The Dogtown Tourist Agency (24 page)

“So why does Dr. Leuvil now keep Sabin Cru?”

The boatman shrugged. “Leuvil has also locked away Dr. Dacre’s machines. Sabin alone profits from the discord. If he were here I would drown him at once. The sea has claimed him, and will never let him go.”

“The question then remains: where is Dr. Dacre?”

“He comes and goes. He might return tomorrow.”

“Possibly so. What else do you know?”

“Nothing, Merner, that you would wish to pay for.”

From the Masmodo dock Hetzel went directly to the post office where he communicated with the Azimuth Effectuation Group at Narghuys. After an exchange of polite pleasantries with the director, Hetzel requested the services of five top-quality operatives. These arrived at Masmodo on the following day and Hetzel explained his requirements: “Notice the house and dispensary on the hill yonder. In one or the other resides a most important witness in a case, who must not be allowed to slip through our fingers. Both house and dispensary must be watched constantly: two men by day, three men by night. Work out the schedule to suit yourselves. Plan for every contingency. If you need more help, call Azimuth: I prefer too many men to too few. Be discreet, but do not attempt to be invisible. The woman may come and go, but be sure it is the woman; do not be deceived by padding and a wig, or any other subterfuge. Is everything clear?”

Questions were asked; Hetzel clarified all areas of ambiguity, then departed Masmodo.

Conwit Clent received a telegram at Dandyl Villa. It read:

Arriving at the Cosmolux Hotel, Clent was received by Hetzel in the foyer of Suite 100. “You are the last to arrive, but still in good time. Our business now proceeds.”

Clent stopped short. “What is going on? Please explain to me.”

“I would do so with pleasure, Xtl Clent, except that the others are becoming restless, and we still have much to do. Come this way; I will introduce you.”

Hetzel ushered Clent into the sitting room. Those already present fell silent and scrutinized Clent with an interest more direct and intent than might have suited ordinary circumstances.

“At last,” said Hetzel, “our group is complete, except for a person whom we will shortly join. Gentlemen, this is Xtl Conwit Clent, of Thesse. Around the room are Lazar, Baron Keurboom from Diestl; Dr. Aartemus of the Academy of Medical Sciences at Narghuys; Merner Ander Stipes, Medical Inspector for the Torpeltines; Dominie Dandrue Cheasling, Headmaster at the Trembling Waters Academy, also on Thesse; the Honorable Shaide Casbain of Meurice, Skalkemond. Among us we represent many eras in the life of Faurence Dacre. Not all, of course. A certain Dr. Leuvil must still be consulted, and then—”

Baron Keurboom made a convulsive clutching gesture. “Are these preliminaries necessary? Let us get to the point! Where is Faurence?”

“Quite right, Baron,” said Hetzel. “We should delay no longer. A vehicle awaits us; we will—”

“Must we travel further then?”

“I consider it essential, Baron. At Masmodo we bridge the final gap in the life of Faurence Dacre. The man who typifies that period is something of a recluse, but no matter; the situation must somehow resolve itself. If everyone is ready? Good. Follow me, if you will…”

The aircraft flew along the chain of the Torpeltines, slanted down upon Jamus Amaha, and landed at Masmodo, behind the post office. As the group alighted a stocky gray-haired man approached and took Hetzel aside. The two spoke together several minutes, then Hetzel turned to the others. “Everything appears to be in order. This is my associate, Bruno Imhalter, of the Azimuth Effectuation Group. A word or two about Dr. Leuvil. At one time he was Faurence Dacre’s partner, then his competitor, and finally his enemy. Yonder is his cottage, and across the way a dispensary, which contains a considerable amount of Dr. Dacre’s equipment. In the dispensary resides a man who is both familiar with Dr. Dacre and who must know his whereabouts: a certain Sabin Cru. I and Merner Imhalter have gone to great pains to ensure that he has not been removed from the vicinity.”

“All very well,” grumbled Clent, “but where is Dacre?”

“Faurence Dacre is unpredictable,” said Hetzel. “We may find that he has resorted to a bizarre disguise. As we all know, Faurence Dacre enjoys the sensation of extrahuman power, to which the anonymity of a disguise sometimes contributes. But now we call upon Dr. Leuvil, although I cannot guarantee a cordial welcome.”

Their approach to the cottage did not go unnoticed. As the group climbed the steps up to Dr. Leuvil’s verandah, the door swung open and Zerpette Leuvil looked forth, round face glowing with rage, her ridiculous blonde ringlets bouncing and jerking. “Please! We do not want to see you. Go away, you have no business here! Or I will call the constable!”

“To no purpose, Miss Leuvil; he would only assure you that we are respectable persons, with legitimate purposes for our visit. If you will announce us, we will transact our business as quickly as possible.”

Zerpette drew a deep breath, charging her lungs for an extended defiance, but from within sounded a few words in a terse voice. Zerpette flounced back and flung open the door. “In then, all of you! Wipe your feet on the mat. You are not here by my wishes.”

The group filed portentously into the side sitting room. “Dr. Leuvil?” spoke Hetzel politely. “I believe that we have already met, if informally.”

The unwilling host, hunched behind a desk, responded only with a grunt; then, noting Imhalter, he declared angrily: “You have put a surveillance upon this house! What is your purpose?”

Hetzel responded: “The affair is simple. We have been told that Sabin Cru is under your care.”

“What of that?”

“Why have you taken charge of Sabin Cru?”

“It is none of your affair.”

“I am not so sure. Is Sabin Cru not Dr. Dacre’s concern?”

“Dr. Dacre has made commitments not yet fulfilled: to myself and to others of my family.”

“In that case,” asked Hetzel, “why should we not join forces?”

“I have learned to trust no living man! Everything I have worked for has been blasted, through trust. No more! I am not interested in your problems; you must do your own work; and now I ask you to go. Do not harass me, a tired sick man who can barely see!”

“You have all our sympathy,” said Hetzel. “Permit us a word with Sabin Cru and we will allow you to rest.”

“I will permit nothing.”

“Then we must act without your permission.”

“That is at your discretion. I cannot force decency upon you.”

“Be so good as to summon him.”

“No. Leave the house. He is not here.”

Zerpette bustled forward. “How long must you stay?”

“Not much longer. Merner Imhalter, look into the dispensary, if you please. Did you speak, Dr. Leuvil?”

“Go. Leave the house.”

Hetzel followed Imhalter out upon the verandah, and gave orders which brought a grim smile to Imhalter’s face.

Hetzel returned into the sitting room. “Merner Imhalter and his men are bringing Sabin Cru here. If you prefer, Dr. Leuvil, we will ask our questions on the verandah.”

“I prefer to hear whatever you have to say.”

“As you wish.” Hetzel spoke to his group. “You may wonder why both Dr. Leuvil and I set such store by Sabin Cru. He is an ordinary Arsh, notable only for the terrible mauling he took from a sea scrag. But he represents for Dr. Dacre a masterpiece, so to speak: the restoration of life to a few shreds of moribund tissue. Even Dr. Leuvil will agree that the work was well done. Correct, Doctor?”

“Dr. Dacre beyond doubt is supreme in his field.”

Several minutes passed. Conwit Clent started to speak, then curbed himself; twice Lazar, Baron Keurboom made his now-familiar clutching clenching gesture.

A tap at the door; Imhalter and one of his operators entered, in company with a man in a soiled white hospital gown.

Hetzel signaled the newcomer to a seat. “We have put you to some inconvenience, which I fear must increase.” He looked toward Zerpette. “You are a doctor’s daughter, and in any event must be aware of the human body.” Hetzel turned to his friends. “Without attempting to extract every dramatic nuance from the situation, I will merely present to you Sabin Cru, the one-time Arsh fisherman, and now as you see.”

Ander Stipes, the District Medical Inspector, leaned forward in sudden interest. “He’s no Arsh. Unless he’s a half-breed—but he doesn’t even look like a half-breed.”

“He’s not exactly pure Arsh,” said Hetzel. “Imhalter, if you will, remove Sabin Cru’s gown.”

Sabin Cru resisted only briefly. The gown was removed; Sabin Cru sat naked except for underwear.

“I will ask you all to inspect Sabin Cru closely,” said Hetzel. “Certain of his adjuncts may well be familiar to you.”

“Unless I am much mistaken,” said Dr. Aartemus, “those are my two legs. And my feet.”

“So that is the way the wind blows!” cried Shaide Casbain in sudden excitement. “There is my left arm; notice the tattoo!”

“The right arm is mine!” declared Dominie Cheasling. “I have long worn this plaz and steel contraption without complaint, but no longer!”

Stipes the Medical Inspector nodded grimly. “Dr. Dacre once told me to keep my nose out of his affairs or I might need a new nose. He meant every word.”

“Faurence told me I used my jaw too much,” Baron Keurboom remarked dolefully. “The result has been the same.”

Conwit Clent said, “I cannot instantly identify my own property, but I am hopeful. Miro Hetzel, your reputation has not been overstated! How did you learn all this?”

“It is a complex process of integrating facts, then adding a lucky guess or two,” said Hetzel, always reluctant to make his work seem too simple. But now, looking around the room, he saw that more was expected of him. “Of course there were interesting incidents along the way. A few days ago I visited Sabin Cru’s mother at Tinkum’s Bar. While there I noticed a photograph of Sabin Cru as he is now, and my suspicions were verified. Thenceforth my first anxiety was to guard him from accident, escape, murder, or any other violent incident. I now deliver this property into your hands.”

“All very well,” said Shaide Casbain, “but what do we do with it?”

Hetzel shrugged. “Across the way is a miniature hospital; we have eminent medical men in our group: Dr. Aartemus, Dr. Leuvil—”

“I am retired; I cannot see to work.”

“That leads us to a new speculation. Just when, Dr. Leuvil, did your eyes start going bad?”

“Not long ago. Three years. Then as if overnight!”

“You know that in the dispensary is equipment to expedite ocular transplant?”

“Yes, of course. Your implications are ridiculous. Dr. Dacre would never dare.”

“What color were your eyes originally?”

“Blue. They have changed with my disability.”

Hetzel nodded. “Let us review your association with Dr. Dacre. He came out as your associate. Ottile was then your nurse—”

“Yes; she would not leave him alone, the rumplinga. I threw him out and threw her out, and Impie became my nurse.”

“Exactly. Dr. Dacre went to Skalkemond. In due course he ran afoul of Merner Casbain and the stringent Skalkemond law as well, and hastily returned to Masmodo. Here he set up a rival practice, hired—or induced—Impie away from her father.

“During this period he salvaged Sabin Cru, but I doubt if his great idea had yet occurred to him, for he had now begun his Flamboyard experiments. Dr. Leuvil reported them to Merner Stipes, who came to Masmodo and rescinded Dr. Dacre’s license. Once again Dr. Dacre was forced to leave. Impie, no longer welcome at home, took a job in the tavern. Dr. Dacre went to Cassander, and became successful, but all the time he reflected upon his various enemies, from Dominie Cheasling, who had expelled him from Trembling Waters, to Ander Stipes, and finally poor Conwit Clent. Dr. Dacre traveled frequently, and each time he traveled Sabin Cru received new equipment. Eyes? Not Dr. Leuvil’s eyes, which were blue.

“Dr. Dacre found himself spending considerable time here at Masmodo. How was he able to conceal his presence? I can describe one possible way. Dr. Leuvil died one night, as if in his sleep. The next morning Dr. Dacre appeared and was able to console Zerpette, now a lass both rollicking and buxom. Faurence Dacre quietly disposed of the body, practiced walking hunched over with a cane, and Dr. Leuvil was more of a recluse than ever. Imhalter, if you please.”

Imhalter, seizing the gray curls, pulled away wig and filmy mask of gray wrinkles, to reveal the features of Faurence Dacre.

“The disguise was indeed bizarre,” said Hetzel critically. “Ottile however mentioned that all the family was left-handed. On the first occasion I met Dr. Leuvil, I noticed that he was right-handed. Therefore, ‘Dr. Leuvil’ was not Dr. Leuvil. Who could he be? Who else but Dr. Dacre?

“Freitzke of course had been sent to assist Ottile; after all, it was now Zerpette’s turn. All the while in Cassander Faurence assiduously courted Perdhra Olruff, only to lose her to a better man. Imhalter, I hope you have taken his weapons?”

“All we can find, Xtl Hetzel: a Vaast ray and a pair of squibboons.”

“So now, I have discharged my task. You gentlemen must decide what next to do. I have suggested the hospital yonder; why should not Dr. Aartemus communicate with an appropriate number of expert surgeons who are willing to perform certain unofficial operations: I might also suggest that if any deficiencies occur—for instance, Sabin Cru is blameless; why should he suffer a new tragedy? Better that the organs he must now give up be replaced by the gentleman who initiated the process.”

“I agree in all respects,” said Conwit Clent. “Dr. Aartemus, what is your feeling in the matter?”

“I am somewhat constrained by the presence of Merner Stipes, the Torpeltines District Medical Inspector.”

“Feel no constraint on my part!” declared Ander Stipes. “In fact, I resign my post as of this instant. When the operations are finished I will reconsider, but as of now, regard me as a collaborator.”