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diff --git a/21627.txt b/21627.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9812123 --- /dev/null +++ b/21627.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1712 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Gambler's World, by John Keith Laumer + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Gambler's World + +Author: John Keith Laumer + +Release Date: May 28, 2007 [EBook #21627] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GAMBLER'S WORLD *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, V. L. Simpson and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + Transcriber's Notes: + + This etext was produced from "Worlds of If" November 1961. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the + U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. + + Obvious typesetting errors have been corrected. + ======================================================== + + + + +GAMBLER'S +WORLD + +By KEITH LAUMER + + +Illustrated by GAUGHAN + + + + +I + + +Retief paused before a tall mirror to check the overlap of the four sets +of lapels that ornamented the vermilion cutaway of a First Secretary and +Consul. + +"Come along, Retief," Magnan said. "The Ambassador has a word to say to +the staff before we go in." + +"I hope he isn't going to change the spontaneous speech he plans to make +when the Potentate impulsively suggests a trade agreement along the +lines they've been discussing for the last two months." + +"Your derisive attitude is uncalled for, Retief," Magnan said sharply. +"I think you realize it's delayed your promotion in the Corps." + +Retief took a last glance in the mirror. "I'm not sure I want a +promotion," he said. "It would mean more lapels." + +Ambassador Crodfoller pursed his lips, waiting until Retief and Magnan +took places in the ring of Terrestrial diplomats around him. + +"A word of caution only, gentlemen," he said. "Keep always foremost in +your minds the necessity for our identification with the Nenni Caste. +Even a hint of familiarity with lower echelons could mean the failure of +the mission. Let us remember that the Nenni represent authority here on +Petreac. Their traditions must be observed, whatever our personal +preferences. Let's go along now. The Potentate will be making his +entrance any moment." + +Magnan came to Retief's side as they moved toward the salon. + +"The Ambassador's remarks were addressed chiefly to you, Retief," he +said. "Your laxness in these matters is notorious. Naturally, I believe +firmly in democratic principles myself--" + +"Have you ever had a feeling, Mr. Magnan, that there's a lot going on +here that we don't know about?" + +Magnan nodded. "Quite so. Ambassador Crodfoller's point exactly. Matters +which are not of concern to the Nenni are of no concern to us." + +"Another feeling I get is that the Nenni aren't very bright. Now +suppose--" + +"I'm not given to suppositions, Retief. We're here to implement the +policies of the Chief of Mission. And I should dislike to be in the +shoes of a member of the staff whose conduct jeopardized the agreement +that will be concluded here tonight." + + * * * * * + +A bearer with a tray of drinks rounded a fluted column, shied as he +confronted the diplomats, fumbled the tray, grabbed and sent a glass +crashing to the floor. + +Magnan leaped back, slapping at the purple cloth of his pants leg. +Retief's hand shot out to steady the tray. The servant rolled terrified +eyes. + +"I'll take one of these, now that you're here," Retief said. He took a +glass from the tray, winking at the servant. + +"No harm done," he said. "Mr. Magnan's just warming up for the big +dance." + +A Nenni major-domo bustled up, rubbing his hands politely. + +"Some trouble here?" he said. "What happened, Honorables, what, +what...." + +"The blundering idiot," Magnan spluttered. "How dare--" + +"You're quite an actor, Mr. Magnan," Retief said. "If I didn't know +about your democratic principles, I'd think you were really mad." + +The servant ducked his head and scuttled away. + +"Has this fellow...." The major-domo eyed the retreating bearer. + +"I dropped my glass," Retief said. "Mr. Magnan's upset because he hates +to see liquor wasted." + +Retief turned to find himself face-to-face with Ambassador Crodfoller. + +"I witnessed that," The Ambassador hissed. "By the goodness of +Providence, the Potentate and his retinue haven't appeared yet. But I +can assure you the servants saw it. A more un-Nenni-like display I would +find it difficult to imagine!" + +Retief arranged his features in an expression of deep interest. + +"More un-Nenni-like, sir?" he said. "I'm not sure I--" + +"Bah!" The Ambassador glared at Retief, "Your reputation has preceded +you, sir. Your name is associated with a number of the most bizarre +incidents in Corps history. I'm warning you; I'll tolerate nothing." He +turned and stalked away. + +"Ambassador-baiting is a dangerous sport, Retief," Magnan said. + +Retief took a swallow of his drink. "Still," he said, "it's better than +no sport at all." + +"Your time would be better spent observing the Nenni mannerisms. +Frankly, Retief, you're not fitting into the group at all well." + +"I'll be candid with you, Mr. Magnan. The group gives me the willies." + +"Oh, the Nenni are a trifle frivolous, I'll concede," Magnan said. "But +it's with them that we must deal. And you'd be making a contribution to +the overall mission if you merely abandoned that rather arrogant manner +of yours." Magnan looked at Retief critically. "You can't help your +height, of course. But couldn't you curve your back just a bit--and +possibly assume a more placating expression? Just act a little more...." + +"Girlish?" + +"Exactly." Magnan nodded, then looked sharply at Retief. + +Retief drained his glass and put it on a passing tray. + +"I'm better at acting girlish when I'm well juiced," he said. "But I +can't face another sorghum-and-soda. I suppose it would be un-Nenni-like +to slip the bearer a credit and ask for a Scotch and water." + +"Decidedly." Magnan glanced toward a sound across the room. + +"Ah, here's the Potentate now!" He hurried off. + +Retief watched the bearers coming and going, bringing trays laden with +drinks, carrying off empties. There was a lull in the drinking now, as +the diplomats gathered around the periwigged Chief of State and his +courtiers. Bearers loitered near the service door, eyeing the notables. +Retief strolled over to the service door, pushed through it into a +narrow white-tiled hall filled with the odors of the kitchen. Silent +servants gaped as he passed, watching as he moved along to the kitchen +door and stepped inside. + + + + +II + + +A dozen or more low-caste Petreacans, gathered around a long table in +the center of the room looked up, startled. A heap of long-bladed bread +knives, French knives, carving knives and cleavers lay in the center of +the table. Other knives were thrust into belts or held in the hands of +the men. A fat man in the yellow sarong of a cook stood frozen in the +act of handing a knife to a tall one-eyed sweeper. + +Retief took one glance, then let his eyes wander to a far corner of the +room. Humming a careless little tune, he sauntered across to the open +liquor shelves, selected a garish green bottle and turned unhurriedly +back toward the door. The group of servants watched him, transfixed. + +As Retief reached the door, it swung inward. Magnan, lips pursed, stood +in the doorway. + +"I had a premonition," he said. + +"I'll bet it was a dandy," Retief said. "You must tell me all about +it--in the salon." + +"We'll have this out right here," Magnan snapped. "I've warned you!" +Magnan's voice trailed off as he took in the scene around the table. + +"After you," Retief said, nudging Magnan toward the door. + +"What's going on here?" Magnan barked. He stared at the men, started +around Retief. A hand stopped him. + +"Let's be going," Retief said, propelling Magnan toward the hall. + +"Those knives!" Magnan yelped. "Take your hands off me, Retief! What are +you men--?" + +Retief glanced back. The fat cook gestured suddenly, and the men faded +back. The cook stood, arm cocked, a knife across his palm. + +"Close the door and make no sound," he said softly. + +Magnan pressed back against Retief. "Let's ... r-run...." he faltered. + +Retief turned slowly, put his hands up. + +"I don't run very well with a knife in my back," he said. "Stand very +still, Magnan, and do just what he tells you." + +"Take them out through the back," the cook said. + +"What does he mean?" Magnan spluttered. "Here, you--" + +"Silence," the cook said, almost casually. Magnan gaped at him, closed +his mouth. + +Two of the men with knives came to Retief's side and gestured, grinning +broadly. + +"Let's go, peacocks," one said. + +Retief and Magnan silently crossed the kitchen, went out the back door, +stopped on command and stood waiting. The sky was brilliant with stars. +A gentle breeze stirred the tree-tops beyond the garden. Behind them the +servants talked in low voices. + +"You go too, Illy," the cook was saying. + +"Do it here," another said. + +"And carry their damn dead bodies down?" + +"Pitch 'em behind the hedge." + +"I said the river. Three of you is plenty for a couple of Nenni. We +don't know if we want to--" + +"They're foreigners, not Nenni. We don't know--" + +"So they're foreign Nenni. Makes no difference. I've seen them. I need +every man here; now get going." + +"What about the big guy? He looks tough." + +"Him? He waltzed into the room and didn't notice a thing. But watch the +other one." + +At a prod from a knife point, Retief moved off down the walk, two of the +escort behind him and Magnan, another going ahead to scout the way. + +Magnan moved closer to Retief. + +"Say," he said in a whisper. "That fellow in the lead; isn't he the one +who spilled the drink? The one you took the blame for?" + +"That's him, all right. He doesn't seem nervous any more, I notice." + +"You saved him from serious punishment," Magnan said. "He'll be +grateful; he'll let us go." + +"Better check with the fellows with the knives before you act on that." + +"Say something to him," Magnan hissed, "Remind him." + + * * * * * + +The lead man fell back in line with Retief and Magnan. + +"These two are scared of you," he said, grinning and jerking a thumb +toward the knife-handlers. "They haven't worked around the Nenni like +me; they don't know you." + +"Don't you recognize this gentleman?" Magnan said. + +"He did me a favor," the man said. "I remember." + +"What's it all about?" Retief asked. + +"The revolution. We're taking over now." + +"Who's 'we'?" + +"The People's Anti-Fascist Freedom League." + +"What are all the knives for?" + +"For the Nenni; and for all you foreigners." + +"What do you mean?" Magnan gasped. + +"We'll slit all the throats at one time. Saves a lot of running around." + + +"What time will that be?" + +"Just at dawn; and dawn comes early, this time of year. By full daylight +the PAFFL will be in charge." + +"You'll never succeed," Magnan said. "A few servants with knives! You'll +all be caught and killed." + +"By who, the Nenni?" the man laughed. "You Nenni are a caution." + +"But we're not Nenni--" + +"We've watched you; you're the same. You're part of the same +blood-sucking class." + +"There are better ways to, uh, adjust differences," Magnan said. "This +killing won't help you, I'll personally see to it that your grievances +are heard in the Corps Courts. I can assure you that the plight of the +downtrodden workers will be alleviated. Equal rights for all--" + +"These threats won't work," the man said. "You don't scare me." + +"Threats? I'm promising _relief_ to the exploited classes of Petreac!" + +"You must be nuts," the man said. "You trying to upset the system or +something?" + +"Isn't that the purpose of your revolution?" + +"Look, Nenni, we're tired of you Nenni getting all the graft. We want +our turn. What good would it do us to run Petreac if there's no loot?" + +"You mean you intend to oppress the people? But they're your own +group." + +"Group, schmoop. We're taking all the chances; we're doing the work. We +deserve the payoff. You think we're throwing up good jobs for the fun of +it?" + +"You're basing a revolt on these cynical premises?" + +"Wise up, Nenni. There's never been a revolution for any other reason." + +"Who's in charge of this?" Retief said. + +"Shoke, the head chef." + +"I mean the big boss. Who tells Shoke what all to do?" + +"Oh, that's Zorn. Look out, here's where we start down the slope. It's +slippery." + +"Look," Magnan said. "You." + +"My name's Illy." + +"Mr. Illy, this man showed you mercy when he could have had you beaten." + +"Keep moving. Yeah, I said I was grateful." + +"Yes," Magnan said, swallowing hard. "A noble emotion, gratitude. You +won't regret it." + +"I always try to pay back a good turn," Illy said. "Watch your step now +on this sea-wall." + +"You'll never regret it," Magnan said. + +"This is far enough," Illy motioned to one of the knife men. "Give me +your knife, Vug." + +The man passed his knife to Illy. There was an odor of sea-mud and kelp. +Small waves slapped against the stones of the sea-wall. The wind was +stronger here. + +"I know a neat stroke," Illy said. "Practically painless. Who's first?" + +"What do you mean?" Magnan quavered. + +"I _said_ I was grateful. I'll do it myself, give you a nice clean job. +You know these amateurs; botch it up and have a guy floppin' around, +yellin' and spatterin' everybody up." + +"I'm first," Retief said. He pushed past Magnan, stopped suddenly, drove +a straight punch at Illy's mouth. + + * * * * * + +The long blade flicked harmlessly over Retief's shoulder as Illy fell. +Retief whirled, leaped past Magnan, took the unarmed servant by the +throat and belt, lifted him and slammed him against the third man. Both +scrambled, yelped and fell from the sea-wall into the water. + +Retief turned back to Illy. He pulled off the man's belt and strapped +his hands together. + +Magnan found his voice. + +"You.... we.... they...." + +"I know," Retief said. + +"We've got to get back," Magnan said, "Warn them!" + +"We'd never get through the rebel cordon around the palace. And if we +did, trying to give an alarm would only set the assassinations off +early." + +"We can't just...." + +"We've got to go to the source; this fellow Zorn. Get him to call it +off." + +"We'd be killed! At least we're safe here." + +Illy groaned and opened his eyes. He sat up. + +"On your feet, Illy," Retief said. + +Illy looked around. "I'm sick," he said. + +"The damp air is bad for you. Let's be going." Retief pulled the man to +his feet. "Where does Zorn stay when he's in town?" he demanded. + +"What happened? Where's Vug and...." + +"They had an accident. Fell in the pond." + +Illy gazed down at the restless black water. + +"I guess I had you Nenni figured wrong." + +"Us Nenni have hidden qualities. Let's get moving before Vug and Slug +make it to shore and start it all over again." + +"No hurry," Illy said. "They can't swim." He spat into the water. "So +long, Vug. So long, Toscin. Take a pull, at the Hell Horn for me." He +started off along the sea wall toward the sound of the surf. + +"You want to see Zorn, I'll take you to see Zorn," he said. "I can't +swim either." + + + + +III + + +"I take it," Retief said, "that the casino is a front for his political +activities." + +"He makes plenty off it. This PAFFL is a new kick. I never heard about +it until maybe a couple months ago." + +Retief motioned toward a dark shed with an open door. + +"We'll stop here," he said, "long enough to strip the gadgets off these +uniforms." + +Illy, hands strapped behind his back, stood by and watched as Retief and +Magnan removed medals, ribbons, orders and insignia from the formal +diplomatic garments. + +"This may help some," Retief said, "if the word is out that two +diplomats are loose." + +"It's a breeze," Illy said. "We see cats in purple and orange tailcoats +all the time." + +"I hope you're right," Retief said. "But if we're called, you'll be the +first to go, Illy." + +"You're a funny kind of Nenni," Illy said, eyeing Retief, "Toscin and +Vug must be wonderin' what happened to 'em." + +"If you think I'm good at drowning people, you ought to see me with a +knife. Let's get going." + +"It's only a little way now," Illy said. "But you better untie me. +Somebody's liable to stick their nose in and get me killed." + +"I'll take the chance. How do we get to the casino?" + +"We follow this street. It twists around and goes under a couple +tunnels. When we get to the Drunkard's Stairs we go up and it's right in +front of us. A pink front with a sign like a big Luck Wheel." + +"Give me your belt, Magnan," Retief said. + +Magnan handed it over. + +"Lie down, Illy," Retief said. + +The servant looked at Retief. + +"Vug and Toscin will be glad to see me," he said. "But they'll never +believe me." He lay down. Retief strapped his feet together and stuffed +a handkerchief in his mouth. + +"Why are you doing that?" Magnan asked. "We need him." + +"We know the way. And we don't need anyone to announce our arrival. It's +only on three-dee that you can march a man through a gang of his pals +with a finger in his back." + +Magnan looked at the man. "Maybe you'd better, uh, cut his throat," he +said. + +Illy rolled his eyes. + +"That's a very un-Nenni-like suggestion, Mr. Magnan," Retief said. "If +we have any trouble finding the casino, I'll give it serious thought." + +There were few people in the narrow street. Shops were shuttered, +windows dark. + +"Maybe they heard about the coup," Magnan said. "They're lying low." + +"More likely, they're at the palace picking up their knives." + +They rounded a corner, stepped over a man curled in the gutter snoring +heavily and found themselves at the foot of a long flight of littered +stone steps. + +"The Drunkard's Stairs are plainly marked," Magnan sniffed. + +"I hear sounds up there," Retief said. "Sounds of merrymaking." + +"Maybe we'd better go back." + +"Merrymaking doesn't scare me," Retief said. "Come to think of it, I +don't know what the word means." He started up, Magnan behind him. + + * * * * * + +At the top of the long stair a dense throng milled in the alley-like +street. + +A giant illuminated roulette wheel revolved slowly above them. A +loudspeaker blared the chant of the croupiers from the tables inside. +Magnan and Retief moved through the crowd toward the wide-open doors. + +Magnan plucked at Retief's sleeve. "Are you sure we ought to push right +in like this? Maybe we ought to wait a bit, look around...." + +"When you're where you have no business being," Retief said, "always +stride along purposefully. If you loiter, people begin to get curious." + +Inside, a mob packed the wide, low-ceilinged room, clustered around +gambling devices in the form of towers, tables and basins. + +"What do we do now?" Magnan asked. + +"We gamble. How much money do you have in your pockets?" + +"Why ... a few credits." Magnan handed the money to Retief. "But what +about the man Zorn?" + +"A purple cutaway is conspicuous enough, without ignoring the tables," +Retief said. "We've got a hundred credits between us. We'll get to Zorn +in due course, I hope." + +"Your pleasure, gents," a bullet-headed man said, eyeing the colorful +evening clothes of the diplomats. "You'll be wantin' to try your luck at +the Zoop tower, I'd guess. A game for real sporting gents." + +"Why ... ah ..." Magnan said. + +"What's a zoop tower?" Retief asked. + +"Out-of-towners, hey?" The bullet-headed man shifted his dope-stick to +the other corner of his mouth. "Zoop is a great little game. Two teams +of players buy into the pot. Each player takes a lever; the object is to +make the ball drop from the top of the tower into your net. Okay?" + +"What's the ante?" + +"I got a hundred-credit pot workin' now, gents." + +Retief nodded. "We'll try it." + +The shill led the way to an eight-foot tower mounted on gimbals. Two +perspiring men in trade-class pullovers gripped two of the levers that +controlled the tilt of the tower. A white ball lay in a hollow in the +thick glass platform at the top. From the center, an intricate pattern +of grooves led out to the edge of the glass. Retief and Magnan took +chairs before the two free levers. + +"When the light goes on, gents, work the lever to jack the tower. You +got three gears. Takes a good arm to work top gear. That's this button +here. The little knob controls what way you're goin'. May the best team +win. I'll take the hundred credits now." + + * * * * * + +Retief handed over the money. A red light flashed on, and Retief tried +the lever. + +It moved easily, with a ratcheting sound. The tower trembled, slowly +tilted toward the two perspiring workmen pumping frantically at their +levers. Magnan started slowly, accelerated as he saw the direction the +tower was taking. + +"Faster, Retief," he said. "They're winning." + +"This is against the clock, gents," the bullet-headed man said. "If +nobody wins when the light goes off, the house takes all." + +"Crank it over to the left," Retief said. + +"I'm getting tired." + +"Shift to a lower gear." + +The tower leaned. The ball stirred, rolled into a concentric channel. +Retief shifted to middle gear, worked the lever. The tower creaked to a +stop, started back upright. + +"There isn't any lower gear," Magnan gasped. One of the two on the other +side of the tower shifted to middle gear; the other followed suit. They +worked harder now, heaving against the stiff levers. The tower quivered, +moved slowly toward their side. + +"I'm exhausted," Magnan gasped. He dropped the lever, lolled back in the +chair, gulping air. Retief shifted position, took Magnan's lever with +his left hand. + +"Shift it to middle gear," Retief said. Magnan gulped, punched the +button and slumped back, panting. + +"My arm," he said. "I've injured myself." + +The two men in pullovers conferred hurriedly as they cranked their +levers; then one punched a button and the other reached across, using +his left arm to help. + +"They've shifted to high," Magnan said. "Give up, it's hopeless." + +"Shift me to high," Retief said. "Both buttons!" + +Magnan complied. Retief's shoulders bulged. He brought one lever down, +then the other, alternately, slowly at first, then faster. The tower +jerked, tilted toward him, farther.... The ball rolled in the channel, +found an outlet-- + +Abruptly, both Retief's levers froze. + +The tower trembled, wavered and moved back. Retief heaved. One lever +folded at the base, bent down and snapped off short. Retief braced his +feet, took the other lever with both hands and pulled. + +There was a rasp of metal friction, and a loud twang. The lever came +free, a length of broken cable flopping into view. The tower fell over +as the two on the other side scrambled aside. + +"Hey!" Bullet-head yelled. "You wrecked my equipment!" + +Retief got up and faced him. + +"Does Zorn know you've got your tower rigged for suckers?" + +"You tryin' to call me a cheat or something?" + +The crowd had fallen back, ringing the two men. Bullet-head glanced +around. With a lightning motion, he plucked a knife from somewhere. + +"That'll be five hundred credits for the equipment," he said. "Nobody +calls Kippy a cheat." + + * * * * * + +Retief picked up the broken lever. + +"Don't make me hit you with this, you cheap chiseler." + +Kippy looked at the bar. + +"Comin' in here," he said indignantly, looking to the crowd for support. +"Bustin' up my rig, callin' names...." + +"I want a hundred credits," Retief said. "Now." + +"Highway robbery!" Kippy yelled. + +"Better pay up," somebody called. + +"Hit him, mister," someone else said. + +A broad-shouldered man with graying hair pushed through the crowd and +looked around. "You heard 'em, Kippy. Give," he said. + +The shill growled but tucked his knife away. Reluctantly he peeled a +bill from a fat roll and handed it over. + +The newcomer looked from Retief to Magnan. + +"Pick another game, strangers," he said. "Kippy made a little mistake." + +"This is small-time stuff," Retief said. "I'm interested in something +big." + +The broad-shouldered man lit a perfumed dope stick. "What would you call +big?" he said softly. + +"What's the biggest you've got?" + +The man narrowed his eyes, smiling. "Maybe you'd like to try Slam." + +"Tell me about it." + +"Over here." The crowd opened up, made a path. Retief and Magnan +followed across the room to a brightly-lit glass-walled box. + +There was an arm-sized opening at waist height. Inside was a hand grip. +A two-foot plastic globe a quarter full of chips hung in the center. +Apparatus was mounted at the top of the box. + +"Slam pays good odds," the man said. "You can go as high as you like. +Chips cost you a hundred credits. You start it up by dropping a chip in +here." He indicated a slot. + +"You take the hand grip. When you squeeze, it unlocks. The globe starts +to turn. You can see, it's full of chips. There's a hole at the top. As +long as you hold the grip, the bowl turns. The harder you squeeze, the +faster it turns. Eventually it'll turn over to where the hole is down, +and chips fall out. + +"On the other hand, there's contact plates spotted around the bowl. When +one of 'em lines up with a live contact, you get quite a little +jolt--guaranteed nonlethal. All you've got to do is hold on long enough, +and you'll get the payoff." + +"How often does this random pattern put the hole down?" + +"Anywhere from three minutes to fifteen, with the average run of +players. Oh, by the way, one more thing. That lead block up there--" The +man motioned with his head toward a one-foot cube suspended by a thick +cable. "It's rigged to drop every now and again. Averages five minutes. +A warning light flashes first. You can take a chance; sometimes the +light's a bluff. You can set the clock back on it by dropping another +chip--or you can let go the grip." + +Retief looked at the massive block of metal. + +"That would mess up a man's dealing hand, wouldn't it?" + +"The last two jokers who were too cheap to feed the machine had to have +'em off. Their arms, I mean. That lead's heavy stuff." + +"I don't suppose your machine has a habit of getting stuck, like +Kippy's?" + +The broad-shouldered man frowned. + +"You're a stranger," he said, "You don't know any better." + +"It's a fair game, Mister," someone called. + +"Where do I buy the chips?" + +The man smiled. "I'll fix you up. How many?" + +"One." + +"A big spender, eh?" The man snickered, but handed over a large plastic +chip. + + + + +IV + + +Retief stepped to the machine, dropped the coin. + +"If you want to change your mind," the man said, "you can back out now. +All it'll cost you is the chip you dropped." + +Retief reached through the hole, took the grip. It was leather padded +hand-filling. He squeezed it. There was a click and bright lights sprang +up. The crowd ah!-ed. The globe began to twirl lazily. The four-inch +hole at its top was plainly visible. + +"If ever the hole gets in position it will empty very quickly," Magnan +said, hopefully. + +Suddenly, a brilliant white light flooded the glass cage. A sound went +up from the spectators. + +"Quick, drop a chip," someone called. + +"You've only got ten seconds...." + +"Let go!" Magnan yelped. + +Retief sat silent, holding the grip, frowning up at the weight. The +globe twirled faster now. Then the bright white light winked off. + +"A bluff!" Magnan gasped. + +"That's risky, stranger," the gray-templed man said. + +The globe was turning rapidly now, oscillating from side to side. The +hole seemed to travel in a wavering loop, dipping lower, swinging up +high, then down again. + +"It has to move to the bottom soon," Magnan said. "Slow it down." + +"The slower it goes, the longer it takes to get to the bottom," someone +said. + +There was a crackle and Retief stiffened. Magnan heard a sharp intake of +breath. The globe slowed, and Retief shook his head, blinking. + +The broad-shouldered man glanced at a meter. + +"You took pretty near a full jolt, that time," he said. + +The hole in the globe was tracing an oblique course now, swinging to the +center, then below. + +"A little longer," Magnan said. + +"That's the best speed I ever seen on the Slam ball," someone said. "How +much longer can he hold it?" + +Magnan looked at Retief's knuckles. They showed white against the grip. +The globe tilted farther, swung around, then down; two chips fell out, +clattered down a chute and into a box. + +"We're ahead," Magnan said. "Let's quit." + +Retief shook his head. The globe rotated, dipped again; three chips +fell. + +"She's ready," someone called. + +"It's bound to hit soon," another voice added excitedly. "Come on, +Mister!" + +"Slow down," Magnan said. "So it won't move past too quickly." + +"Speed it up, before that lead block gets you," someone called. + +The hole swung high, over the top, then down the side. Chips rained out +of the hole, six, eight.... + +"Next pass," a voice called. + +The white light flooded the cage. The globe whirled; the hole slid over +the top, down, down.... A chip fell, two more.... + +Retief half rose, clamped his jaw and crushed the grip. Sparks flew. The +globe slowed, chips spewing. It stopped, swung back, weighted by the +mass of chips at the bottom, and stopped again with the hole centered. + +[Illustration] + +Chips cascaded down the chute, filled the box before Retief, spilled on +the floor. The crowd yelled. + +Retief released the grip and withdrew his arm at the same instant that +the lead block slammed down. + +"Good lord," Magnan said. "I felt that through the floor." + +Retief turned to the broad-shouldered man. + +"This game's all right for beginners," he said. "But I'd like to talk a +really big gamble. Why don't we go to your office, Mr. Zorn?" + + * * * * * + +"Your proposition interests me," Zorn said, grinding out the stump of +his dope stick in a brass ashtray. "But there's some angles to this I +haven't mentioned yet." + +"You're a gambler, Zorn, not a suicide," Retief said. "Take what I've +offered. The other idea was fancier, I agree, but it won't work." + +"How do I know you birds aren't lying?" Zorn snarled. He stood up, +strode up and down the room. "You walk in here and tell me I'll have a +task force on my neck, that the Corps won't recognize my regime. Maybe +you're right. But I've got other contacts. They say different." He +whirled, stared at Retief. + +"I have pretty good assurance that once I put it over, the Corps will +have to recognize me as the legal government of Petreac. They won't +meddle in internal affairs." + +"Nonsense," Magnan spoke up. "The Corps will never deal with a pack of +criminals calling themselves--" + +"Watch your language, you!" Zorn rasped. + +"I'll admit Mr. Magnan's point is a little weak," Retief said. "But +you're overlooking something. You plan to murder a dozen or so officers +of the Corps Diplomatique Terrestrienne along with the local wheels. The +corps won't overlook that. It can't." + +"Their tough luck they're in the middle," Zorn muttered. + +"Our offer is extremely generous, Mr. Zorn," Magnan said. "The post +you'll get will pay you very well indeed. As against the certain failure +of your planned coup, the choice should be simple." + +Zorn eyed Magnan. "Offering me a job--it sounds phony as hell. I thought +you birds were goody-goody diplomats." + +"It's time you knew," Retief said. "There's no phonier business in the +Galaxy than diplomacy." + +"You'd better take it, Mr. Zorn," Magnan said. + +"Don't push me, Junior!" Zorn said. "You two walk into my headquarters +empty-handed and big-mouthed. I don't know what I'm talking to you for. +The answer is no. N-I-X, no!" + +"Who are you afraid of?" Retief said softly. + +Zorn glared at him. + +"Where do you get that 'afraid' routine? I'm top man here!" + +"Don't kid around, Zorn. Somebody's got you under their thumb. I can see +you squirming from here." + + * * * * * + +"What if I let your boys alone?" Zorn said suddenly. "The Corps won't +have anything to say then, huh?" + +"The Corps has plans for Petreac, Zorn. You aren't part of them. A +revolution right now isn't part of them. Having the Potentate and the +whole Nenni caste slaughtered isn't part of them. Do I make myself +clear?" + +"Listen," Zorn said urgently, pulling a chair around. "I'll tell you +guys a few things. You ever heard of a world they call Rotune?" + +"Certainly," Magnan said. "It's a near neighbor of yours. Another +backward--that is, emergent--" + +"Okay," Zorn said. "You guys think I'm a piker, do you? Well, let me +wise you up. The Federal Junta on Rotune is backing my play. I'll be +recognized by Rotune, and the Rotune fleet will stand by in case I need +any help. I'll present the CDT with what you call a _fait accompli_." + +"What does Rotune get out of this? I thought they were your traditional +enemies." + +"Don't get me wrong. I've got no use for Rotune; but our interests +happen to coincide right now." + +"Do they?" Retief smiled grimly. "You can spot a sucker as soon as he +comes through that door out there--but you go for a deal like this!" + +"What do you mean?" Zorn looked angrily at Retief. "It's fool-proof." + +"After you get in power, you'll be fast friends with Rotune, is that +it?" + +"Friends, hell! Just give me time to get set, and I'll square a few +things with that--" + +"Exactly. And what do you suppose they have in mind for you?" + +"What are you getting at?" + +"Why is Rotune interested in your take-over?" + +Zorn studied Retief's face. "I'll tell you why," he said. "It's you +birds. You and your trade agreement. You're here to tie Petreac into +some kind of trade combine. That cuts Rotune out. Well, we're doing all +right out here. We don't need any commitments to a lot of fancy-pants on +the other side of the Galaxy." + +"That's what Rotune has sold you, eh?" Retief said, smiling. + +"Sold, nothing!" + + * * * * * + +Zorn ground out his dope-stick, lit another. He snorted angrily. + +"Okay; what's your idea?" he asked after a moment. + +"You know what Petreac is getting in the way of imports as a result of +the agreement?" + +"Sure. A lot of junk." + +"To be specific," Retief said, "there'll be 50,000 Tatone B-3 dry +washers; 100,000 Glo-float motile lamps; 100,000 Earthworm Minor garden +cultivators; 25,000 Veco space heaters; and 75,000 replacement elements +for Ford Monomeg drives." + +"Like I said. A lot of junk." + +Retief leaned back, looking sardonically at Zorn, "Here's the gimmick, +Zorn," he said. "The Corps is getting a little tired of Petreac and +Rotune carrying on their two-penny war out here. Your privateers have a +nasty habit of picking on innocent bystanders. After studying both +sides, the Corps has decided Petreac would be a little easier to do +business with. So this trade agreement was worked out. The Corps can't +openly sponsor an arms shipment to a belligerent. But personal +appliances are another story." + +"So what do we do--plow 'em under with back-yard cultivators?" Zorn +looked at Retief, puzzled. "What's the point?" + +"You take the sealed monitor unit from the washer, the repeller field +generator from the lamp, the converter control from the cultivator, et +cetera, et cetera. You fit these together according to some very simple +instructions. Presto! You have one hundred thousand Standard-class Y +hand blasters. Just the thing to turn the tide in a stalemated war +fought with obsolete arms." + +"Good lord!" Magnan said. "Retief, are you--" + +"I have to tell him," Retief said. "He has to know what he's putting his +neck into." + +"Weapons, hey?" Zorn said. "And Rotune knows about it?" + +"Sure they know about it. It's not too hard to figure out. And there's +more. They want the CDT delegation included in the massacre for a +reason. It will put Petreac out of the picture; the trade agreement will +go to Rotune; and you and your new regime will find yourselves looking +down the muzzles of your own blasters." + +Zorn threw his dope-stick to the floor with a snarl. + +"I should have smelled something when that Rotune smoothie made his +pitch." Zorn looked at his watch. + +"I've got two hundred armed men in the palace. We've got about forty +minutes to get over there before the rocket goes up." + + + + +V + + +"You'd better stay here on this terrace out of the way until I've spread +the word," Zorn said. "Just in case." + +"Let me caution you against any ... ah ... slip-ups, Mr. Zorn," Magnan +said. "The Nenni are not to be molested--" + +Zorn looked at Retief. + +"Your friend talks too much," he said. "I'll keep my end of it. He'd +better keep his." + +"Nothing's happened yet, you're sure?" Magnan said. + +"I'm sure," Zorn said. "Ten minutes to go. Plenty of time." + +"I'll just step into the salon to assure myself that all is well," +Magnan said. + +"Suit yourself," Zorn said. "Just stay clear of the kitchen, or you'll +get your throat cut." He sniffed at his dope-stick. "What's keeping +Shoke?" he muttered. + +Magnan stepped to a tall glass door, eased it open and poked his head +through the heavy draperies. As he moved to draw back, a voice was +faintly audible. Magnan paused, head still through the drapes. + +"What's going on there?" Zorn rasped. He and Retief stepped up behind +Magnan. + +"--breath of air, ha-ha," Magnan was saying. + +"Well, come along, Magnan!" Ambassador Crodfoller's voice snapped. + +Magnan shifted from one foot to the other then pushed through the +drapes. + +"Where've you been, Mr. Magnan?" The Ambassador's voice was sharp. + +"Oh ... ah ... a slight accident, Mr. Ambassador." + +"What's happened to your shoes? Where are your insignia and +decorations?" + +"I--ah--spilled a drink on them. Sir. Ah--listen...." + +The sound of an orchestra came up suddenly, blaring a fanfare. + +Zorn shifted restlessly, ear against the glass. + +"What's your friend pulling?" he rasped. "I don't like this." + +"Keep cool, Zorn," Retief said. "Mr. Magnan is doing a little emergency +salvage on his career." + +The music died away with a clatter. + +"--My God," Ambassador Crodfoller's voice was faint. "Magnan, you'll be +knighted for this. Thank God you reached me. Thank God it's not too +late. I'll find some excuse. I'll get a gram off at once." + +"But you--" + +"It's all right, Magnan. You were in time. Another ten minutes and the +agreement would have been signed and transmitted. The wheels would have +been put in motion. My career ruined...." + +Retief felt a prod at his back. He turned. + +"Doublecrossed," Zorn said softly. "So much for the word of a diplomat." + + * * * * * + +Retief looked at the short-barreled needler in Zorn's hand. + +"I see you hedge your bets, Zorn," he said. + +"We'll wait here," Zorn said, "until the excitement's over inside. I +wouldn't want to attract any attention right now." + +"Your politics are still lousy, Zorn. The picture hasn't changed. Your +coup hasn't got a chance." + +"Skip it. I'll take up one problem at a time." + +"Magnan's mouth has a habit of falling open at the wrong time--" + +"That's my good luck that I heard it. So there'll be no agreement, no +guns, no fat job for Tammany Zorn, hey? Well, I can still play it the +other way, What have I got to lose?" + +With a movement too quick to follow, Retief's hand chopped down across +Zorn's wrist. The needler clattered as Zorn reeled, and then Retief's +hand clamped Zorn's arm and whirled him around. + +"In answer to your last question," Retief said, "your neck." + +"You haven't got a chance, doublecrosser," Zorn gasped. + +"Shoke will be here in a minute," Retief said. "Tell him it's all off." + +"Twist harder, Mister," Zorn said. "Break it off at the shoulder. I'm +telling him nothing!" + +"The kidding's over, Zorn," Retief said. "Call it off or I'll kill you." + +"I believe you," Zorn said. "But you won't have long to remember it." + +"All the killing will be for nothing," Retief said. "You'll be dead and +the Rotunes will step into the power vacuum." + +"So what? When I die, the world ends." + +"Suppose I make you another offer, Zorn?" + +"Why would it be any better than the last one, chiseler?" + +Retief released Zorn's arm, pushed him away, stooped and picked up the +needler. + +"I could kill you, Zorn. You know that." + +"Go ahead!" + +Retief reversed the needler, held it out. + +"I'm a gambler too, Zorn. I'm gambling you'll listen to what I have to +say." + +Zorn snatched the gun, stepped back. He looked at Retief. + +"That wasn't the smartest bet you ever made, Mister; but go ahead. +You've got maybe ten seconds." + +"Nobody doublecrossed you, Zorn. Magnan put his foot in it. Too bad. Is +that a reason to kill yourself and a lot of other people who've bet +their lives on you?" + +"They gambled and lost. Tough." + +"Maybe you haven't lost yet--if you don't quit." + +"Get to the point!" + +Retief spoke earnestly for a minute and a half. Zorn stood, gun aimed, +listening. Then both men turned as footsteps approached along the +terrace. A fat man in a yellow sarong padded up to Zorn. + +Zorn tucked the needler in his waistband. + +"Hold everything, Shoke," he said. "Tell the boys to put the knives +away. Spread the word fast. It's all off." + + * * * * * + +"I want to commend you, Retief," Ambassador Crodfoller said expansively. +"You mixed very well at last night's affair. Actually, I was hardly +aware of your presence." + +"I've been studying Mr. Magnan's work," Retief said. + +"A good man, Magnan. In a crowd, he's virtually invisible." + +"He knows when to disappear all right." + +"This has been in many ways a model operation, Retief." The Ambassador +patted his paunch contentedly. "By observing local social customs and +blending harmoniously with the court, I've succeeded in establishing a +fine, friendly, working relationship with the Potentate." + +"I understand the agreement has been postponed." + +The Ambassador chuckled. "The Potentate's a crafty one. Through ... ah +... a special study I have been conducting, I learned last night that he +had hoped to, shall I say, 'put one over' on the Corps." + +"Great heavens," Retief said. + +"Naturally, this placed me in a difficult position. It was my task to +quash this gambit, without giving any indication that I was aware of its +existence." + +"A hairy position indeed," Retief said. + +"Quite casually, I informed the Potentate that certain items which had +been included in the terms of the agreement had been deleted and others +substituted. I admired him at that moment, Retief. He took it +coolly--appearing completely indifferent--perfectly dissembling his very +serious disappointment." + +"I noticed him dancing with three girls wearing a bunch of grapes +apiece. He's very agile for a man of his bulk." + +"You mustn't discount the Potentate! Remember, beneath that mask of +frivolity, he had absorbed a bitter blow." + +"He had me fooled," Retief said. + +"Don't feel badly; I confess at first I failed to sense his shrewdness." +The Ambassador nodded and moved off along the corridor. + +Retief turned and went into an office. Magnan looked up from his desk. + +"Ah," he said. "Retief. I've been meaning to ask you. About the ... ah +... blasters. Are you--?" + +Retief leaned on Magnan's desk, looked at him. + +"I thought that was to be our little secret." + +"Well, naturally I--" Magnan closed his mouth, swallowed. "How is it, +Retief," he said sharply, "that you were aware of this blaster business, +when the Ambassador himself wasn't?" + +"Easy," Retief said. "I made it up." + +"You what!" Magnan looked wild. "But the agreement--it's been revised! +Ambassador Crodfoller has gone on record...." + +"Too bad. Glad _I_ didn't tell him about it." + + * * * * * + +Magnan leaned back and closed his eyes. + +"It was big of you to take all the ... blame," Retief said, "when the +Ambassador was talking about knighting people." + +Magnan opened his eyes. + +"What about that gambler, Zorn? Won't he be upset?" + +"It's all right," Retief said, "I made another arrangement. The business +about making blasters out of common components wasn't completely +imaginary. You can actually do it, using parts from an old-fashioned +disposal unit." + +"What good will that do him?" Magnan whispered, looking nervous. "We're +not shipping in any old-fashioned disposal units." + +"We don't need to," Retief said. "They're already installed in the +palace kitchen--and in a few thousand other places, Zorn tells me." + +"If this ever leaks...." Magnan put a hand to his forehead. + +"I have his word on it that the Nenni slaughter is out. This place is +ripe for a change. Maybe Zorn is what it needs." + +"But how can we _know?_" Magnan yelped. "How can we be sure?" + +"We can't," Retief said. "But it's not up to the Corps to meddle in +Petreacs' internal affairs." He leaned over, picked up Magnan's desk +lighter and lit a cigar. He blew a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. +"Right?" + +Magnan looked at him, nodded weakly. "Right." + +"I'd better be getting along to my desk," Retief said. "Now that the +Ambassador feels that I'm settling down at last--" + +"Retief," Magnan said, "tonight, I implore you. Stay out of the +kitchen--no matter what." + +Retief raised his eyebrows. + +"I know," Magnan said. "If you hadn't interfered, we'd all have had our +throats cut. But at least," he added, "we'd have died in accordance with +regulations!" + + +END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Gambler's World, by John Keith Laumer + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GAMBLER'S WORLD *** + +***** This file should be named 21627.txt or 21627.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/6/2/21627/ + +Produced by Robert Cicconetti, V. L. 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