As the evidence of internal corruption mounted, it became clear that there were two courses of action. They could search patiently and painstakingly, sift through mountains of data, study the results and hope for a break – or they could plunge themselves into a trouble spot, offer themselves as bait, risk life and limb on a gamble, and trust to mind and muscle to get them out. These were the choices they had to confront …
But really, there was no choice – because they were d’Alemberts.
‘Durward looks to be a hard nut to crack,’ Jules surmisedas the pair were discussing strategy aboard La Comete. ‘Too many agents have been killed there already, to absolutely no gain.’
‘I agree,’ Yvette nodded. ‘Some rather peculiar things are going on there, and I think we might be better off if we do some background work first. We can always tackle Durward if we need to, but we’ll have our feet firmly planted in facts before we do.’
‘Outside of Durward itself, then, I can see only three profitable points of attack: Algonia, Nevander, and Aston. Three forged Patents of Royalty, years apart. Three planets that have – coincidentally? – gained the most notorious reputations for crime and corruption.’
‘And,’ Yvette reminded him significantly, ‘fifty one agents have died on those three planets alone while investigating this affair.’
Jules wet his lips and spoke more quietly. ‘Yes, I know. Most of them were probably as smart and as skilled as we are, yet their lives went down the tubes despite all the help the local SOTE could give them…’ He paused.
‘Uh huh. Go on. Or because of it.’
‘Au juste. The higher the SOTE, the tighter the security. At least in theory. But that treason in the Head’s own office smelled like Pessence de la mouffette, if you ask me.’
Yvette wrinkled her nose at just the thought of skunk perfume. ‘I still wish we could have taken him alive. A good stiff shot of nitrobarb would have answered a lot of interesting questions.’
‘So we have to find out the answers on our own. I think, for the time being, we should stay away from all SOTE contacts, except maybe for the top dog at each place. The question before the house now is, what’s our best cover?’
‘We’ll be looked at closely, that’s for sure,’ Yvette mused, ‘so we’d better pick something in keeping with our splendid physiques.’ She looked down at her own solidly packed form. ‘We can’t be Earthers, not to stand inspection. Nor Delfians, more’s the pity; I rather liked the cloaks and the secrecy.’
‘We’re too obviously the products of a high grav planet,’ Jules agreed. ‘And there haven’t been too many of those settled.’
‘There’s Purity, over in … where? Sector Thirty three, I think.’
Jules frowned in thought. ‘It’s an idea, yes. That splinter group of crackpots on Purity. We can be Puritans.’
‘But would it work?’ Yvette nibbled nervously at her lip. ‘They refuse to have anything to do with anybody unless there’s no way to avoid it. The rest of humanity’s too sinful for them. They expect everyone else, especially mother planet DesPlaines, to be whiffed into incandescent vapor any second by the wrath of God. There are a lot of renegade Puritans, though – sinners who couldn’t stand the “righteous” life.’
‘That’s what I meant. Our story will be that they kicked us out because we became too sinful. We liked to dance and play cards and drink soda pop – to say nothing of mining gold and platinum and diamonds and emeralds and bootlegging all our stuff to Earth for crass remuneration in the world of the flesh. That’s how we made all our money, remember?’
Yvette laughed. ‘Just dimly. I must have been looking the other way at the time, but you can fill me in. They have kicked a lot of people off Purity for doing just that – and for even smaller sins, as well. Go ahead, it’s sounding better all the time.’
Jules paced back and forth in the small forward cabin. ‘Khorosho, how about this? We’ll get ID papers declaring us ex -Puritan Citizens of Earth – the Head can arrange that. You know how toplofty and you-be- damned Earthers are when they go out to visit “the colonies”.’
‘And we’ll be toploftier and you-be-damneder than anybody,’ Yvette grinned wickedly. ‘I like it.’
‘Concealment by conspicuousness,’ her brother nodded. ‘But, as we know, not too many people are aware that Purity is high-grav. We’ll still have to disguise our builds somewhat, particularly yours. There’s lots of short, stocky men around, but you would look a trifle anomalous any where but a high-grav world.’
‘Then we do it the same way,’ Yvette said. ‘Obviousness. We’ll flaunt ourselves at them and dare them to comment.’
‘Absolutely
.’ Jules stared at himself in some imaginary mirror, trying to concoct his disguise. ‘Bare arms and bare legs- let them see the muscles, who cares? What do you think about hair down to my shoulders, gilded and curled to a fare-thee-well? And a handlebar mustache, waxed to points and also gilded. Cloth-of-gold sleeveless jersey with a neckline open to the belt. Tight shorts – blue?’
Yvette shook her head. ‘Too common. Purple.’
‘Yes, purple, the color of royalty. That’ll be the motif, purple and gold. Gold boots up to mid-thigh, and my entire body glistening with gold and amethyst jewelry, a million rubles worth. People will have to close their eyes when I walk into a room.’
‘They do anyhow.’
‘Quiet, I’m still thinking. I need something to hold and wave about in the air and in people’s faces. A swagger stick, I think, a big heavy one that’s got a blaster at one end and a stunner at the other. What do you think?’
Yvette considered the ensemble. ‘Your head’s bare.’
‘So it is. I need a hat- a big floppy purple one with a ten centimeter wide brim and gold plumes half a meter long. And voila – the complete ensemble for the well-dressed secret agent.’
‘I have to admit, no one would ever suspect you of being a SOTE operative in that get-up. You’d even have difficulty passing as a rational human being. I could walk right alongside you wearing a .Service badge and no one would notice.’
‘Uh, I wouldn’t recommend it…’
Yvette laughed. ‘I have no intention of it, believe me. But if you think I’m going to play little brown hen opposite that gorgeous hunk of rooster, you’ve soaked your cerebrum. I’ll design me a costume- no, since we’ll be on this for a while we’d both better have complete wardrobes that’ll knock everybody’s eyes right out of their sockets. In what I’ll drape my body with, no DesPlainian woman would be caught dead at a catfight.’
‘That’s my loving sister!’
‘It’ll be fun. But growing your hair to shoulder length will take months, maybe a year or more. A wig?’
‘Uh hu,’ Jules said, shaking his head. ‘Too chancy. Wigs can be spotted and someone could wonder why we’re doing the phony bit. I was thinking of having a growth implant done. It’ll take about two months, but we’ve got the time. SOTT’s been working on this case for sixty seven years, and Banion – or whoever else is behind this plot – seems in absolutely no hurry to push things along. Why should he – he knows everything about us and we know nothing about him. I don’t think a couple of extra months will mean the difference between success and failure. And it’s not as if we’ll be twiddling our toes in the meantime.’
‘Right. We can go over the data a couple more times, plan our approach, smooth out our act- and I’ve got my entire wardrobe to plan. Alors, let’s fly at it.’
Thus it came about that, seven weeks later, the Executive Offices of the Duke of Algonia were invaded by a couple whose likes had never been seen on the planet Algonia – or, for that matter, on any other planet. They arrived in style aboard the poshest spaceliner flying, the Empress Stanley III. Both Jules and Yvette were disappointed not to be able to use La Comete on this mission, but they’d agreed that public transportation would be much more in keeping with their disguise.
Jules’ costume was as spectacular as he’d described, and he’d developed a persona to match it. His every movement was an exaggeration; he could not seem to stand still, and even the slightest motion was embellished with wild gesticulations. His voice, when he spoke, was loud and brash, grating on the nerves of all who heard him. His tone was the epitome of supercilious snobbery. Although physically short, he was unquestionably a man who could not do things in a small way.
Yvette was, if anything, even more resplendent. She had chosen to match his color scheme of purple and gold in what little she wore, but the arrangement of the colors was the exact reverse of his. Her footwear – calf-high leather boots encrusted with amethysts and diamonds – was royal purple, sparkling and flashing as she walked. Her tight shorts – very tight and very short, were gold lame. Her midriff was bare, and her breasts were supported by a shamefully thin and transparent purple silk scarf that tied behind her neck.