At Jules’ acknowledgement of the man’s identity, Yvette immediately released her hold on him and offered a similar apology. The Head stretched his arms to limber them up again in the narrow confines of the front compartment, then laughed deeply as he said, ‘Think nothing of it. If you’d acted any differently you wouldn’t have been the right people for the job. As it is, Jules, I’m very glad indeed to meet you in the flesh,’ and the two men shook hands vigorously- with Jules being careful not to squeeze too hard, for fear of shattering his boss’s hand.
‘And you too, Yvette, my dear,’ the Head continued. Taking her hand, he kissed it in as courtly a fashion as if that tiny, cramped compartment were the Imperial Ballroom itself. ‘And now – purely a formality, of course – the eyes. Yvette first, please,’ and he handed her the retinascope.
She was a little surprised as she fitted the device to her eye. ‘But you didn’t put any disk in,’ she said. ‘Surely, sir, you don’t…’
‘I surely do.’ He studied her pattern briefly, then switched the ‘scope over to her brother and studied his. ‘I don’t know very many patterns, of course; but Jules and Yvette d’Alembert? You’re too modest altogether, my dear.’
‘But … but why should you bother to memorize our patterns?’ Yvette continued to protest. ‘We haven’t really ever done anything for you yet, just a couple of small assignments.’
‘As has been said of acting, there are no small assignments, only small performers. Jules, of course, is the only living person to achieve a perfect score on the thousand point test – and Yvette, your nine ninety- nine was, shall we say, exceptional?’ The test to which he referred was one administered to all SOTE agents during their training. It tested logical capacity, physical agility, reflexes, intuition and a host of other subtle qualities needed by a good agent.
‘It’s true,’ he continued, ‘that I haven’t given you any major assignments so far, for much the same reason that you don’t use cannons to kill mosquitoes.’ His face clouded over. ‘Perhaps I waited too long to get you involved in this case, hoping it could be solved by lesser means.’ Then the cloud vanished as he forced himself into a better mood. ‘But you’re both here now, and perhaps you’ll end up wishing you’d stayed strictly with the Circus.’
He reached over and flipped the blue switch for the com unit. ‘Still safe out there, Helena?’ he asked the girl, who had not moved from the circle of light.
‘Still safe, Father,’ the girl radioed back, and began to walk toward the car. ‘Nothing suspicious, Detection tells me, within five hundred kilometers of here.’
‘Fine,’ Jules said, opening the door for them to get out of their cramped quarters. ‘I was hoping we were fast enough to get away smooth, but I couldn’t be sure. Now, sir, about our guests,’ and he jerked a thumb toward the rear compartment where the prisoners were sleeping off the effects of Jules’ stunner.
‘Ah, yes. I’ve been wondering about them. The reports were confused and contradictory.’
‘I’m not surprised; it happened pretty fast. That one,’ Jules pointed, ‘is probably only a low-bred beambat who doesn’t know a thing. The other one may not know any thing or he may know a lot, it’s hard to tell.’ He related, in a very few words, about the too-imperturbable observer of the brawl. He finished: ‘So our secret rendezvous was no secret.’
The Head’s face looked grim. ‘I see.’ He raised his left wrist to his lips, and the d’Alemberts could see that he wore an ultra miniaturized com unit strapped on there. ‘Colonel Crandon.’
‘Yes, sir?’ came the prompt response.
‘Be on the roof in exactly two minutes. You’ll find two men w ho received number three stunbeams about twenty-five minutes ago. They’re in the rear compartment of a Mark Forty One Service Special near Space Jay Twelve. Revive them, find out what they know and report.’
‘Very well, sir.’
The Head led the way over to an elevator tube. ‘Come along,’ he said. ‘I don’t want anyone but Helena and I to see you two. Your identities are – I hope – still secret, and I’d like to keep it that way.’ Jules and Yvette followed their boss to the tube, with the girl named Helena coming after them.
Cushions of air materialized under their feet and dropped them down to the thirty-first floor, where a door opened in front of them and they entered what was very obviously the private office of an exceedingly important man.
The room was fairly large, furnished richly but quietly. The entire eastern wall was a large picture window, looking down upon the sleeping city of Miami and out beyond to the dark blot that was the Atlantic Ocean.
The brown rug was thick and luxurious, while the beamed ceiling was of beautifully grained brown solentawood and the paneled walls were of the same fine, almost metal-hard wood. Original oil paintings by some of the most noted artists of the day adorned those walls, except for the one behind the large solentawood desk. On that wall was inlaid the gold-crowned Shield of Empire, its double-headed eagle gleaming even in the subdued indirect lighting.
The Head went immediately to his desk and turned a dial. Gold curtains swept soundlessly into place. covering the picture window. Jules and Yvette guessed – correctly – that the Head didn’t want to take any chances of having telephoto pictures taken of this pair of his top operatives.
‘Now we can talk,’ said the girl behind them. Then, holding out her hand to Jules, said, ‘I’m Duchess …
Oh, excuse that, please!’ She flushed hotly as Jules knelt to kiss her hand in true Court style. Standing there with a red face until he finished, she then proceeded to shake hands cordially with both Jules and Yvette.
‘She should blush, friends,’ the Head said, but with no more than mild reproof in his voice. ‘But she hasn’t been in the Service very long.’ Turning to the girl, he went on, ‘Outside titles mean little in here. You are merely the Head’s Girl Friday, my dear. Our guests are of the thinnest upper crust of the entire Service; their worth to the Crown is immeasurable – far beyond any number of duchesses. We’ll sit down now, please, and Helena will pour. She knows my usual.’ He cocked an eyebrow at his two agents. ‘Yours?’
‘Orange juice, please,’ Yvette said promptly, and Jules chimed in with, ‘Lemonade, please, if you have it handy.’ Helena cast them a quizzical glance, which the Head noted with a smile. ‘Our guests are from DesPlaines,’ he told her. ‘Their bodies don’t tolerate alcohol very well.’
Helena pursed her mouth into a small oh and proceeded to mix the requested beverages. The one she poured for herself looked like some sort of cream liqueur. When the glasses were distributed, the four people sat back in their chairs to discuss their current problem.
‘The attack on you two was a complete surprise,’ the Head said in a quiet voice. ‘No leak, nothing irregular was even suspected until the man who was to bring you here to me was killed. The connection between this business and the matter that brought you to Earth is clear. In that context, it’s a highly pleasing thought that the opposition knows nothing of you or of the Circus. You agree?’
‘I agree, sir,’ Jules said, and Yvette nodded her concurrence.
But Helena was puzzled. ‘How can it follow that they don’t know, Father?’
‘The d’Alemberts are new to you because there is no record anywhere of any connection between them and us. The Circus has been SOTE’s primary weapon ever since the Service’s formation, but no record of that fact has ever been written down. Except for this surprise attack, even you would not be learning all the details now. I’ll go into more detail after they leave, but for the present I’ll simply state as a fact that no one who knows anything about them would send only eight people against Jules and Yvette d’Alembert. Or, if only eight, all eight would have fired simultaneously at them and on sight, instead of burning the contact man first. That shows that they were more afraid of the Service here than of the supposed Delfian agents – a fatal error.’
‘Oh, I see excuse me, please, for interrupting.’
‘That’s quite all right. It’s part of your education, Girl Friday.’
‘But even if they didn’t know exactly about us,’ Yvette pointed out, ‘they d id know that something was supposed to happen. There was a leak and we have to plug it – fast.’
‘Right,’ Jules said. ‘Who knew about the meeting?’
The Head began checking them off on his fingers. ‘There’s me; I rule out that possibility. There’s the two of you; you weren’t too likely to set yourselves up to be killed. There’s your father, the Duke; if he wanted to kill you, he could have done it at the Circus and made it look like an accident, without tipping his hand in this clumsy a manner. There’s Sarbatte, the agent who was to contact you; I suppose he’s a possibility, even though they killed him. He might have told them about the meeting thinking they would just kill you, and they decided to kill him too to make it look good. It’s unlikely, but possible.’