Heinlein, Robert A – Friday

“It will not be paid back under any circumstances, and you get no commission from me because I have not appoi~ted you my agent. Perhaps you can collect something from Mosby but, if so, it does not come out of my salary or my interview fee. And I’m not going down to the station to wait around like a boy playing snipe hunt. If you mean business, you’ll send the money here.”

“You’re impossible!” His face left the screen but he did not clear

it. His assistant came on. “Look,” she said, “this job really does have heat behind it. Will you meet me at the station under the New Cortez? I’ll get there as fast as I can make it and I’ll have your fare and your fee.”

“Certainly, dear. A pleasure.”

I called my landlord, told him I was leaving the key in the refrigerator and be sure to salvage the food.

What Fawcett did not know was that nothing could have induced me not to keep this appointment. The name and address was that which Boss had caused me to memorize just before he died. I had never done anything about it because he had not told me why he wanted me to memorize it. Now I would see.

XX VIII

All the sign on the door said was FINDERS, INC. and SPECIALISTS IN OFF-PLANET PROBLEMS. I went in and a live receptionist said to me, “They filled the job, deane; I got it.”

“I wonder how long you will keep it. I’m here by appointment to see Mr. Mosby.”

She looked me over carefully, in no hurry. “Call girl?”

“Thank you. Where do you get your hair dyed? Look, I’m sent here by HyperSpace Lines, Las Vegas office. Every second is costing your boss bruins. I’m Friday Jones. Announce me.”

“You’re kidding.” She touched her console, spoke into a hushphone. I stretched my ears. “Frankie, there’s a floozie out here says she has an appointment with you. Claims to be from Hypo in Vegas.”

“God damn it, I’ve told you not to call me that at work. Send her in.”

“I don’t think she’s from Fawcett. Are you two-timing me?”

“Shut up and send her in.”

She pushed aside the hushphone. “Sit down over there. Mr. Mosby is in conference. I’ll let you know as soon as he is free.”

“That isn’t what he told you.”

“Huh? Since when do you know so much?”

“He told you not to call him Frankie at work, and to send me in. You gave him some backtalk and he told you to shut up and to send me in. So I’m going in. Better announce me.”

Mosby appeared to be about fifty trying to look thirty-five. He had an expensive tan, expensive clothes, a big, toothy smile, and cold eyes. He motioned me toward a visitor’s chair. “What took you so long? I told Fawcett I wanted to see you before noon.”

I glanced at my finger, then at his desk clock. Twelve-oh-four. “I’ve come four hundred and fifty kilometers plus a crosstown shuttle since eleven o’clock. Shall I go back to Vegas and see if I can beat that time? Or shall we get down to business?”

“I told Fawcett to see to it that you caught the ten o’clock. Oh, well. I understand you need a job.”

“I’m not hungry. I was told that you needed a courier for an offplanet job.” I took out a c’py of my brag sheet, handed it to him. “Here are my qualifications. Look it over and, if I am what you want, tell me about the job. I’ll listen and tell you whether or not I’m interested.”

He glanced at the sheet. “The reports I have tell me that you are hungry.”

“Only in that it is getting on toward lunchtime. My fee schedule is on that sheet. It is subject to negotiationÄupwards.”

“You’re pretty sure of yourself.” He looked again at my brag sheet. “How’s Kettle Belly these days?”

“Who?”

“It says here that you worked for System Enterprises. I asked you, `How is Kettle Belly?’ Kettle Belly Baldwin.”

(Was this a test? Had everything since breakfast been carefully calculated to cause me to lose my temper? If so, the proper response would be not to lose my temper no matter what.) “The Chairman of System Enterprises was Dr. Hartley Baldwin. I’ve never heard him called Kettle Belly.”