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you off on this great expensive dangerous trip merely for petty personal motives?"
"If you call wanting to get his daughter back a petty personal motive, yes."
"But but that is sheer romanticism! And I thought all the time you were involved in
some profound matter of interplanetary intrigue; something to do with government
policies and interstellar relations! Now turns out nothing but pursuit of runaway young
woman!" He shook his head.
"Okay, but how about your opening up with me? I may need help on my project, and I
can't hire a local yokel for reasons you can guess. Maybe you're in the same fix. How
about it, huh?"
Chuen thought a while, then said: "I ah I think maybe you have reason, so here goes:
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I'm an agent for Chinese government with special commission from World Federation. I
started out to try trace a shipment of fifty machine guns consigned from factory in
Detroit to my government for their security police. These guns start out all right but
don't arrive.
"Now, economically speaking, fifty machine guns is nothing at all to big government,
but still nobody likes to have stolen guns floating around in hands of the criminal class.
So, they put Chuen on job. Trail leads first to gangsters in Tientsin, who keep only
twenty-six of guns and pass the other twenty-four on to an official of Viagens
Interplanetarias.
"Things are obviously getting beyond national scope, so my government gets me a
special commission from W. F. to run down missing guns. I find they've been brought to
Krishna, to be smuggled out of Novorecife for delivery to some local potentate. The local
potentate will use them to conquer the planet, or at least as much of it as can manage."
"Who was to do the smuggling out of Novorecife?" asked Hasselborg.
"Don't know. Somebody on the inside, no doubt."
Hasselborg nodded. "But who gets the guns? Don't tell me, let me guess. Anthony
Fallon, right?"
"Right again."
Hasselborg lit a cigar. "Have one? No wonder I ran into you here. It seemed too good
for a coincidence, but with you on the track of Tony's guns, and me after his girl, our
paths were bound to cross. Where are the guns now?"
Chuen shrugged. "Wish I knew. I heard a story that a mysterious crate has been hidden
in the Koloft Swamp by one of gangs of robbers that live there, but was no way for me to
find them. Swamp not only big, but full of unpleasant monsters, too. However, since I
felt sure they'd be delivered to Majbur for Fallon to pick them up, I came here to try
intercept them. Been here days, checking boats and rafts that come down the river and
trying to pick up a lead in bars and restaurants."
Hasselborg said: "I may be able to help you there," and told the rumor of Fallon's
impending arrival in Majbur. "I imagine whoever's in charge of the guns will arrange to
have them here when Fallon arrives."
"I imagine, too. What connections you got in Majbur?"
"King Eqrar gave me a letter to his envoy Gorbovast."
"Good. Can you ask Gorbovast when Fallon is expected?"
"Not very well; I'm supposed to be here on a short vacation and not to be interested in
Fallon, and I suppose old Eqrar will check up on me through Gorbovast. Could you?"
"Maybe. I am friend of Chief Syndic, who know Gorbovast. Maybe the syndic knows.
We see."
The following afternoon, Chuen came upon Hasselborg sitting on the top of a pile on the
biggest pier and giving a convincing imitation of a congenital loafer. Chuen said:
"The syndic say Fallon due to arrive tomorrow night or early next day. Guns must
arrive soon. Are you sure nothing's come in this morning?"
"Not a thing except a towboat with two passengers and no freight at all, and a timber
raft from way up-river with nothing on it except a stove and a tent for the raftmen.
Tamates, haven't we forgotten about Qadr? Any piers over there?"
"Yes, but they're only used for fishing boats and such. All big commercial traffic uses
this side."
"Well, mightn't our mysterious friends be landing in Qadr for just that reason?"
"Maybe, now that you mention it. What shall we do about it?"
"Suppose you take over here, and I'll go across the river and look around."
"All right."
It transpired that the ferry was across the river and would not return for another hour.
Hasselborg killed time by strolling about the piers and through nearby streets to orient
himself and by pumping another sucker in a bar. Another empty sack. Fortunately
impatience was not prominent among Hasselborg's vices.
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When he returned to the ferry pier, it was to find a crowd watching the efforts of a crew
in the uniform of railroad employees trying to keep a bishtar calm. The ferry was
unloading. The spectators watched with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, hold-
ing themselves poised for flight in case the huge animal got out of control.
When the last wagon rumbled off and the sails had been furled and reset, the ferry
master signaled to board the boat. Some of those who had been intending to do so,
seeing that they were to share the craft with the bishtar, changed their minds. Others
got on, but huddled in the corners of the vessel, leaving as large a clear space as possible
for the monster.
The bishtar, under the urging of its keepers, put out a foot and gingerly tried the deck of
the ferry. Apparently not liking the yielding sensation, it shied back. The men yelled and
whacked it with sticks and pulled on goads, which they hooked into its thick hide. The
bishtar squealed angrily and rolled ugly little eyes this way and that but finally let itself [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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