Mack Reynolds: Planetary Agent X

Sid Jakes nodded, his face grim for once. “The little rat is a one man task force.” He bounced up from his chair, walked unhappily about his desk, sat down again. “Maybe we ought to put more men on it,” he groused.

“No!” Ronny blurted.

Sid looked at him and chuckled. “Getting to be a matter of pride, eh? Where do you think he is?”

“Probably in the Norfolk area. He hasn’t used his new card yet. That youngster’s like a cornered fox. He hasn’t done anything wrong yet…” Ronny Bronston took in the amused expression on his superior’s face and growled. “I mean he hasn’t done anything wrong from his viewpoint. With his luck, he should have become a gambler instead of a professional gun for hire.”

“Why Norfolk?” Jakes said.

“It’s the farthest point from Baltimore still in Greater Washington. And, besides, it’s a section where he can stay the most inconspicuous. His clothes must be getting on the crumby side by now, but there are others with crumby clothes in Norfolk.”

Sid said happily, “I’m glad it’s your problem, instead of mine. Where do you think he’s hiding himself?”

Ronny didn’t answer. He said, instead, “Look, can you have Irene go to work on alerting every museum, every art gallery, every library in Greater Washington? Every place where entry is free and there are chairs, rest rooms and lots of people. Same for parks, zoos, that sort of thing. Alert all attendants at such places. Do we have a picture of him yet?”

“No.” Jakes said. “Through our attaché in Palermo we’ve picked up all the dope on him we can, but no picture as yet. But we can have one of the artists do up a sketch based on his physical description. Buckteeth, light brown, almost blond hair, blue eyes.”

“Okay,” Ronny said wearily, coming to his feet. “I think I’ll get over to the Norfolk area. If I had to disappear in this city, I think that’s where I’d head.”

Sid chuckled amusement. “From what we’ve seen of this Billy Antrim, he’s probably one ahead of you. He figures that that’s where you’d figure he’d be, so he’s probably in some swank area such as Arlington, or maybe back in Baltimore.”

“You’re great for my morale,” Ronny muttered. “How’s the rest of the case going?”

Sid Jakes shook his head. “Stymied. Billy Antrim wasn’t a citizen of Palermo. The Palermo Embassy denies they had anything to do with the shooting of Giorgio Schiavoni. Claim it must have been a personal matter between Antrim and Schiavoni. In fact, they hint there was bad blood between the two, when Schiavoni and Billy were both back on Palermo. What’s more, they’re hinting rather heavily that even in questioning them about the matter, Article One is being strained, if not broken.”

“Oh, swell,” Ronny said.

“Worse than you think,” Sid grinned. “Ross is going drivel-happy. This is a real tough one. Most of the victims of our Section G shenanigans never know what hit them. They’re not looking for our particular type of double-dealing. Palermo’s another thing. The Maffeo lads suspect everybody , given cause or not. Our representatives on their planet are bugged, shadowed, have their mail read and their space cables scanned, automatically.”

“So what’s the answer?” Ronny said.

“We don’t have any answer. Not so far,” Sid said, as though pleased. “The way it looks to me, Luigi Agrigento and his Maffeo are going to live happily ever after, and Palermo is going to remain in the dark ages, whether or not the balance of United Planets continues to haul its way up by the bootstraps.”

Ronny Bronston said, “I’m glad I’m only a bloodhound on this assignment. You and Ross can have the headaches.”

Billy Antrim was in Norfolk, all right, but in one other respect he was one ahead of his unknown pursuer. He wasn’t foolish enough to spend his time in museums, zoos, or even parks. His intuition as a killer animal on the run told him that such institutions would be on the watch.

Instead, he made his way to the nearest secondary school, slouched his way in in his now practiced imitation of the teenager of all centuries, joining the crowd. At the first opportunity, he took up a pile of books which some negligent student had left unsupervised for the moment, and carried them along under his arm in like fashion to his neighbors.

He located the school library and stayed there as long as he thought practical, and then managed to find the students’ projection rooms, where he spent the rest of the morning watching educational Tri-D tapes. It didn’t take him long to locate those pertaining to historical matters involving wars of the past and such items of violence.

He discovered by chance that noon-time meals in the school’s cafeteria were free and saved his paper wrapped reserves from the restro-cafeteria of that early morning.

But sleep was now becoming the ultimate necessity. He hadn’t truly slept for three days and even youth has its limits, especially when under the stress being carried by Billy Antrim.

However, he couldn’t discover a hiding place in the school buildings where he could trust himself for even an hour, and he knew that if he took the chance, an hour would never do. Once down, he was going to be a log for at least eight hours, possibly more. He couldn’t afford to let down his defenses for that length of time, even if he had found a hole in which to hibernate.

The Antrim luck continued to hold when school let out. He took up his books and drifted along with the current of students, those who were pedestrian. He hated to be out in the light of day at all but at least he had protective coloring for a time. He had no idea of how good a description Earth authorities had of him. For all he knew, Luigi Agrigento might have even leaked them a photograph, his fingerprints and whatever else they might have wanted the better to hunt down Billy Antrim. His lips pulled further back in a wolf-like, humorless grin; Big Luigi wasn’t going to be entirely happy until he got word that his former protégé was no more. There was a lot Billy knew about the workings of the Maffeo.

As his fellow students dropped off to the left and right, Billy Antrim was faced with the problem of new camouflage. He wasn’t going to be able to walk the streets, certainly not after nightfall, with his armload of books and remain inconspicuous. He had to find shelter, and, above all, he had to find sleep.

He pulled up short before a Sauna-Turkish Bath.

If it was anything like the Moorish type bath which had come down in Sicily from the days when the Saracens had occupied that island, and later went on the planet Palermo…

He’d take the chance. He entered.

The place was, of course, highly automated. There was but one attendant and he, bored, was scanning a portable Tri-D set. He hardly looked up. “In there,” he said.

The dressing room had individual lockers, of course. Right now, he was the only customer. Billy Antrim hesitated only momentarily before parting with his clothes, his food supply and, above all, his knife and gun. But there was nothing for it. He locked them up and slid the elastic which bore the key about his wrist.

There were lettered instructions about the room. He followed directions, spent a minimum time in the steam room, took one quick plunge in the pool, then sought out the massage rooms. They were separate cubicles. He entered one. There was no key, but the door evidently registered OCCUPIED when someone was inside.

He sneered at the instructions for making operative the electrical masseur and flung himself down on the massage table, asleep before his body had completely relaxed on the hard surface.

A voice said, “Hey, chum, you fell asleep. You figuring on stayin’ all night?” There was a laugh, as though something hugely amusing had been said.