“Where do I go? I don’t know anything about this city.”

“There is a mechomart not far from here.”

“You’ll drive me there?”

A look of quick distaste came and went. “Not very likely. Turn right outside the door. And don’t take too long.”

“Yeah, yeah. But isn’t the door locked?”

“Of course. From the outside. Igor will let you back in.”

I tore off my tired sports clothes, at the same time palming my telephone, which I slipped into the prole outfit I had been given. Then washed up, as well as I could, with cold water in the chipped and filthy sink. Dried off my face and gave it a quick feed of chicken soup, emptying the can. I would have to buy more. The work suit was well worn but clean. Chaise was gone when I came out, nor was there any sign of his car in the street outside. There was a bit more traffic now than there had been at night. All of it passing through, since there seemed to be little to stop for in this run-down neighborhood. The traffic light at the next corner was red, with a few pedestrians waiting for it to change. When I joined them a young man turned and put a card into my hand. Advertising? A panhandler? I glanced at it.

DON’T TALK! it read. Followed by PTO.

I did, and the message on the other side was quite specific.

GIVE ME YOUR TELEPHONE.

A street robbery? For the first time I looked closely at the man who had given me the card. Well dressed. Tanned brown skin. Dark beard and mustache. Deep blue eyes that I had seen before.

I shaped the word Bolivar with my mouth. He nodded and held out his hand. I gave him the phone and watched with great interest as he slapped an adhesive pad onto it. The traffic light changed, the cars began to move: he pressed the phone against the rear fender of the nearest one. We watched as it trundled out of sight. I turned to speak and faced the DON’T TALK card again. Then following his beckoning hand into a nearby alleyway. He pulled out a detector and scanned me. Removed a wired five-credit coin from my pocket, then cut a button off my jacket and placed them carefully into a radiation-proof bag. He did not speak until he had sealed it.

“Hi, Dad,” he finally said. “I wasn’t sure it was you at first-nice new face you have there. But I recognized you from the back when you walked out. It is really great to see you.”

“And you as well!”

“When you called last time I zapped back a detector signal and found out that your phone was bugged. That’s why you got the recorded message.”

“Chaise! I thought he might have seen me using it.”

“He undoubtedly did. The tracer spotted you moving all over-then ending up here. I have been watching the warehouse all morning. That was a classic heist.”

“Thank you, it was. But completely without profit I want you to know. I am but an employee and Chaise gets all the profit. Any word on your mother?” I tried not to sound as disturbed as I was.

“None. But not for want of trying. With James here now I can double the effort.”

“James! You were supposed to stop him.”

“He is unstoppable. But he has a new identity. He came as a bank examiner with the Banco Cuerpo Especial.”

“Which is a front for the Special Corps! In here.” We had reached the mechomart; thirst and hunger struck lightning into my midriff. “Food first!” I said as I led the way to Eat-fast Pay-less. He did not join me in a bearburger with fried grasshoppers, which appeared to be the least-loathsome item on the dispenser’s menu. But he added another blue beer to the order. He sipped and spoke.

“James brought me new ID and this new personality as his assistant. So I have retired from the freak-show business. It was fun while it lasted. But wasn’t too great for dating girls. Of course, as a married man I have abandoned that practice. We have done a lot digging in the records here, with some great help from the Special Corps, and we’re getting a better fix on your employer.”

“Chaise. Is he really the richest man in the galaxy?’’ I chewed hard, then picked a grasshopper leg from between my front teeth.

“Far from it. It took a little time to track down his trail. He doesn’t own most of the banks he is supposed to.”

“Smart. I’ll bet that they were just there to con me into taking the job with the circus.” I punched for two more beers. I had to slow down the grasshoppers that were now leaping about in my stomach.

“The circus was a plant as well. I hired private investigators on three different planets who accessed the databases directly. The data they found was all planted and easy enough to see on the spot.”

“But not on a search from another planet. But why did Chaise go to all this trouble?”

He slurped his beer and frowned. “He wanted you on this planet. Just why we are not sure yet. A first guess would be that he needed some crimes committed and wanted a pro like you to do them for him. And he also worked very hard to see that you joined Bolshoi’s Big Top. We think he wants you there as a spy for him. As you know, a good number of the acts are fronts for various interstellar organizations. Perhaps he needed you there to keep an eye on them.”

My brain was churning and seething-as was my stomach. Rusty’s Robot Bar was nearby. I pointed to it. “Let’s move the party over there. Get something to drink that will kill the bear and drown the grasshoppers.”

“Welcome, welcome,” the rusty voice said as I pushed open the swinging door. “Welcome, that is, if you are over eighteen.”

“I’m over eighteen,” I said. “But at times I have the brains of a five-year-old. It is really depressing how easily I fell for Kaia’s con. I am afraid that I must agree with you. The entire thing, the money, the supposed bank robberies, were nothing but a ploy to get me to this dismal planet, then blackmail me into doing his dirty work for him.”

Bolivar looked as depressed as I did as he nodded agreement. We went arid sat at the bar.

“Rusty says Hi gents-and what will it be?

“Got every drink from Ale to Zygodactyl pee.”

Rusty really was rusty, an ancient iron robot studded with rivet heads. I looked at the racked bottles.

“A digestive I said. Something to settle the turn…”

“Minced Rotifer Bitter,” it grated, shooting out an extensible arm. The dark liquid smoked when it hit the glass. I sipped and belched a dragon’s belch. It helped. But I was still depressed.

“I am but a stainless steel slave to this criminal puppet master.”

“Slightly over the top-but basically true. But there is one fact about your puppet master that is most interesting. Although he has some interstellar holdings his core business is here on Fetorr. The private bank, the Widows and Orphans Is’ Interstellar Bank. We know a good deal about that. I think he made me manager there to keep a close eye on me. Then framed me for the robbery.”

“So do I-since I helped him clean it out afterwards. The apparently stolen loot was there under the floor of the vault all the time.”

“What is more interesting than the bank is the fact that he also controls a very large brokerage office.”

I understood the words but not the meaning. The Rotifer Bitter was getting to me. I wiped it off my tongue and threw it on the floor.

“Do again,” I said, enunciating very clearly.

“This appears to be circular trade with a vengeance. First he robs his own bank. When the insurance company pays him off he has essentially doubled his money. Next he cleans out another bank and blames you for it. Then he blackmails you into working for him in order to steal the armored car credits. Which he next launders through his bank to make more investments and more credits.”

“Give him credit for that,” I said and laughed with a strange cackle.

Bolivar lifted an eyebrow and looked worried. “Let’s sit down for a bit. Before that bar stool throws you.”

“Let’s.” I stumbled over and dropped heavily into the booth. “Sorry. I’ve been on pep pills for a couple of days while I was arranging the heist. I don’t think they mix well with the detestable drinks in this place. I had better get back now. How do I get in touch with you?”