“Well, bring him in,” Tambu ordered. “The quicker we get this done with, the better I’ll like it.”
“Do you think it’ll be okay?” Egor asked, jerking his
ROBERT LYNN ASPR1N head toward the seated trio glaring at them from across the room.
“I think so,” Tambu said judiciously as he hefted one of the guns from the table and glanced pointedly at Blackjack. “Go get him.”
The man Egor escorted back to the table was a bespectacled, balding wisp of a man who clutched his attach‚ case to his chest like a drowning man clinging to a life jacket. His eyes kept darting nervously to the guns on the table as the introductions were made.
“There-there won’t be any trouble, will there?”
“Relax, Mr. Hendricks,” Tambu assured him. “Everything is under control.”
“For an arms dealer, you seem awfully nervous around guns,” Whitey observed.
“Just because I sell weapons doesn’t mean I like to be around when they’re used,” Hendricks snapped defensively. “If I had my way, I’d deal only through the mail.”
“Quite understandable,” Tambu nodded. “Now then, Mr. Hendricks, if you could begin going over the weapons specs with Whitey here, I’d like to have a word with Egor.”
The man nodded and began unsnapping his case as Tambu drew Egor aside.
“Egor, I have a couple of errands for you.”
“I thought I would be here for the bargaining,” the big man frowned.
“So did I, my friend, but this is more important. Get down to the spaceport and find out all you can about Blackjack’s ship.”
“Who?” Egor blinked.
“Mr. Personality at the table over there. Get a description of his ship if you can, and relay the information to Puck. Tell him to stand by the guns and open fire if that ship comes anywhere near ours.”