“I’ll get it-and censor it. There is no way I am going to let you know any details of my Security Department.”
“Keep your secrets-I couldn’t care less.” Which was of course an outright lie. “Give them code names as well as numbers, conceal their identities. All I want to know is their musical abilities, and will they be any good in the field when the going gets rough.”
This took a bit of time. I went for a long jog to loosen the muscles. Then, while my clothes were being zapped clean in the vacuum washer, I took a hot shower followed by a cold one. I made a mental note to get some more clothes soon-but not until this operation was up and running. There was no escaping that deadly clock that was ticking off the seconds to doomsday.
“Here is the list,” the Admiral said when I entered the office. “No names, just numbers. Male agents are identified by the letter A and . . .”
“Let me guess-the females are B?”
A growl was his only response; he completely lacked any sense of humor. I flipped through the list. Slim pickings among the ladies who ran the gamut from B1 to B4. Pipe-organ player, not very likely, harmonica, tuba-and a singer.
“I’ll need a photograph of B3. And what do these other entries after B1 mean? 19T, 908L, and such.”
“Code,” he said, grabbing the sheet away from me. “It translates as skilled in hand-to-hand combat, qualified marksman on hand weapons, six years in the field. And the rest is none of your business.”
“Thanks, wonderful, you’re a big help. I sure could use her but not if she has to carry the pipe organ on her back. Now let us make some selections from the male list and get the photos coming. Except for this one, A19. No photograph-I just want him here soonest, in the flesh.”.
“Why?”
“Because he is a percussionist and plays a molecular synthezier. Since I know next to nothing about music he is going to teach me my job in this pickup band. A19. will show me the ropes, then record the numbers and set up the machines to play the different hunks of music. I’ll just smile and press buttons. Speaking of machines-does your highly secret service have electronic repair facilities on this planet?”
“That is classified information.”
“Everything about this operation is classified. But I’ll still need to do some electronic work. Here or someplace else. All right?”
“Facilities will be made available.”
“Good. And tell me-what is a gastrophone, or a bagpipe?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea. Why?”
“Because they are listed here as musical skills or instruments or something. I’ll need to know.”
Lubricated by all the credits from the university, manned by the Admiral’s minions, the machinery of my plan began to churn into high gear. The League did have an outpost on this planet – disguised as an interstellar shipping firm-which contained a fully equipped machine shop and electronic facilities.
The fact that they gave me full use of everything meant that it would undoubtedly vanish as soon as this operation was over. While the auditions were being arranged, agent A19 was sent for by the fastest – transportation available. He appeared, slightly glassy-eyed, later that same afternoon.
“You are known to me only by the code reference A19. Could you give me a slightly better name to call you by? And it doesn’t have to be your own.”
He was a big man with a big jaw, which he rubbed as he kicked his brain into action. that’s my cousin’s name. Call me Zach.”
“Right on, Zach. You have quite a musical record.”
“You betcha. I worked my way through college playing in the band. Still do a gig or two from time to time.”
“Then you have the job. You must now sally forth with an open checkbook and buy the best, most expensive and complex hunks of electronic music making that you can find. And they have to be the most compact and microminiaturized ones going. Bring them back and I’ll make it all smaller since everything we bring with us has to be carried on our backs. If you. can’t find it on this planet use galactic mail order. Spend! The more you spend the better.”