Mack Reynolds - Code Duello

They had reached the next terrace level. The last couple of feet, Zorro Juarez had to drop.

“Sh,” Helen said. She looked at him from the side of her eyes. “That was a shot in the dark,” she murmured. “Kind of a gag. Why did you have to leave Vacamundo?”

Zorro snorted, even as he flicked his whip in such wise that the. tip, up above, disengaged itself from the gargoyle’s leg. “None of your business,” he growled. “Besides, I didn’t have to leave.”

“Ha,” Helen sneered.

He peered over the balustrade of the terrace. “From now on down, it’s straight wall,” he said.

“Only three floors. A cinch.”

“A cinch! And how in hell do we get back up, even if we ever get down without breaking our fool necks?”

She was looking down as well. “No problem. We lower ourselves to the next window. We hang on there until you can attach that fancy whip of yours to the bars. Then down to the next window. Only three floors.” She looked at him mockingly. “Not afraid, are you, big boy?”

He shot a dark look at her, and began to arrange the whip they were using as a rope, once again. “How I ever got myself talked into taking this job…” he muttered.

This time, she swung up onto his back and held her chubby arms and legs around neck and waist. “Let’s get going,” she said. “Dom and Jerry will stretch it out, but we should be back by the time they’ve finished arranging for your demise at the hands of the inspector. Everything will look very authentic if we’re there to welcome them at the door when they return, or at least if you are. Properly, eight-year-old Helen would be in bed.”

He stared down the next twenty feet of wall. “If somebody sees us at one of these windows,” he growled, “they’ll figure we’re vampires trying to get in.”

At the ground floor, they were in an alley behind the Albergo Palazzo . They stood for a moment, after Zorro had disengaged his whip, gathering themselves.

He looked up from whence they had come and shuddered.

Helen said cheerfully, “What an alibi. There’s not a judge in the Confederation who could be talked into believing that anybody’d gotten out of the hotel that way.”

A voice rumbled, “Who’s there! Stand quietly! I’ve been watching. You’re covered with a scrambler. Don’t move!”

Zorro muttered a curse of despair.

Helen squealed, “Save me! Save me! I’m being kidnapped!” and with her arms spread wide, scooted in the direction of the voice, in the shadows of the narrow way.

She was within a few feet of the unknown before she made out his figure.

“Look out!” the other yelped, even as she flung herself into his arms. He was uniformed, brawny, and right now, completely dismayed. He tried to extricate his gun hand from the crying, obviously terrified child.

“Let go!” he demanded desperately.

“I want my daddy!” she shrilled. “I’m being kidnapped!”

The officer tried to get his gun hand again.

A thong reached out and plucked the weapon, all but gently, from his hand. There was a sigh of leather again hissing through the air.

“Save me, save me!” Helen was squealing.

But now there was no answer, the other’s breath being cut off very effectively indeed by the thong around his neck. He could feel the black ebbing in, and his last thoughts were of absolute disbelief.

Helen and Zorro stood above him, moments later, staring down in consideration.

Zorro muttered, “I’d better finish him.”

Helen looked up, startled. “What!”

He glared at her. “Well, what else? You want to leave him here? He’ll walk in a few minutes. He’s only passed out from lack of oxygen.”

“You can’t kill him!”

He looked at her, half belligerently, half in surprise. “Why not? He’s expendable, isn’t he? If there was anything Sid Jakes and Lee Chang Chu drilled into us, it was how big the issues are. How many Section G operatives cash in each year?”

“You’ve got your values a little twisted, lover,” Helen told him. “This Section G operative, at least, doesn’t slit the throat of the first half-baked cop that gets in her way, just to keep the trail neat. Among other things, he’s on our side, he’s no Engelist. Besides, we’ve got other resources.”

She unsnapped a pin from her bib-like apron, twisted the end neatly and, with the point, scratched the back of the hand of the fallen man. He was already beginning to groan, his air coming back to him.

“Lucky I brought along this memory-wash hypo,” she muttered. “We’re really using it.”

Zorro stared down at the fallen guard. “And what happens when his relief, or his superior, or whoever, finds him with three hours of memory gone?”

Helen shrugged, replacing the disguised hypodermic needle. “Who knows?” she said. “Possibly we’ll come to that bridge.”

“Probably, you mean,” he said sourly. “Let’s get out of here.”

They had memorized the map which Jerry Rhodes had gotten at the hotel desk. It had been one of those as near foolproof as possible, charts of a city which are handed out to travelers of any age, in any nation, on any planet where the genus tourist may be anticipated. And the U.P. building had, happily, been located but a few blocks from the city’s most deluxe hotel, the Albergo Palazzo . All of which wasn’t too surprising, both edifices being located in the most swank area of the city.

There were at least fifteen men stationed outside the former headquarters of the United Planets. Some ten of them were in uniform, at least six carrying muffle rifles; the other four, evidently officers, were armed with hand-weapons in quick-draw holsters. The rest of the Florentines were plainclothesmen.

Zorro and Helen passed on the opposite side of the street, she holding his hand and skipping along. Zorro hissed, “How in the name of Holy Jumping Zen are we supposed to get past that army?”

“Three little girls in blue, tra la.”

“Shut up,” he growled.

When they were well past the building in question, they stopped in a shadow and looked back. “Out of the question,” he said.

“You know,” Helen said slowly. “The way they look, I get the feeling the building hasn’t been searched yet. They must have gone through all the gobbledygook of ordering the U.P. personnel off the planet, and such, late enough in the day that they’ve postponed until tomorrow getting into the archives.”

“Maybe, but so what? A mouse couldn’t get through that guard.”

“We’re not mice,” Helen muttered. “Haven’t you noticed? Both sides and the back are surrounded by park. Very formal, very natty, very swank. The United Planets have an impressive building as an Embassy.”

He was contemptuous. “You think there wouldn’t be an equivalent guard at the back door?”

“I don’t believe in doors,” Helen told him. “Come on, let’s check out that park. There’ll probably be lovers in there, and an occasional drunk sprawled on a bench. A man taking his daughter for a walk won’t look offbeat.”

Zorro said nothing. He grabbed up her hand and started for the parkgrounds, grumbling under his breath.

“Easy lover, easy,” Helen said in her childish treble. “Us eight-year-olds aren’t up to your pace.”

They circled the building without being intercepted. They spotted at least two or three plainclothesmen wandering the park paths, but none looked at the pair twice. There were also half a dozen armed men at the rear entry.

“Well,” Zorro said, complete with sarcasm. “Satisfied?”

“Sure,” she said. “Did you notice that open window on the second floor, back in that nice shady corner?”

“No.”