The commodore’s massive head turned back to Cooms. “How well do you know this man, Marras?”
Cooms grinned dryly. “Well enough.”
“Is he leveling?”
“He’d be nuts to be here if he wasn’t. And he isn’t nuts—at least, not that way.”
“There might be a question about that,” Fluel observed. He looked at the commodore. “Why not ask him for a couple of the names that are in it with him?”
“Hagready and Boltan,” Quillan said.
Velladon chewed the other mustache tip. “I know Hagready. If he—”
“I know both of them,” Cooms said. “Boltan works hijacking crews out of Orado. Quillan operates there occasionally.”
“Pappy Boltan’s an old business associate,” Quillan agreed. “Reliable sort of a guy. Doesn’t mind taking a few chances either.”
Velladon’s protruding blue eyes measured him a moment. “We can check on those two, you know—”
“Check away,” Quillan said.
Velladon nodded. “We will.” He was silent for a second or two, then glanced over at Cooms. “There’ve been no leaks on our side,” he remarked. “And they must have known about this for weeks! Of all the inept, bungling—”
“Ah, don’t be too hard on the Brotherhood, commodore,” Quillan said. “Leaks happen. You ought to know.”
“What do you mean?” Velladon snapped.
“From what we heard, the Brotherhood’s pulling you out of a hole here. You should feel rather kindly toward them.”
The commodore stared at him reflectively. Then he grinned. “Could be I should,” he said. “Did you come here alone?”
“Yes.”
The commodore nodded. “If you’re bluffing, God help you. If you’re not, your group’s in. Twenty per. No time for haggling—we can raise Yaco’s price to cover it.” He stood up, and Ryter stood up with him. “Marras,” the commodore went on, “tell him what’s happened. If he’s half as hot as he sounds, he’s the boy to put on that job. Let him get in on a little of the work for the twenty per cent. Ryter, come on. We—”
“One moment, sir,” Quillan interrupted. He took Orca’s gun by the muzzle from his pocket, held it out to Velladon. “One of your men lost this thing. The one outside the door. If you don’t mind—he might pout if he doesn’t get it back.”
* * *
The fifth level of the Executive Block appeared to be, as Heraga had said, quite small. The tiny entry hall, on which two walk-in portals opened, led directly into the large room where the two Pendrake rest cubicles had been placed. One of the cubicles now stood open. To right and left, a narrow passage stretched away from the room, ending apparently in smaller rooms.
Baldy Perk was perspiring profusely.
“Now right here,” he said in a low voice, “was where I was standing. Movaine was over there, on the right of the cubicle, and Cooms was beside him. Rubero was a little behind me, hanging on to the punk—that Kinmarten. An’ the Duke”—he nodded back at the wide doorspace to the hall—”was standing back there.”
“All right. The punk’s opened the cubicle a crack, looking like he’s about to pass out while he’s doin’ it. This bearded guy, Eltak, stands in front of the cubicle, holding the gadget he controls the thing with—”
“Where’s the gadget now?” Quillan asked.
“Marras Cooms’ got it.”
“How does it work?”
Baldy shook his head. “We can’t figure it out. It’s got all kinds of little knobs and dials on it. Push this one an’ it squeaks, turn that one an’ it buzzes. Like that.”
Quillan nodded. “All right. What happened?”
“Well, Movaine tells the old guy to go ahead an’ do the demonstrating. The old guy sort of grins and fiddles with the gadget. The cubicle door pops open an’ this thing comes pouring out. I never seen nothin’ like it! It’s like a barn door with dirty fur on it! It swirls up an’ around an’—it wraps its upper end clean around poor Movaine. He never even screeches.”
“Then everything pops at once. The old guy is laughing like crazy, an’ that half-smart Rubero drills him right through the head. I take one shot at the thing, low so’s not to hit Movaine, an’ then we’re all running. I’m halfway to the hall when Cooms tears past me like a rocket. The Duke an’ the others are already piling out through the portal. I get to the hall, and there’s this terrific smack of sound in the room. I look back . . . an’ . . . an’—” Baldy paused and gulped.
“And what?” Quillan asked.
“There, behind the cubicles, I see poor Movaine stickin’ halfway out o’ the wall!” Baldy reported in a hushed whisper.
“Halfway out of the wall?”
“From the waist up he’s in it! From the waist down he’s dangling into the room! I tell you, I never seen nothin’ like it.”
“And this Hlat creature—”
“That’s gone. I figure the smack I heard was when it hit the wall flat, carrying Movaine. It went on into it. Movaine didn’t—at least, the last half of him didn’t.”
“Well,” Quillan said after a pause, “in a way, Movaine got his demonstration. The Hlats can move through solid matter and carry other objects along with them, as advertised. If Yaco can work out how it’s done and build a gadget that does the same thing, they’re getting the Hlats cheap. What happened then?”
“I told Marras Cooms about Movaine, and he sent me and a half dozen other boys back up here with riot guns to see what we could do for him. Which was nothin’, of course.” Baldy gulped again. “We finally cut this end of him off with a beam and took it back down.”
“The thing didn’t show up while you were here?”
Baldy shuddered and said, “Naw.”
“And the technician . . . was dead?”
“Sure. Hole in his head you could shove your fist through.”
“Somebody,” Quillan observed, “ought to drill Rubero for that stupid trick!”
“The Duke did—first thing after we got back to the fourth level.”
“So the Hlat’s on the loose, and all we really have at the moment are the cubicles . . . and Rest Warden Kinmarten. Where’s he, by the way?”
“He tried to take off when we got down to Level Four, an’ somebody cold-cocked him. The doc says he ought to be coming around again pretty soon.”
Quillan grunted, shoved the Miam Devil Special into its holster, said, “O.K., you stay here where you can watch the room and those passages and the hall. If you feel the floor start moving under you, scream. I’ll take a look at the cubicle.”
* * *
Lady Pendrake’s cubicle was about half as big again as a standard one; but, aside from one detail, its outer settings, instruments, and operating devices appeared normal. The modification was a recess almost six feet long and a foot wide and deep, in one side, which could be opened either to the room or to the interior of the rest cubicle, but not simultaneously to both. Quillan already knew its purpose; the supposed other cubicle was a camouflaged food locker, containing fifty-pound slabs of sea beef, each of which represented a meal for the Hlat. The recess made it possible to feed it without allowing it to be seen, or, possibly, attempting to emerge. Kinmarten’s nervousness, as reported by his wife, seemed understandable. Any rest warden might get disturbed over such a charge.
Quillan asked over his shoulder, “Anyone find out yet why the things can’t get out of a closed rest cubicle?”
“Yeah,” Baldy Perk said. “Kinmarten says it’s the cubicle’s defense fields. They could get through the material. They can’t get through the field.”
“Someone think to energize the Executive Block’s battle fields?” Quillan inquired.
“Yeah. Velladon took care of that before he came screaming up to the third level to argue with Cooms and Fluel.”
“So it can’t slip out of the Block unless it shows itself down on the ground level when the entry lock’s open.”
“Yeah,” Baldy muttered. “But I dunno. Is that good?”
Quillan looked at him. “Well, we would like it back.”
“Why? There’s fifty more coming in on the liner tonight”
“We don’t have the fifty yet. If someone louses up that detail—”
“Yawk!” Baldy said faintly. There was a crash of sound as his riot gun went off. Quillan spun about, hair bristling, gun out. “What happened?”
“I’ll swear,” Baldy said, white-faced, “I saw something moving along that passage!”
Quillan looked, saw nothing, slowly replaced the gun. “Baldy,” he said, “if you think you see it again, just say so. That’s an order! If it comes at us, we get out of this level fast. But we don’t shoot before we have to. If we kill it, it’s no good to us. Got that?”
“Yeah,” Baldy said. “But I got an idea now, Bad News.” He nodded at the other cubicle. “Let’s leave that meat box open.”