Heinlein, Robert A – Friday

After that dismaying call I sat still and thought, then called the Winnipeg Werewolves Security Guards. I went as high as I could, to a man who described himself as Assistant Commandant, and told him truthfully who I was (Marjorie Baldwin), where I was (Las Ve

gas), and what I wanted, a lead to my friends. “Your company was guarding their home before it was sold. Can you tell me who bought it, or who the agent was who sold it, or both?”

Then I certainly wished for vision as well as sound! He answered, “Look, sister, I can smell a cop even through a terminal. Go back and tell your chief that he got nothing off us last time and he gets nothing off us this time.”

I held my temper and answered quietly, “I am not a cop although I can see why you might think so. I really am in Las Vegas, which you can confirm by calling me back, collect.”

“Not interested.”

“Very well. Captain Tormey owned a matched pair of black Morgans. Can you tell me who bought them?”

“Copper, get lost.”

Ian had shown excellent judgment: The Werewolves really were loyal to their clients.

If I had plenty of time and money, I might dig up something by going to Winnipeg and/or Sydney and rooting at it myself. If wishes were horsesÄ Forget it, Friday; you are at last totally alone; you’ve lost them.

Do you want to see Goldie badly enough to get involved in a war in East Africa?

But Goldie did not want to stay with you badly enough to stay out of that warÄdoesn’t that tell you something?

Yes, it tells me something I know but always hate to admit: I always need people more than they need me. It’s your old basic insecurity, Friday, and you know where it comes from and you know what Boss thought about it.

All right, we go to Nairobi tomorrow. Today we write up the Black Death report for Gloria and for the Mortensons. Then get a full night’s sleep and leave. Uh, eleven hours time difference; try to get an early start. Then don’t worry about Janet and Co. until you get back from the Beanstalk with your mind made up about where to colonize. Then you can afford to spend your last gram in a flatout attempt to find them. . . because Gloria Tomosawa will handle things once you tell her what planet you have picked.

I actually did get a long night’s sleep.

The next morning I had packedÄsame old jumpbag, nothing

much in itÄand was puttering around the kitchen, dumping some items and saving others with a note to my landlord, the leaseholder, when the terminal buzzed.

It was the nice gal with the six-year-old boy at HyperSpace. “Glad I caught you,” she said. “My boss has a job for you.”

(Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.) I waited.

Fawcett’s silly face showed. “You claim to be a courier.”

“I’m the best.”

“In this case, you had better be. This is an off-planet job. Okay?”

“Certainly.”

“Take this down. Franklin Mosby, Finders, Inc., suite six hundred, Shipstone Building, Beverly Hills. Now hurry; he wants to interview you before noon.,,

I didn’t write down the address. “Mr. Fawcett, that costs you one kilobuck, plus round-trip tube fare. In advance.”

“Huh? Ridiculous!”

“Mr. Fawcett, I suspect that you may hold a grudge. It might strike you as funny to send me on a wild-goose chase and cause me to waste a day and the price of a round-trip fare to Los Angeles.”

“Funny girl. Look, you can pick up your fare here at the officeÄ after the interview; you’ve got to leave now. As for that kilobuck.

shall I tell you what to do with it?”

“Don’t bother. For master-at-arms I would expect only master-atarms wages. But as courier . . . I am the best and if this man really does want the best, he will pay my interview fee without a second thought.” I added, “You’re not serious, Mr. Fawcett. Good-bye.” I cleared.

He called back seven minutes later. He talked as if it hurt him. “Your round trip and the kilobuck wifl be at the station. But that kilobuck is against your salary and you pay it back if you don’t get the job. Either way, I get my commission.”