Retief-Ambassador to Space (12 page)

"Terran, have you not heard of
the curfew?" one demanded in shrill but accurate Terran.

"Can't say that I have,"
Retief replied. "There wasn't any, an hour ago."

"There is now!" the other
snapped. "You Terries are not popular here. If you insist on inflaming the
populace by walking abroad, we cannot be responsible for your safety—" he
broke off as he saw the Krultch pistol protruding from Retiefs pocket.

"Where did you get that?" he
demanded in Gaspierran, then switched to pidgin Terran: "Where you-fella
catchum bang-bang?"

"A couple of lads were playing
with it in the street," Retief said in the local dialect. "I took it
away from them before someone got hurt." He started past them.

"Hold on there," the
policeman snapped. "We're not finished with you, fellow. We'll tell you
when you can go. Now ..." He folded his upper elbows. "You're to go
to your quarters at once. In view of the tense interplanetary situation, all
you Terries are to remain inside until further notice, I have my men posted on
all approaches to, ah, provide protection—"

"You're putting a diplomatic
mission under arrest?" Retief inquired mildly.

"I wouldn't call it that. Let's
say that it wouldn't be safe for foreigners to venture abroad—"

"Threats too?"

"This measure is necessary in
order to prevent unfortunate incidents—!"

"How about the Krultch? They're
foreigners; are you locking them in their bedrooms?"

"The Krultch are old and valued
friends of the Gaspierre," the police captain said stiffly.
"We—"

"I see now; ever since they set
up an armed patrol just outside Gaspierran atmosphere, you've developed a vast
affection for them. Of course, their purchasing missions help too."

The captain smirked. "We
Gaspierre are nothing if not practical." He held out his clawlike
two-fingered hand. "You will now give me the weapon."

Retief handed it over silently.

"Come, I will escort you to your
room," the cop said.

Retief nodded complacently, followed
the Gaspierre through the entry cubicle and into the lift.

"I'm glad you've decided to be
reasonable," the cop said. "After all, if you Terries
should
convince the cabinet, it will be much nicer all around if there have been no
incidents."

"How true," Retief murmured.

He left the car at the 20th floor.

"Don't forget, now," the cop
said, watching Retief key his door. "Just slay inside and all will yet be
well." He signaled to a policeman slanding a few yards along the corridor.

"Keep an eye on the door, Klosta
..."

Inside, Retief picked up the phone,
dialed the Ambassador's room number. There was a dry buzz, no answer. He looked
around the room. There was a tall, narrow window set in the wall opposite the
door, with a hinged section that swung outward. Retief opened it, leaned out,
looked down at the dizzying stretch of blank facade that dropped sheer to the
upper walkway seventy yards below. Above, the wall extended up twenty feet to
an overhanging cornice. He went to the closel, yanked a blankel from the shelf,
ripped it inlo four wide strips, knotted them together, tied one end to a chair
which he braced below the window.

Retief swung his legs outside the
window, grasped the blanket-rope, and slid down.

The window at the next level was
closed and curlained. Retief braced himself on the sill, delivered a sharp kick
to the panel; it shattered with an explosive sound. He dropped lower, reached
through, released the catch, pulled the window wide, knocked the curtain aside,
scrambled through into a darkened room.

"Who's there?" a sharp voice
barked. A tall, lean man in a ruffled shirt with an unknotted string tie
hanging down the front gaped at Retief from the inner room.

"Retief! How did you get here? I
understood that none of the staff were to be permitted—that is, I agreed that
protective custody—er, it seems ..."

"The whole staff is bottled up
here in the building, Mr. Ambassador. I'd guess they mean to keep us here until
after the Cabinet meeting. It appears the Krultch have the fix in."

"Nonsense! I have a firm
commitment from the Minister that no final commitment will be made until we've
been heard—"

"Meanwhile, we're under house
arrest—just to be sure we don't have an opportunity to bring any of the cabinet
around to our side."

"Are you suggesting that I've
permitted illegal measures to be taken without a protest?" Ambassador
Sheepshorn fixed Retief with a piercing gaze which wilted, slid aside.
"The place was alive with armed gendarmes," he sighed. "What
could I do?"

"A few shrill cries of outrage
might have helped," Retief pointed out. "It's still not too late. A fast
visit to the Foreign Office—"

"Are you out of your mind? Have
you observed the temper of the populace? We'd be torn to shreds!"

Retief nodded. "Quite possibly;
but what do you think our chances are tomorrow, after the Gaspierre conclude a
treaty with the Krultch?"

Sheepshorn made two tries, then
swallowed hard. "Surely, Retief, you don't—"

"I'm afraid I do," Retief
said. "The Krultch need a vivid symbol of their importance—and they'd also
like to involve the Gaspierre in their skulduggery, just to ensure their
loyalty. Packing a clutch of Terry diplomats off to the ice-mines would do both
jobs."

"A great pity," the
Ambassador sighed. "And only nine months to go till my retirement."

"I'll have to be going now,"
Retief said. "There may be a posse of annoyed police along at any moment,
and I'd hate to make it too easy for them."

"Police? You mean they're not
even waiting until after the Cabinet's decision?"

"Oh, this is just a personal
matter; I damaged some Krultch naval property and gave a Gaspierre cop a pain
in the neck."

"I've warned you about your
personality, Retief," Sheepshorn admonished. "I suggest you give
yourself up, and ask for clemency; with luck, you'll get to go along to the
mines with the rest of us. I'll personally put in a good word—"

"That would interfere with my
plans, I'm afraid," Retief said. He went to the door. "I'll try to be
back before the Gaspierre do anything irrevocable. Meanwhile, hold the fort
here. If they come for you, quote regulations at them; I'm sure they'll find
that discouraging."

"Plans? Retief, I positively
forbid you to—"

Retief stepped through the door and
closed it behind him, cutting off the flow of ambassadorial wisdom. A flat
policeman posted a few feet along the corridor came to the alert, opened his
mouth to speak-

"All right, you can go home
now," Retief said in brisk Gaspierran. "The chief changed his mind;
he decided violating a Terran Embassy's quarters was just asking for trouble.
After all, the Krultch haven't won yet."

The cop stared at him, then nodded.
"I wondered if this wasn't kind of getting the rickshaw before the coolie
..." he hesitated. "But what do
you
know about it?"

"I just had a nice chat with the
captain, one floor up."

"Well, if he let you come down
here, I guess it's all right."

"If you hurry, you can make it
back to the barracks before the evening rush begins." Retief waved airily
and strolled away along the corridor.

Back at ground level, Retief went
along a narrow service passage leading to the rear of the building, stepped out
into a deserted-looking courtyard. There was another door across the way. He
went to it, followed another hall to a street exit. There were no cops in
sight. He took the sparsely peopled lower walkway, set off at a brisk walk.

Ten minutes later, Retief surveyed the
approaches to the Hostelry Ritz-Krudlu from the shelter of an interlevel
connecting stair. A surging crowd of Gaspierre blocked the walkway, with a
scattering of yellow police uniforms patrolling the edge of the mob. Placards
lettered TERRY GO HOME and KEEP GASPIERRE BROWN bobbed above the sea of
flattened heads. Off to one side, a heavily braided Krultch officer stood with
a pair of age-tarnished locals, looking on approvingly.

Retief retraced his steps to the
debris-littered ground level twenty feet below the walkway, found an
eighteen-inch-wide air space leading back between the buildings. He inched
along it, came to a door, found it locked. Four doors later, a latch yielded to
his touch. He stepped inside, made out the dim outlines of an empty storage
room. The door across the room was locked. Retief stepped back, slammed a kick
against it at latch level; it bounced wide.

After a moment's wait for the sound of
an alarm which failed to materialize, Retief moved off along the passage, found
a rubbish-heaped stair. He clambered over the debris, started up.

At the twelfth level, he emerged into
the corridor. There was no one in sight. He went quickly along to the door
numbered 1203, tapped lightly. There was a faint sound from inside; then a bass
voice rumbled, "Who's there?"

"Retief. Open up before the house
dick spots me."

Bolts clattered and the door swung
wide; Julius Mulvihill's mustached face appeared; he seized Retiefs hand and
pumped it, grinning.

"Gripes, Mr. Retief, we were
worried about you. Right after you left, old Hrooze called up here and said
there was a riot starting up—"

"Nothing serious; just a few
enthusiasts out front putting on a show for the Krultch."

"What's happened?" Wee
Willie chirped, coming in from the next room with lather on his chin.
"They throwing us out already?"

"No, you'll be safe enough right
here. But I need your help."

The big man nodded, flexed his hands.

Suzette la Flamme thrust a drink into
Retiefs hand. "Sit down and tell us about it."

"Glad you come to us,
Retief," Wee Willie piped.

Retief took the offered chair, sampled
the drink, then outlined the situation.

"What I have in mind could be
dangerous," he finished.

"What ain't?" Willie
demanded.

"It calls for a delicate touch
and some fancy footwork," Retief added.

The professor cleared his throat.
"I am not without a certain dexterity—" he started.

"Let him finish," the
redhead said.

"And I'm not even sure it's
possible," Retief stated.

The big man looked at the others.
"There's a lot of things that look impossible—but the Marvelous Merivales
do 'em anyway. That's what made our act a wow on a hundred and twelve
planets."

The girl tossed her red hair.
"The way it looks, Mr. Retief, if somebody doesn't do something, by this
time tomorrow this is going to be mighty unhealthy territory for Terries."

"The ones the mob don't get will
be chained to an oar in a Krultch battlewagon," Willie piped.

"With the Mission pinned down in
their quarters, the initiative appears to rest with us," Professor Fate
intoned. The others nodded.

"If you're all agreed then,"
Retief said, "here's what I have in mind ..."

The corridor was empty when Retief
emerged, followed by the four Terrans.

"How are we going to get out past
that crowd out front?" Mulvihill inquired. "I've got a feeling
they're ready for something stronger than slogans."

"We'll try the back way—"

There was a sudden hubbub from the far
end of the corridor; half a dozen Gaspierre burst into view, puffing hard from
a fast climb. They hissed, pointed, started for the Terrans at a short-legged
trot. At the same moment, a door flew wide at the opposite end of the hallway;
more locals popped into view, closed in.

"Looks like a necktie
party," Wee Willie barked. "Let's go get 'em Julie!" He put his
head down and charged. The oncoming natives slowed, skipped aside. One, a
trifle slow, bounced against the wall as the midget rammed him at knee level.
The others whirled, grabbing at Wee Willie as he skidded to a hall. Mulvihill
roared, look three giant sleps, caught two Gaspierre by the backs of their
leathery necks, bounced them off the wall.

The second group of locals, emitting
wheezes of excitement, dashed up, eager for the fray. Retief met one with a
straight right, knocked two more aside with a sweep of his arm, sprinted for
the door through which the second party of locals had appeared. He looked back
to see Mulvihill toss another Gaspierre aside, pluck Wee Willie from the melee.

"Down here, Julie!"

The girl called, "Come on,
Professor!"

The tall, lean Terran, backed against
the wall by three hissing locals, stretched out a yard-long arm, flapped his
hand., A large white pigeon appeared, fluttered, squawking, into the faces of
the attackers; they fell back, slapping and snorting. Professor Fate plunged
through them, grabbed the bird by the legs as he passed, dashed from the door
where Retief and the girl waited.