Mack Reynolds - Code Duello

Horsten frowned. “Yes?”

They bowed formally. “The Signore Juarez is without doubt here?”

Helen stuck a thumb in her mouth. “You mean my boyfriend Zorro?” she said around it.

“That will be all, dear,” Horsten said. Then to the newcomers, “Why, yes. Citizen Juarez is here.”

The other one spoke, his voice as formal as his partner’s. “We call on a matter of honor,” he announced. “Undoubtedly, the Signore Juarez will have someone to act for him.”

Dr. Dorn Horsten looked at the newcomers. “Matter of honor?” he repeated.

The committee bowed with fine formality.

He who had spoken first said, “The inspector is desolated, Signore. He realized, only after the departure of Signore Juarez that he had practically given the He to the Signore’s claim to gentle blood upon the planet of his origin, the status of, uh, Gentleman Gaucho.”

Helen caught on first “You mean,” she said, “that silly inspector wants to doodle my Zorro?”

The two stood stiffly, looking straight ahead.

Horsten muttered, “Zen!”

The second customs man said, “Perhaps the Code Duello differs somewhat on Vacamundo. Suffice to say that our custom has it that choice of weapons, place and time of meeting is to be set by the Signore challenged and to be arranged by the respective seconds of the Signori involved.”

The algae specialist said hurriedly. “Now, see here. Perhaps this can all be settled without further difficulty.”

The two eyed him coldly.

Helen said, “Why don’t you go home?”

The first said, “Perhaps the Signore Juarez should, at this point, name the seconds he wishes to represent him.”

Horsten thought about it quickly. “Look,” he said. “Wait here a minute.” He turned and strode back to the living room.

“What’s up?” Jerry said from where he slouched in a comfort chair.

Horsten looked at Zorro. “The inspector has been thinking it over. He’s decided he insulted you, by impugning your status as a Gentleman Gaucho, or whatever you are when you carry one of those hide-away whips.”

Zorro looked at him. “My tranca? They’re nothing. Everybody carries one. I made it up as I went along.”

“Great. Well, now you’re stuck with the story.”

Zorro grunted irritation. “Then just tell him I accept his apology.”

“He isn’t apologizing, exactly. He’s sent two of his men as seconds. Evidently, he figures that not to offer you a chance to clobber him is a reflection on the Firenze code of honor.”

Zorro was flabbergasted. “What do we do now?”

Jerry said, “Refuse him, and you lose face, or image, or whatever it is you lose when you back down before a challenge.”

Horsten said, “You’re supposed to be a rough and tough cattleman, here to do business. Your cover will be under suspicion if you try to wiggle out, particularly after that haughty Gentleman Gaucho show you put on.”

Zorro said disgustedly, “What do they want right now?”

“For you to name two seconds, to get together with them and arrange for the duel.”

“All right, so you’re my seconds. Go make a date to confer with them and we’ll figure out what to do later.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“What else can we do, damn it?”

Jerry got to his feet. “There ought to be some pun I could make on the fact that I’ve never been a second before, always first.”

“Very funny,” Zorro growled.

Horsten and Jerry Rhodes went back to the entry.

Helen was standing there, hands on hips, eyeing the two customs men dangerously. “I’m not going to let that silly inspector hurt my Uncle Zorro,” she was telling them.

Their faces were pained, but they did their best to maintain dignity.

Horsten said, “Helen, do be quiet This is adult business.”

“Hal” Helen snorted.

He said to the two, “Citizen Rhodes and I have been named seconds for Citizen Juarez. I suggest we meet tonight in the hotel bar. I assume there is a hotel bar?”

There was a hotel bar.

“At say, ten o’clock?”

Ten o’clock that night in the hotel bar was acceptable.

They bowed.

Dr. Horsten bowed.

Jerry Rhodes bowed.

Helen stuck out her tongue.

When the seconds of Chief Customs Inspector Grossi had gone, Horsten said, after a long thoughtful moment, “I hope this is what it looks to be on the surface,” he said.

“How’s that?” Jerry asked him.

“Is it simply the sort of nonsense that would prevail under any society that allowed an anachronism such as dueling? Or, is Zorro being deliberately eliminated by someone—perhaps the Engelists? Remember Bulchand?”

“Bulchand?” Helen said.

“The Section G agent formerly stationed here. He was challenged and killed.”

Jerry said, in unwonted seriousness, “You’re right. A customs inspector would be in a good position to eliminate an undesirable. He’s one of the first to see a newcomer to Firenze. And with an off-beat planet like this, how many newcomers are there that wouldn’t pull what amounted to some sort of local boner right off the bat? Enough of a boner so that he could be challenged.”

Horsten said, “You think it’s a put-up job?”

“It was your idea, and it could be.”

Helen said, “Let’s get back to Zorro. Mentioning Bulchand brings up the matter of our getting underway.”

They went back to the living room where Zorro was discovered mixing himself another drink.

“Everything settled?” he asked.

“We meet them in the bar at ten,” Jerry said. Then to Helen, “What do you mean, getting underway?”

Helen resumed her seat, crossed her plump legs and went businesslike. “Our only contact here, since Bulchand is dead, is the office of Section G in the U.P. Embassy, whoever’s holding it down. So, let’s get around to a visit.”

Horsten said, “You think it’s a put-up job?” report there and register as U.P. citizens from over-space, due to upset conditions prevailing on Firenze.”

“What upset conditions?” Helen said.

“The unsettled political situation occasioned by the underground,” Horsten said reasonably.

“That makes sense,” Zorro said. “If anybody’s got any tails following us, we’ve got a perfect alibi for going to the U.P. offices. I’ll phone down to the desk and find out where the embassy is.” He put his glass on the bar and went out to the entry hall where there was a phone screen.

Helen tossed back the rest of her drink, with a practiced stiff-wristed motion that made Dorn Horsten grimace. “I wish there was some way you could wear adult clothing when we were alone,” he complained. “Perhaps you’d look like a midget, but at least…”

“Knock it, you overgrown lummox. It’d look fine, wouldn’t it, if I had a lot of adult clothing tucked away in my luggage for the first snoop to find?”

“Well, at least look as though you’re sipping lemonade or something. You give me an ulcer tossing down that hard stuff as though you were practicing for your Interplanetary Alcoholics Anonymous lack-of-merit badge.”

Helen snorted contempt of his opinion.

Zorro came back, his face even darker than nature had tinted it.

“What’s the matter?” Jerry said, yawning. ” I say, let’s call off everything and go out on the town. Stretch our legs after that Half Moon kettle.”

“We might as well,” Zorro said. “If the U.P. Embassy was our one contact, then we’re contactless.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Helen said.

“The representatives of U.P. on the member planet Firenze have just been sent a-packing,” Zorro told her.