“I really shouldn’t accept…”

“You better accept, kid. We’re friends. Don’t get me in more trouble! Now, is there anything else you can think of that you want?”

“Well,” said Heller, “I don’t see any TV.”

Vantagio said, “Jesus, I’m glad you didn’t tell her I’d forgotten that! Nobody looks at TV in a whorehouse, kid. It just never occurred to me. I’ll send out somebody to rent one. All right, kid?”

Heller nodded. Vantagio went to the door and then came back. “Kid, I know what you did here. You saved the joint. But you must have done something else. But even that… She treats you so different. Could you let me in on what you and she talk about?”

“Genealogy,” said Heller.

“And that’s the whole thing?”

“Absolutely,” said Heller. “That’s all that happened today.”

Vantagio looked at him very seriously. Then he burst out laughing. “You almost took me in for a minute. Well, never mind, I’m lucky to have you for a friend.”

He started toward the door again but once more stopped. “Oh, yes. She said you could have any of the girls you wanted and to hell with the legality. See you later, kid.”

My concentration on the viewscreen was jarred by a knock on the secret passage door that led to the distant office. I had raised so much pure Hells with Faht that he had finally gotten it through his lard-padded skull that he must send an Apparatus messenger with any reports that came in from America. And here was one! I removed it from the door slit. I opened it with trembling fingers. Possibly Raht and Terb had gotten smart. Perhaps they would be of help!

I read:

We think he is done for. We traced him to the city garbage scows and he’s now somewhere on the bottom of the Atlantic. Be assured we’re on the job.

The idiots! That shop had simply thrown away those bugged clothes!

But the surge of anger hardened my resolve to act. I would carefully survey the Gracious Palms area and his rooms, note exactly where he put things, exactly what his routine was. Then I would disguise myself as a Turkish officer assigned to the UN, penetrate the place, pick his room locks, get the platen out of his baggage, plant a bomb and escape. It was a brilliant plan. It came to me in a flash. If I could do that, Heller would be dead, dead, dead and I would be alive!

Sternly, I went back to the viewscreen. He would unpack shortly, of that I was sure, for the houseman had left the baggage on the cart.

Heller was still walking around his suite. While it might not be up to his rooms at the Voltar Officers’ Club, it had its own peculiar charm: girls! Each lamp stand was a naked torso, each throw rug had a golden girl in its pattern.

He walked up to one of several paintings on the wall and stopped and stared at it and said something in Voltarian I didn’t get. It was a beautiful painting. A brown-skinned girl, dressed mainly in red flowers, was posed against palm trees and the sea. It was, if you know painting, a conceptual representation, which tends to dominate the modern school.

He bent close to look at the signature. It was Gauguin.

I know painting values: one does when he is interested largely in cash. If that painting were an original, it was worth a fortune!

I hastily played back what he had first said. I knew my own reaction would have been to steal it. Maybe I would include that in my planning. I must know what his own intentions were with regard to it.

He had said, “The boat people!” Ah. One of the Atalanta races he and Krak had talked about.

He had moved on to a second Gauguin.

A new voice penetrated the room. “No, no, no!” It was Chief Madame Sesso. Her mustache was bristling. She was wagging a finger at him, very disapproving. “No! Young-a boys should-a not-a look at-a dirty pictures! You not-a goin’ to do-a nasty things-a here! If-a the young-a signore, he’s-a want to look at-a the naked women, he’s-a goin’ to-a do-a it right!”

She fixed him in place with a finger, grabbed the phone and spoke an avalanche of Italian into it. She slammed it down. “Right away, you gonna get me-a in-a bad trouble if-a it ever gotta out I taught-a you to look at-a dirty pictures! Mama mia! What would-a the customers theenk!”

There was a running patter of footsteps. A small woman burst into the room in a near panic!

She had a short nose, beautiful teeth, raven black hair, high, firm breasts. She was a golden brown. She had European stockings and a chemise on and was holding a silk robe about her. She was obviously a Polynesian!

Luscious!

“Wot ees eet?”

“I catch-a this-a young signore, he’s-a look at the dirty pictures on th’ wall. Now, Minette, you go right-a now and you jump in-a his bed. Quick-quick!”

“No, no,” said Heller. “I just want to look!”

“Aha!” said Minette. “A voyeur.”

“No, no,” said Heller. “There are some people in… in my native land that look exactly like you. I just wanted to look…”

“Aha, you zee, Madame Sesso,” said Minette. “A voyeur! He get hees keeks by the look, so!”

Madame Sesso walked sternly up to her. “So you-a let-a the young signore look!” And she snatched at the robe. It came half off, baring Minette’s firm, uplifted breast. Like a golden melon!

But Minette stepped back. “Madame Sesso. You air crooel! Zee business she is nothing, nothing. For t’ree week, I have no man. Zee bed ees empty. I go half mad. All zee girls, zey talk about thees boy. Eef I do zee strip, I go wil’ for heem, Madame Sesso.”

Madame Sesso was upon her. Her hand seized the shoulder of the silk robe and gave it a yank. It flew up to block Heller’s vision. “You-a will do-a the strip right-a now!” bawled Madame Sesso.

Heller was trying to get the silk robe off his face.

“Aw right!” shrieked Minette. “I go get zee grass skirt, I go get zee flowerz een my hair. Zen I do zee strip. But only on zee one condeetion zat afterwards he…”

The picture went into streaks! The sound became a roar!

I could not see what was going on! I could hear only that roar!

What a shock!

Interference of some sort!

It was the first interference I had seen on this system.

The equipment had failed!

I checked power. All fine. I turned up pin. I only got more roar. It was not the quiet blackness when he was asleep.

I wondered for a moment if it were an emotional overload in the subject.

I tried to think of everything I could, made all the guesses of which I was capable. Finally, I dug out the instruction book. I had never read all of it.

Finally, on the next to the last page, I found an entry:

As the equipment is used in a carbon-oxygen body, it must, of necessity, be hypersensitive to the carbon atom and molecule wave configuration.

The only known disturbance of the double-wave pattern employed can come from carbon spectrum emitters. These are extremely rare devices but the spy should be warned to stay at least a hundred feet from such an energy emission source if present in the culture where the spy is being employed.

And that was all it said. And as Heller did not know he was being employed, one could not, of course, warn him.

But warn him of what? What in Hells was a carbon spectrum emitter? It was one of the few times I was sorry I had not done something to stay awake in Academy classes. There must be one now within a hundred feet of Heller! But on an electronically primitive planet like Earth?

Whatever it was, it had me boxed! I turned down the gain. I looked at the jagged mess on the screen. Haggardly, I slumped over the equipment, helpless.

It was midnight where I was. The days of strain were telling on me.

I went through the secret door into my bedroom. I made the cook get up and fix me some hot soup. At length, I dropped into a restless sleep.