besides, Passar did such a good job of embellishing it that Jules could hardly recognize
their escapades himself. Any slipups he might have made were covered nicely by
Passar’s exaggerations.
Then came the matter of paying for their sanctuary. Passar was no problem-he had
plenty of contacts and could line himself up with a lot of work in no time. But Jules was
another matter. Tuhlman questioned him in depth about his past, and Jules answered
carefully from the background Chief Kantana had prepared for him. The picture that
resulted was that of a man who would be hunted down like an animal if he stayed on
Chandakha, who had a large family that he wanted desperately to support, and who
would do anything-including killing to get money. The portrait, Jules hoped, of an ideal
recruit for the Vesan conspiracy.
Tuhlman took the bait. He asked Passar to leave the room for a few minutes, and talked
to Jules privately about an organization that might help him get off world and at the same
time look after his family. The work they would require of him would be both easy and
safe, though Tuhlman was careful not to go too deeply into specifics. He spoke in such
glowing terms that Jules was convinced the man got a commission for each recruit he
gathered. It was a hard sales pitch to resist, and Jules did not want to. He told Tuhlman
he’d be delighted to sign up, and the two men shook hands on the deal. Tuhlman then
had Passar and Jules shown to a small room where they had a good hot meal and spent
the night.
Bright and early the next morning, two men came and awakened Jules brusquely,
rousting him out of bed and telling him to dress quickly. He got only a fast cup of tepid
tea as he was rushed out to a waiting copier that took off as soon as he and the men
were aboard. The men put a blindfold on him and circled around the city for a while until
they were sure his sense of direction had been scrambled, then set off for their
destination. Jules asked where they were going and was told bluntly to shut up and mind
his own business. The rest of the trip was conducted in silence.
The quiet was just as well. Jules, not having a watch or any artificial method of gauging
the time, took advantage of the lack of conversation to count his own heartbeats. He had
to find out how far away from Bhangora the training center was; and that biological
rhythm would be his only clue.
About an hour and a half elapsed, according to his estimate, before the copier touched
ground again. The blindfold was taken off and Jules looked around, blinking at the harsh
daylight after so long a period of darkness.
The copier was in the middle of a large open courtyard, with dirt underfoot. Around them
were clumps of men going through various drilling exercises in groups of six or seven. A
stone wall six meters high enclosed the yard on three sides, while on the fourth were a
series of barracks-like buildings. It’s a regular army camp, Jules thought, impressed.
They’ve certainly got organization, if nothing else.
Jules’ guards led him to the nearest of the buildings, which had a slightly more official
look to it than the others. Inside, he was escorted to a small anteroom and told to wait.
Two minutes later, he was ushered into the inner office.
The room was Spartan in its simplicity. A battered wooden desk, a swivel chair, a table,
two straight-backed wooden chairs and a chalkboard were the only furnishings. The
window glasses had been partially opaqued to cut down on the glare from outside, and
Jules-whose eyes had just gotten used to the brightness-now had to adjust to the lower
level of lighting once again.
The man standing behind the desk had an impressive military bearing. He was one of the
tallest Chandakhari Jules had ever seen, easily two meters tall, His posture was
frighteningly erect, and his face bore the scars of countless street fights and melees. He
was dressed in a simple brown caftan that went all the way to the floor.
“Welcome, Gospodin Koosman, to our little school.” The man made no offer to shake
hands, and instead pointed to a chair. Jules crossed the room and sat down; after he
was seated, the other sat down as well. “My name is Jakherdi, and we will be getting to
know each other quite well over the next few weeks.
“I’m sure I’ll enjoy that, sir,” Jules said politely.
The other man sneered. “I doubt that very much. I’m told that in your past experience you
have killed men before. Is that correct?.
“Sure, it’s hard to avoid it out on the streets.” “How many?.
“I never counted. Maybe a dozen, I don’t know. There were two guards in the palace of
the Baron of Calpuna, I do know that.
Jakherdi gave a small snort. “You’ll have to become accustomed to perhaps three times
that number in a week if you work for us. And you will not kill them in a haphazard,
streetfighter’s style, either. Your kills will be neat, trim and businesslike. We will train you
until it becomes routine, and you’ll be working with others who’ve been as thoroughly
trained as you. You will without emotion, for one motive only-profit. Killing out of passion
weakens the soul, and we do not employ weak souls. Do I make myself clear?.
“Yes, very. But the police are looking for me. . . .” “They won’t be looking for you on
Vesa, which is where we will take you when you’ve finished your training. Nor will they be
looking for you here, since they don’t know this place exists. Let us worry about the
risks, Koosman; your sole concern is to learn what we teach and to perform well. If you
do those two things, you will be rewarded far beyond your expectations. That’s all I have
to say to you now; someone will show you to your barracks and get you the supplies
you’ll need, then you’ll join a novice training group. Good luck.
“Thank you, sir.
Jules was escorted to a building toward the back of the camp and assigned a bunk of his
own. Since he had escaped from the prison without any belongings, he had no unpacking
to do. Clothes were found that were approximately his size; he changed into them and
was led outside to be introduced to the other new recruits.
That day was spent mostly in classroom activity. Jules received the basic indoctrination
on what the group was like, what its motivation was and how it operated. He learned that
victims were chosen at random by an advance member of the team who specialized in
this kind of contact. This lead man would approach the victim or victims, strike up a
casual conversation and determine whether they were worth killing. If they were, he
would quickly work his way into their confidence and find some way of isolating them
from everyone except his own people. They would be killed by strangulation, a team
maneuver that made the victim helpless and made the kill most efficient. Their bodies
would be stripped of valuables and then disposed of while one or two members of the
team would go to the victim’s hotel room and clean it out, leaving no trace. Return
spaceship tickets were then cashed in, and the person ceased to be.
“There must be no doors left open behind us,” the teacher emphasized. “This operation
has lasted for twenty years because we carefully close off each possible lead to
ourselves. There is no handle on us to grab. We are like the wind, sweeping what we
can before us and then vanishing without trace.
“Excuse me, sir,” Jules said, raising his hand. “May I be permitted a question?.
“You’re here to learn, and questions help.
“You mentioned disposing of the bodies. If there are as many as you say, how can we
dispose of them all without someone spotting them?” This had been the major puzzle he
and Yvette had been unable to decipher. He hoped to get an answer now.
“Very intelligent point. We utilize the nature of Vesa itself. It is a closed, airless moon and
has to recycle as much of its material as it can. Vesa had an admirably efficient recycling
plant. We simply send the bodies there and they help maintain the balance of life on
Vesa.
Once the explanation was given, the simplicity of it washed over Jules like a wave
coming in to shore. Of course that was the answer! There would be no recognizable
traces of the victims left, just a few centiliters of metallic wastes at the bottom of the
recycling bin. Whoever had thought of this scheme had been thorough and brilliant in