bullies, and the introduction of some pollution controls,” I said.

“That about sums it up. But keep it quiet for now. Meanwhile-what can I do for you?”

“Help us hide our son Bolivar.”

“Is this the same Bolivar diGriz that cleaned out the bank yesterday, killing a number of women and children when he escaped from the police?”

“The same. Minus the women and children of course. Plus the fact that he did not rob the bank.”

“Of course.” He rubbed his jaw and looked around the room. “Do you think he would mind being Megalith Man? He’s having trouble with feedback controls, see.”

There was a stirring in the darkness and a gray creature stumbled forward. Angelina gasped and I had to struggle not to do the same. A rotund bulging forehead almost covered its eyes. Prognathous jaw, clawed fingers and suchlike combined to produce a really disgusting simulacrum of a human being. Gar smiled and nodded.

“Good, isn’t he? One of my best creations.” The creature groaned, rolled its eyes up-and crashed to the floor. “Your son will be safe in there.”

“He certainly will,” Angelina sniffed. “And knowing him I am sure that he will probably enjoy it very much as well.”

“When he arrives we will get in touch with you,” I said. “Thanks.”

“No thanks. The Corps takes care of its own.

I had locked our dressing-room door when we left-and it was still locked. Obviously this hadn’t slowed down the once again male Bolivar who was now staring at the computer screen.

“Your disguise obviously worked,” Angelina said. “I’ll pack those clothes away.” He nodded abstractedly as he typed a quick command into the machine.

“Interesting,” he said. I made quizzical noises.

“I have been using the search engine on your employer.”

“Chaise? Have you found anything of interest?”

“A good deal. For one thing-he doesn’t exist.”

“He must! We have met him!”

“I don’t mean the physical form, he was there all right. I mean the story about Imperetrix Von Kaiser-Czarski, the richest man in the galaxy. I can find no trace of him.”

“Those banks he owns-all over the galaxy…”

“Are not owned by him. They are held by corporations who in turn are owned by other corporations. I have traced back through a number of owners and they all appear to be. different. No trace of Chaise. It looks like everything that he has told you is a lie.”

My head was beginning to hurt. I sat down heavily and checked off the facts on my fingertips. “Firstly-he must be very rich or he would not be paying us four million credits a day. Except for yesterday of course. I checked. Not only didn’t he deposit the money-he left a very insulting note.”

“Of course he paid you. You had to think that he was whom he said he was. The large sums involved made his story plausible. Think how suspicious you would have been if had offered, say, a hundred credits a day.”

“I would have kicked him out! But let us stick with what we know. Secondly, we know that all those banks on all those planets were robbed-that’s a matter of public record.”

“They were indeed. It is the secondary information about those planets that I am concerned about.”

“Such as?”

“The circus performances, what acts were playing on what dates, that kind of thing.”

The coin was slowly dropping into the slot.

“Of course! When you examine a database there is no way of telling if the events ever really happened as they are listedor if they are figments of imagination that a skilled hacker had planted. And there is no way of determining facts from planted facts on a distant planet without getting right into the records themselves, to see if they had been altered. Which, of course, cannot be done from light-years away.”

“My thinking exactly. Which is why I have been snooping around in the databases here on Fetorr. Without much success. There are security locks on almost everything except train timetables. Lots of electronic doors were slammed in my screen.”

“They don’t like snooping.”

“I was sure of that before I started. So I routed all my queries though a number of other systems. I didn’t want them getting back to this computer.”

Even before he had finished speaking the words there was a hammering on the dressing-room door.

“Open up in there! You have thirty seconds to comply before we break this door down.”

“Who is there,” Angelina said.

“Computer Crime Corps. Do not attempt to resist. You are guilty of illegal computer use and the searching of restricted files.”

The Police, of all kinds, were entirely too efficient here on Fetorr. I looked around desperately. There were no windows in the room and but the single door. There was only the screen, which offered privacy when changing costumes, which might provide even a feeble chance to hide our son.

“Bolivar-behind the screen!” I hissed. He was across the room in an instant: the door shuddered and creaked as it was pounded. “Stop hammering-I’m coming!” I shouted.

Angelina was moving too. She closed the computer and put it on the floor, then pulled the armchair in front of the screen, sat down on it. Holding tight to Gloriana’s chain as the disturbed porcuswine champed and raked the floor, her quills all aquiver. I went and unlocked the door and threw it wide. “Did you knock?” I asked sweetly.

He was immensely fat with hanging jowls and giant belly. He pointed an accusatory finger at me and said, “You have been using an illegal computer on these premises.”

“Never ! “

“Search this room carefully, Hafifu,” he ordered. His partner, who was about as skinny as his commander was fat, scuttled into the room. He looked around slowly, beady eyes glinting, thin nose twitching like a rat’s. He looked at the computer, then looked away. Undoubtedly mistaking the computer for a leather suitcase.

“I don’t see no computer here,” he said in a thin and reedy voice.

“Then look behind that screen,” the fat cop blurbled. “You saw the readings. There is a computer in this room someplace. Our detectors never lie.”

Hafifu obeyed the command and walked over and started to look behind the screen. Screamed and retreated as flashing tusks savaged his trouser legs, not to mention his ankles. Instant decision was needed-and saving Bolivar was far important than saving the computer.

“Step back!” I ordered. “That is a savage watchpig trained to kill anyone foolish enough to approach its owner. In any case-the computer is over there. It is built into that suitcase.”

Hafifu circled wide of his porcine persecutor and grabbed up the computer. He opened it, pulled out the keyboard, turned it on and typed furiously. “This is indeed the criminal instrument,” he squeaked.

“What criminal? I was just searching the public records. Is that against the law?”

“Yes!” Fatty said with great enthusiasm. “That is because there are no public records here on Fetorr—everything on record is private. I am confiscating this machine.” Hafifu was out the door with it before I could raise a word of protest. “As well as fining you five hundred credits for attempting to illegally access the private public records.”

“You can’t do that!”

“I certainly can. With power vested in me by the state I can make on-the-spot fines, as specified by the statues. If you have reason to believe this confiscation is doubtful in any way you may ask for a trial.”

“A trial, right!”