The Gripping Hand (2 page)

Renner had in fact chosen the place. It was a Mormon-Japanese restaurant. Maxroy's Purchase had first been settled by Mormons, and they were still a fair percentage of the populace.

Belinda was alarmed when he tried to order crottled greeps. "Do you know what you're getting?"

"I've read about this dish."

"All right." And she grinned. "I'll help you."

He'd had his doubts about alcohol-removed sake, but it tasted fine. He could get drunk later. Renner often thought of himself as a playboy-spy. Get the sense of the land, while Bury used his own means of gathering information.

Bury's means often startled him.

Bury kept track of the flow of money through the Empire. Only that. He was the same merchant prince he'd always been, with only this difference: that for the past quarter of a century, he watched for Outie maneuvering and kept the Navy informed.

Outies were worlds outside the Empire of Man. Some were harmless, some were not. Fifteen years ago, Outie piracy had been driven from Maxroy's Purchase and from the system. It was to be expected that the flow of money through the system would have dropped off. Only Bury would have noticed that it had not decreased enough. Bury sold civilization; and the Purchase was buying too much of it.

And Bury had some time . . . and Imperial Autonetics owned three ships here . . .

The almond-eyed waiter was trying to hide a smirk when he brought Renner's main course. The dish was conspicuous, a shallow bowl over a foot across and five inches high. Customers at other tables broke off conversation to watch as he set it in front of Renner.

The creatures in the bowl might have been four-legged crabs. Their sides pulsed. Renner remembered reading that they were land creatures. They could almost reach the rim before they dropped back. Their eyes were locked on Renner's as they climbed toward him. They looked hungry and determined.

"Pick up the crottling fork," Belinda whispered. "The two-pronged fork. Use your thumb and two fingers."

It was sitting beside the bowl. Renner picked it up. Belinda whispered, "Stab just behind the head plate. Do it hard enough to set the prongs. You don't want it to drop off."

Hesitating was bad: the greeps would move. You couldn't blame them. Renner stabbed one and lifted the fork. Belinda said, "Scrape it off on the edge. You didn't stab hard enough. They bite."

Renner scraped it off and tried another. The beasts weren't fast, but it wasn't easy to center the fork. He stabbed.

"Good. Pick it up. Your left hand takes the tail. Pull hard."

Renner pulled. The exoskeletal tail came right off, exposing two inches of pale meat.

All eyes were on Renner, to watch him make a fool of himself. The naked tail writhed. Renner felt like a murderer. He said, "So, wretched sand dweller! Now will you tell us of your troop movements?"

"Actually, it was delicious. You really ought to try it," Renner said.

Bury merely looked at him.

"I've done this before, you know. Order something conspicuous, like crepes suzettes. Get 'em looking at me, then pick a conversation. This time I got the proprietor. He came over to lecture. 'Look at that greep. See the shimmy? On the one hand, if they shimmy too hard, they may be diseased. On the other, if they don't shimmy, they haven't eaten well. On the gripping hand, if they're too young and healthy they will escape and attempt to eat you. You would not like that! I jumped a foot when he stuck his hand in the bowl. He liked that. 'But look here, see how it attacks my artificial finger. This is a healthy greep. Other places, they will see a tourist, and they will serve anything. Not here. Lex Shibano will not serve anything but healthy food. If it goes into your body, it must be healthy. I would—"

"Renner!"

"Oh. Anyway, once Shibano came over, no one wanted to be near us. I guess it's one of the hazards of eating there. When he went away, the people at the next table had all lost interest. So I eavesdropped a little. Pair of men to my right were bankers, I think."

"I assume you'll get to the point sooner or later."

Renner nodded. " 'We could sell out and take a capital gain. Then again, the market's going up on Tabletop. We could hang on and make some real money! The other one said, 'On the gripping hand, inflation's running wild on Tabletop. Let's get into something else.' "

Bury was getting older as he watched.

"I talked to Belinda. She's got ambitions, but hell, she's not stupid. She . . . see if I can get this right . . .

" 'Yes, Kevin, I could have spent my life as an honest housewife. Farm life isn't bad if you can afford to keep up the machines . . . but if I'm careful and lucky, maybe I can get to Sparta. Get rich. Then start a restaurant or something. What are my chances of getting to Sparta?"

"I didn't want to lie to her, so—"

"Go on."

"I didn't say anything. She looked down at her plate and said, 'The gripping hand is, I'll never be more than a Maxroy spill. The accent, the way I walk . . . how high can I climb?' " Renner stopped to trickle espresso past his tongue and chase it with half a glass of water.

"Gripping hand," Bury prompted him.

"I wanted a drink. I took her to the Top of the World. It's a rotating bar and restaurant at the edge of the spaceport. The people at the next table looked like prospectors. 'Prices are good for opal meerschaum and we need the money.' Second guy said, 'I hear it's getting harder to find blocks as large as we have. The price will go up.' The first one said, 'Horace Bury landed on the Purchase yesterday. If anybody can find the real source, he can. The gripping hand is, we'd better sell our stock before the price drops.' Bury, it was everywhere!"

"More?"

"I sent Belinda back to the interaction nook. She's looking for a ticket out. She thought I was it. I thought I'd better send her back. A car took off right behind the taxi. I didn't think anything of it, I just tend to notice—"

"My training."

"Right. I strolled on into the spill section. I wanted an overview, and it really felt like I was onto something. That's where I got so drunk. Local whiskey. Made from—"

" 'Gripping hand'?"

Renner sipped more espresso. "Gah! They looked like hunters. Smelled like hunters. 'Oh, I'm used to hunting snow ghosts. The furs sell for a lot, and if you know their habits, they aren't so dangerous.' One said, 'On the other hand, they did get Serge Levoy a month ago. You think they're learning, maybe? Mutating?' Another one laughed and said, 'On the gripping hand, Page, you're too lazy to do anything else for a living.' "

Bury shuddered. "Through the Coal Sack. The Mote is just on the other side of the Coal Sack. Moties must have come through the Coal Sack in slower-than-light ships."

"Not since we were there," Renner said. "Not enough time. And before that—Bury, they couldn't use that lightsail trick through the Coal Sack. Just sending that one ship to New Cal soaked up so many resources it collapsed their whole civilization."

"Gripping hand," Bury said. "Three alternatives, one dominant. Two delicate right arms and a powerful left. People don't think that way. Moties do! There's too much money on this planet. We were looking for Outies. Maybe it isn't Outies. Maybe it's far worse than Outies."

"I don't believe it."

"I don't want to." Bury grimaced. "It is a pity that Nabil had to kill all three who attacked you. I think we might have learned something interesting from them,"

Renner tried to look thoughtful and gave up. He finished the glass of water. "How so?"

"They wanted you alive. Not the actions of random muggers. Peaceable Sam is a gas used by police, not sold to civilians. They were skilled, and desperate, and had resources, but if they had been truly skilled, they would have succeeded."

"Desperate skilled amateurs," Renner said. "Who?"

"I trust we will know in the morning."

"Excellency?"

Bury turned. "Do you have something, Nabil?"

"The records office is closed and the computer is not responsive, so we cannot check retinal pattern identifications tonight, but Wilfred has made progress. Neither the first or second assassin had any trace of darkening in the lungs, no alcohol or drugs in the bloodstream."

"Look for caffeine."

Nabil nodded and spoke to the console.

"Mormons," Renner said. "Narrows it a bit. I'm about to fall over, Horace."

"To bed."

Renner was naked in the sauna. Despite the water and vitamins he had taken the night before, his head throbbed, and his stomach rejected all notions of food. When cold air touched him, he bellowed, "Shut it!"

Nabil smiled thinly. "You were more pleased to see me last night."

"I was still drunk. What do you have?"

"His Excellency wishes to see you. We have identified the assassins. They are crew members from
Nauvoo Vision
."

"
Nauvoo Vision
?"

"The name is Mormon. The ship belongs to Imperial Autonetics."

Renner whistled. "To Bury? Why in hell would crew from one of Bury's ships try to kill Bury's pilot?"

"Not kill. Kidnap," Nabil said. He carefully closed the sauna door.

"
Nauvoo Vision
," Bury said. "Captain Reuben Fox. A native of Maxroy's Purchase. Mormon, and recruits Mormon crew."

"Corruptible?" Renner asked.

Bury shrugged. "I have never had reason to find out. It would be worthwhile smuggling opal meerschaum if there were enough of it, but in fact it is very rare. Nothing else this world exports carries a tariff."

"What else do you know about him?"

"Very little. I do not believe I have ever met him. My Sector Commodore would have promoted him." Bury spoke softly in Arabic to his pocket computer. "It might be worth learning why, but in fact the reason seems clear enough. Fox has been a profitable captain."

"I think we should talk with him," Renner said. "And I'd better alert Navy Intelligence."

Bury grimaced. "I suppose you are correct. Especially since there may be Moties involved."

"The Governor has to know, too."

"I do not like government attention. Should I trust the Governor? If somebody on this world is dealing with Moties . . ."

"You'll be meeting him tonight, for dinner. Horace, I was hunted last night."

Nabil looked up from his console. "That is true. It is clear enough. They followed you, hoping to catch you alone or with only the woman. You left a taxi waiting when you went to the Top of the World."

"We have located the driver. His cab was met at Madame Ressina's by three men with an improbable tale. They lost interest when they discovered that you were not in it."

"They really were hunting me, then. My head still hurts."

"It should, given what you drink," Bury said.

"I take my nerve restoratives. Bury, why did they want me?"

"I would presume for your keys," Nabil said, "and perhaps for instructions on how to enter the house. They carried other drugs. Serconal would have induced cooperation, or at least they must have thought so."

"That's illegal!" Renner protested.

Bury laughed. "Serconal is not only illegal, it is tightly controlled. It would be difficult for me to obtain a supply. Our enemies have resources."

Captain Reuben Fox was a dark-haired man approaching forty. He sagged and jiggled as he walked. He didn't seem otherwise unhealthy. Unlike Navy crew, civilians could neglect their free-fall exercising, and getting the muscle back was pure hell.

He seemed to be hurrying, though he wasn't making much speed. "Horace Bury! Your Excellency, I never expected that we would meet. What brings you to—I mean, what can I do for you? I and my ship?"