“Very well,” Stenn said. “I seem to be presented with a fait accompli . . .”
I let out a long breath. I was going to make it . . .
” . . . But I would suggest that before committing yourself, you take the precaution of searching Mr. Maclamore’s person. One never knows.”
I could feel the look on my face. So could Arena.
“So,” he said. “Another nifty.” He didn’t seem to move, but the stunner was in his hand. He wasn’t smiling now, and the stunner caught me easily.
5
The lights came on, and I blinked, looking around the room.
My mementos didn’t look much, resting in the center of Arena’s polished half-acre of desk top. The information was stored in the five tiny rods, less than an inch long, and the projector was a flat polyhedron the size of a pillbox. But the information they contained was worth more than all the treasure sunk in all the seas.
“This is merely a small sample,” Stenn said. “The star surveys are said to be unbelievably complete. They represent a mapping task which would require a thousand years.”
“The angles,” Arena said. “Just figuring the angles will take plenty time.”
“And this is what you almost let him walk out with,” Stenn said.
Arena gave me a slashing look.
“Don’t let your indignation run away with you, Arena,” Stenn said. “I don’t think you remembered to mention the fuel situation to Mr. Maclamore, did you?”
Arena turned to Stenn, looming over the smaller man. “Maybe you better button your lip,” he said quietly. “I don’t like the way you use it.”
“Afraid I’ll lower you in the gentleman’s esteem?” Stenn said. He looked Arena in the eye.
“Nuts to the gentleman’s esteem,” Arena said.
“You thought you’d squeeze me out, Arena,” Stenn said. “You didn’t need me any more. You intended to let Maclamore and Williams go and have them followed. There was no danger of an escape, since you knew they’d find no fuel.”
He turned to me. “During your years in space, Mr. Maclamore, technology moved on. And politics as well. Power fuels could be used to construct bombs. Ergo, all stations were converted for short half-life secondaries, and the primary materials stored at Fort Knox. You would have found yourself fuelless and therefore helpless. Mr. Arena would have arrived soon thereafter to seize the scout boat.”
“What would he want with the boat without fuel?” I asked.
“Mr. Arena was foresighted enough to stock up some years ago,” Stenn said. “I understand he has enough metal hoarded to power your entire squadron for an indefinite time.”
“Why tell this guy that?” Arena asked. “Kick him to hell out of here and let’s get busy. You gab too much.”
“I see that I’m tacitly reinstated as a partner,” Stenn said. “Most gratifying.”
“Max Arena is no welcher,” Arena said. “You tipped me to the tapes, so you’re in.”
“Besides which you perhaps sense that I have other valuable contributions to make.”
“I figure you to pull your weight.”
“What are your plans for Mr. Maclamore?”
“I told you. Kick him out. He’ll never wise up and cooperate with us.”
“First, you’d better ask him a few more questions.”
“Why? So he’ll blow his head off and mess up my rug, like . . .” Arena stopped. “You won’t get anything out of him.”
“A man of his type has a strong aversion to suicide. He won’t die to protect trivial information. And if he does—we’ll know there’s something important being held out.”
“I don’t like messy stuff,” Arena said.
“I’ll be most careful,” Stenn said. “Get me some men in here to secure him to a chair, and we’ll have a nice long chat with him.”
“No messy stuff,” Arena repeated. He crossed to his desk, thumbed a lever and spoke to someone outside.
Stenn was standing in front of me.
“Let him think he’s pumping you,” he hissed.
“Find out where his fuel is stored. I’m on your side.” Then Arena was coming back, and Stenn was looking at me indifferently.
* * *
Arena had overcome his aversion to messy stuff sufficiently to hit me in the mouth now and then during the past few hours. It made talking painful, but I kept at it.
“How do I know you have Williams?” I said.
Arena crossed to his desk, took out a defaced snapshot.
“Here’s his I.D.,” he said. “Take a look.” He tossed it over. Stenn held it up.
“Let me talk to him.”
“For what?”
“See how he feels about it,” I mumbled. I was having trouble staying awake. I hadn’t seen a bed for three days. It was hard to remember what information I was supposed to get from Arena.
“He’ll join in if you do,” Arena said. “Give up. Don’t fight. Let it happen.”
“You say you’ve got fuel. You’re a liar. You’ve got no fuel.”
“I got plenty fuel, wise guy!” Arena yelled. He was tired too.
“Lousy crook,” I said. “Can’t even cheat a little without getting caught at it.”
“Who’s caught now, swabbie?” Arena was getting mad. That suited me.
“You’re a lousy liar, Arena. You can’t hide hot metal. Even Stenn ought to know that.”
“What else was in the cache, Maclamore?” Stenn asked—for the hundredth time. He slapped me—also for the hundredth time. It jarred me and stung. It was the last straw. If Stenn was acting, I’d help him along. I lunged against the wires, swung a foot and caught him under the ribs. He oofed and fell off his chair.
“Don’t push me any farther, you small-time chiselers!” I yelled. “You’ve got nothing but a cast brass gall to offer. There’s no hole deep enough to hide out power metal, even if a dumb slob like you thought of it.”
“Dumb slob?” Arena barked. “You think a dumb slob could have built the organization I did, put this town in his hip pocket? I started stock-piling metal five years ago—a year before the ban. No hole deep enough, huh? It don’t need to be so deep when it’s got two feet of lead shielding over it.”
“So you smuggled a few tons of lead into the Public Library and filed it under Little Bo Peep.”
“The two feet was there ahead of me, wisenheimer. Remember the Polaris sub that used to be drydocked at Norfolk for the tourists to rubberneck?”
“Decommissioned and sold for scrap,” I said. “Years ago.”
“But not scrapped. Rusted in a scrapyard for five years. Then I bought her—beefed up her shielding—loaded her and sank her in ten fathoms of water in Cartwright Bay.”
“That,” Stenn said, “is the information we need.”
Arena whirled. Stenn was still sitting on the floor. He had a palm gun in his hand, and it was pointed at the monogram on Arena’s silk shirt.
“A cross,” Arena said. “A lousy cross . . .”
* * *
“Move back, Arena.” Stenn got to his feet, eyes on Arena.
“Where’d you have the stinger stashed?”
“In my hand. Stop there.”
Stenn moved over to me. Eyes on Arena, he reached for the twisted ends of wire, started loosening them.
“I don’t want to be nosey,” I said. “But just where the hell do you fit into this, Stenn?”
“Naval Intelligence,” Stenn said.
Arena cursed. “I knew that name should have rung a bell. Vice Admiral Stenn. The papers said you got yours when the Navy was purged.”
“A few of us eluded the net.”
Arena heaved a sigh.
“Well, fellows,” he said—and jumped.
Stenn’s shot went wild, and Arena left-hooked him down behind the chair. As he followed, Stenn came up fast, landed a hard left, followed up, drove Arena back. I yanked at my wires. Almost—
Then Arena, a foot taller, hammered a brutal left-right and Stenn sagged. Carefully Arena aimed a right cross to the jaw. Stenn dropped.
Arena wiped an arm across his face.
“The little man tried, Mister. Let’s give him that.”
He walked past my chair, stooped for Stenn’s gun. I heaved, slammed against him, and the light chair collapsed as we went over. Arena landed a kick, then I was on my feet, shaking a slat loose from the dangling wire. Arena stepped in, threw a whistling right. I ducked it, landed a hard punch to the midriff, another on the jaw. Arena backed, bent over but still strong. I couldn’t let him rest. I was after him, took two in the face, ducked a haymaker that left him wide open just long enough for me to put everything I had in an uppercut that sent him back across his fancy desk. He sprawled, then slid onto the floor.
I went to him, kicked him lightly in the ribs.
“Where’s Williams,” I said. I kept kicking and asking. After five tries, Arena shook his head and tried to sit up. I put a foot in his face and he relaxed. I asked him again.