Phule Me Twice (7 page)

"It is I, Beeker," came the familiar voice from the other side. Sushi opened the door, and Phule's butler entered.

"Have a seat," said Sushi, indicating the hotel suite's couch and matching easy chairs. "What's the occasion?"

"The captain is concerned about a situation involving a member of Reverend Ayres's sect," said the butler. "The difficulty is that many members have had their faces altered, so as to resemble their master. This entails obvious difficulties in telling one from another."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," said Sushi, lowering himself into a chair opposite the butler. "A couple of guys I know had the operation done, and now I can't recognize 'em until they start talking. What do you want me to do about it?"

"The police have surveillance camera coverage of an incident in which they believe one of our people is the guilty party," said Beeker, steepling his fingers. "The camera clearly shows a member of the Church of the King robbing and damaging a local restaurant and beating the owner. The Rev. Ayres points out that a large number of civilians also belong to his sect and suggests that one of them could be the responsible party."

"Makes sense to me," said Sushi. "But what do you think I can do about it?"

"The captain has asked to review the surveillance footage," said Beeker. "It occurs to us that minute computer analysis of the voice and movements of the criminal could provide as good an identification as the face."

"Sure, if you had similar footage of all the possible suspects to compare it to," said Sushi. "You already mentioned the main objection: There are a lot of those King's Men out there. Unless we have all of them on tape, there's no way we can pinpoint which one is the robber."

"We can do one thing fairly quickly," said Beeker. "You're our most accomplished computer user. The captain wishes you to compare the surveillance footage to archival footage of our company. There are several holovid disks available, including the entire company at some point or another. Eliminating the possibility that it is one of ours would be of use."

"What if the opposite happens?" asked Sushi, frowning. "What if the robber is one of our guys?"

"That leaves us no choice," said the butler with a long face. "You must turn him in, and the captain will see to it that he pays the appropriate penalty for his crime. There is no other course of action compatible with the honor of the Legion, as he puts the question. However, I doubt it will come to that event. More likely, the culprit's identity will be revealed in the operation's second phase."

"Second phase?" Sushi leaned forward in his chair, his chin on the fingers of his right hand. "OK, I'll bite. What's the second phase?"

Beeker said, "You are, for all practical purposes, the head of a large quasi-criminal organization. This position gives you access to a large body of information, should you ask for it."

"Yeah, I guess I am the head of the Yakuza," said Sushi. "And sure, they have plenty of information. But what makes you think they have the information the captain needs? There are a lot of petty crooks on this planet, and most of them aren't Japanese."

"No, but the owner of the restaurant is," said Beeker. "He is undoubtedly paying your organization for protection. In return, they should be making an effort to find the man who robbed him."

"Japanese? What's the name of the place?" asked Sushi.

"The restaurant is the New Osaka Grill on Hastings Street. A Mr. Takamine is the owner."

"Yeah, I've eaten in there. Good food, even if it is a bit expensive," said Sushi. "But how does this involve me? If the Yakuza can't find the guy that robbed the place without me..."

"You are the head of that organization," said Beeker. "It necessarily involves you, if someone under their protection is robbed without justice being done. Surveillance information from other businesses under their protection is likely to show the culprit: If he ate in one Japanese restaurant, he probably ate in more than one. You are in a position to obtain and analyze the information, and this will undoubtedly reveal the culprit."

"It'll take a lot of work," said Sushi. "Just getting in all those vids, let alone setting up a program to analyze them..."

"I suggest you make it a priority," said Beeker. "It works to your benefit on two fronts. First, to show that the superfamily you have invented can, in fact, deliver benefits to a local family. And second, you convince the captain that the time you spend on this project does, after all, benefit his company."

"OK, I see what you mean," said Sushi. "I guess I'd better get on it." He sighed. So much for his hopes of joining the gang in the bar tonight-or any time soon.

"You will in time see the rewards for this hard work," said Beeker, standing up.

"I guess I will," said Sushi. "But a nice cold beer was looking good, too."

Beeker raised an eyebrow. "I can assure you, young man, that the beer in the bar will be just as cold when you have finished this task as it is now, and the satisfaction of a job well done will greatly enhance its flavor."

"Oh, I know that," said Sushi. "I just wish I didn't have to be so damned mature all of a sudden."

Beeker gave just the hint of a smile. "Maturity may not be the most attractive way of life, but speaking only for myself, I am just as happy to be able to take part in it. Perhaps, upon reflection, you will feel the same. Good day, young man."

This time it was going to work. This time it had better work, Lola told herself. All things considered, she and Ernie had been lucky to get away with two failed attempts to kidnap the captain. Their luck couldn't hold out much longer. If it didn't work this time, she was going to call it off and deal with the consequences. As long as her bosses didn't decide to lock her and Ernie in the same room, she figured she could deal with anything less annoying.

"He's coming," said the voice in her ear.

"Are you sure?" she hissed.

"Yeah, I'm sure, babe. Ball's in your court." Ernie sounded calm, assured. That didn't fool her. Ernie had been just as sure of himself the last time, when she'd prostrated herself in front of the wrong target, a room service waiter. She hoped the befuddled waiter hadn't reported the incident-or, if he had, that it had been written off as a drunken prank by a customer. If the captain was alerted to the possibility of trouble, the odds of success dramatically dropped. And they were already low enough, as far as Lola was concerned.

After the previous debacle, she had decided that the best way to prevent any warning from reaching the captain was to set the ambush for first thing in the morning, as the captain was on his way to his office. With any luck, he would still be groggy from sleep-or so Lola hoped. There had to be some advantage to getting up at the crack of dawn.

She peered between the fronds of the potted plant as she heard the footsteps nearing. Yes, here came the captain. Lola leapt out into the corridor to sprawl in front of the (hopefully) unsuspecting Legion officer. "Captain! Help me!" she whimpered. She was starting to get good at this act, she realized. Maybe if this caper didn't come off, she could get a job in the Casino's entertainment division, in the chorus behind Dee Dee Watkins.

"What's the matter, miss?" asked Captain Jester, bending over, a concerned look on his face.

Yes! thought Lola, doing her best to keep from smiling. At last, things were working on schedule. "That horrible man's been following me again," she said, doing her best to appear pathetic and intense at the same time.

"He has?" The captain peered around in all directions. "Where is he?"

"He ran back that way," she said, pointing down the cross corridor. It lay on the way to the casino's health club, a facility rarely visited by customers, although the legionnaires made good use of it. This early in the morning, the corridor would be deserted-a perfect spot for their ambush.

"Show me," said the captain, and again she had to bite her lip to keep from breaking out into a grin.

"Yes, but please stay close to me," she said, allowing him to help her to her feet. "I don't want him finding me alone."

"Don't worry," said the captain. "You'll be all right. He's probably run away by now, but we'll catch him if he hasn't." He began walking quietly-almost supernaturally quietly, and very confidently-down the corridor. It occurred to Lola that he was most likely highly trained at one or more martial arts. It was a good thing their plan didn't require them to engage the captain in unarmed combat. She allowed herself to shudder at the notion-it would add a touch of verisimilitude to her "maiden in distress" act.

The captain stopped and looked down at her. "Don't be afraid now, ma'am," he said, misinterpreting the shudder exactly as she'd hoped he would. "The Legion's in charge here, and we're not going to let anything happen to you."

"Oh, thank you," she said, doing her best to make it sound sincere. "I'll just stay right behind you, if you don't mind."

"That's probably best," he said, and he turned to peer down the corridor again. Lola tensed; somewhere not far away, Ernie should be waiting, ready to play his part in their little charade. The captain edged forward, quietly; he was being careful. Would Ernie be able to bring it off?

The captain stopped and peered down a side corridor leading to an emergency exit. He nodded, took a step forward, and then...

Lola let out a piercing shriek. "Over there!" she cried, and as the captain turned to look, Ernie struck.

They'd chosen their weapon to incapacitate their victim as quickly as possible without undue risk of injury, particularly to themselves. The Zenobian stun ray wasn't in the civilian arsenal yet, but the goo gun was a good second best. Firing a huge gob of incredibly sticky material, it enveloped its victim in a viscous mass of goo and trapped him as surely as a fly on flypaper. Police departments throughout the settled worlds used it for riot control. It wasn't foolproof; inexperienced users sometimes got themselves stuck in the goo when they tried to secure their victim or got a sound thrashing from an incompletely immobilized victim.

But Ernie had practiced. As soon as the goo had enveloped Phule, he flipped a lever on the gun and fired a burst of a clear liquid, setting the goo so that someone attempting to grasp the victim could do so without getting caught.

"Hey, what are you doing?" said the captain-but too late. A moment later, Lola whipped out a gag and threw it over the captain's mouth, while Ernie darted down the hall a few paces and grabbed a laundry cart just outside the gym. They tipped their victim into it, threw a layer of dirty towels over him, and quickly wheeled him into a service elevator and away.

Journal #514

Even the most punctual worker is sometimes late. Some are more punctual than others; but even they can sometimes be thrown off schedule by the vagaries of weather, transportation, and sheer chance. Bosses and coworkers will fidget, sigh, look out the window, and (depending on factors too various to enumerate) go about their business without the tardy person or await his arrival with some mixture of anxiety and annoyance. If the worker does not appear by some reasonable time, attempts will be made to get in touch, with greater or lesser degree of urgency.

But when a robot is late, that is in itself an occasion for urgency. When the robot is a custom-built facsimile of one's employer, bought at an exorbitant price and put on duty for reasons of utmost security, panic is likely to ensue. It is to the credit of the staff of the Fat Chance Casino that the panic was kept to a minimum on this occasion.

"Disappeared?" Gunther Rafael Jr.'s jaw couldn't have dropped farther if there'd been a 100G gravity field underneath it. "Why, that's impossible."

"I keep hearing about things being impossible, usually right after they happen," said Doc, who had become the Fat Chance Casino's security chief after the departure of Phule's Company. His black Space Legion staff sergeant's uniform was a perfect fit. Only someone with an insider's familiarity with the Legion's insignia and badges would have been able to tell that it was a complete fraud, as were the "Legion" guards Doc commanded. "If it's impossible for the android to disappear, maybe you can tell me what it's done instead of disappearing?"

"OK, Doc, you've made your point," said Rex, who headed up the Casino's entertainment division. "If you're done with the sarcasm, maybe I can interest you in our current problem, which is that the Andromatic Phule has disappeared. The most likely explanation is, the thing's been abducted-or maybe that should be stolen. "

"Who could've done it?" wailed Rafael. "How? Why?" He began to pace nervously around the table.

"Those are all good questions," said Doc. "A better one is, what are we going to do about it?"

"You're the damned security chief," said Rafael, pointing an accusing finger. "Why don't you know what to do about it?"

Doc bristled. "You know the answer to that as well as I do, Gunther: I'm about as much a security chief as you are a casino manager. I'm just an actor who got put in charge of the guard detail because everybody figured the bad boys would be so scared of us they wouldn't start trouble. Now, with our mechanical boss missing, they're bound to figure out we've been bluffing all along."

"And when they do, they'll swoop down on us like wolves," said Rafael, wringing his hands.

"Wolves don't swoop," barked Tully Bascomb. He headed up the gambling operations, and his years of casino experience had been invaluable to Phule when he agreed to run the Fat Chance. "Pull yourselves together, both of you. We've got to come up with an answer to the missing captain before the bad boys do figure out how vulnerable we are. And that means everything's got to look as if nothing's changed. Doc, is there anybody on board you'd trust to play the role of Phule until we can get the bot back?"

"Maybe," said Doc, rubbing his chin. "I've got a couple of kids who're about the right physical type and who are quick studies. With a little makeup..."

"Makeup's no problem," said Rex. "With what we've got here, I could make Dee Dee look like the captain. What I'm worried about is whether your kids can carry off the stunt when they have to talk to customers-and whether they can be trusted keep the secret."

"Well, there's no reason they have to know the whole story," said Doc. "Outside the board of directors, nobody knows that Phule's been replaced by an android. The actor replacing the android doesn't need to know, either. We just tell him the captain's been called off-station on urgent business."

"Or maybe he's sick," said Tully. "That'll do for the short run, sure."

"And as far as the lines, I bet they can do better than the android," said Doc. "They can have a much wider range of permitted responses without getting in over their heads. And they can handle a lot more random situations than the android could."

"I don't know about that," said Raphael. "I was once in a group the android came up to, and somebody started a discussion of the gravball playoffs. I swear, that droid could talk about the sports and weather better than I could! I doubt anybody could have figured out they weren't interacting with a real person."

"Only danger would be if somebody in the group knew the real Phule and spotted the android-or the actor-talking about something Phule didn't know or care about," said Doc. "But with the right direction, even that wouldn't be a problem. Just order the actor to break off the conversation before there's any chance of getting in over his head. We can handle it, believe me."

"OK," said Tully decisively. "We let Doc pick a couple of doubles, coach them to play Phule, and turn them loose as soon as they're ready. We're trusting you on this one, Doc."

"I won't let you down," said Doc. "But this only solves half the problem, y'know."

"Do I ever," said Tully. "Somebody out there's got the android, and it's not going to be very long before they figure out what they've got and what it means. And then we're going to be a target again."

"I hope not. People could get hurt," said Rex. "We need to notify the captain as soon as possible. I'm not anxious to put my actors in the way of that kind of danger. Besides, he's the majority stockholder. We can't deal with a situation of this importance without his input."

"Second the motion, and call the question," said Doc. "I don't think we can afford to delay even a moment."

"No argument here," said Tully. "Give me a moment to place the call, and we'll see what advice Captain Phule has to offer." The others sat in silence as he reached for the comm unit and entered a code. The tension was as thick as a high-stakes poker showdown. None of them were sure just who they were playing against, but everyone knew that the stakes were the entire casino.

Journal #515

Preparations for the company's move to its new assignment had begun almost as soon as the ambassador had left my employer's office. While the ambassador had instructed the captain not to reveal the company's exact destination, it soon became clear to all who paid attention to such matters that it was not to be another planet with a first-rate hotel designed for human occupancy. To the officers' surprise, this discovery did not set off a round of griping about having to abandon the luxurious conditions to which the company had become accustomed. Indeed, the legionnaires seemed to look forward to the change as a sort of adventure.

The major exception was, predictably the mess sergeant.

"Captain, you got to let me know where we're going," said Sergeant Escrima, leaning forward over Phule's desk. His clenched fists rested on the desktop, and his eyes gleamed. "I got to know what kind of supplies we can get there."

"Sergeant, I sympathize entirely with your viewpoint," said Phule, doing his best to calm down the mess sergeant. "In fact, I'm trying to find out the same thing, not just for food stocks but for the whole company. What I can tell you is, we're going to a planet without any previous human settlement. A lot of things we've taken for granted won't be available. You'll have to make do-at least at first-with what we can bring in ourselves. Of course, there are bound to be a fair number of local items you can use..."

"Water and what else?" demanded Escrima. "Can we eat the local meat? I can't do anything without fresh meat, or fresh vegetables, either. What about power? I can't even cook without power."

"Power's not going to be a problem," said Phule.

"Hallelujah, I can boil water." Escrima sneered. "Lots of nice hot tea and reconstituted soups, hah?" He pantomimed spitting out something foul-tasting. "You got to do better than that, Captain."

Phule stood up. "Escrima, I know for a fact that the natives of this world can eat some of our food, so I'm sure we can eat some of theirs, too. I think you should look on it as a stimulating challenge to find out which of their things our people can use, and ways to prepare them-"

"A challenge?" Escrima's eyes widened. "You don't want to challenge me, Captain. No, not unless-"

"Maybe challenge is the wrong word," Phule cut in quickly. "A chance to prove how good you really are. We've all tasted what you can do when you've got a cordon bleu-quality kitchen to work with. I'll guarantee you, there's not a chef on the planet who could top you." This was true; Phule occasionally had reason to eat a meal off-base, and he knew that Landoor's best restaurants served as good a meal as he'd find anywhere in the Galaxy. But the food Escrima put out daily for the legionnaires of Omega Company was even better.

Escrima wasn't in a mood to be flattered. "I make the finest food in the Legion, and now you tell me I got to rough it, cook over a campfire for all I know. How long you think it'll be before everybody starts cracking wise about the food? Captain, you gonna drive me crazy!"

"No, no," said Phule, raising both hands in protest. "We'll have an up-to-date kitchen for you, don't worry about that. As long as I'm in charge of this outfit, you'll never have to settle for anything less than the newest, finest equipment. You have my word on that, Sergeant."

Escrima raised his eyebrows, and for the first time since he'd entered the office, he lowered his voice to something like a civil tone. "I got to give you credit for that, Captain," he said after a moment's thought. "You said you were going to do just that, and did it, no fooling around. OK, then, I'll take your word on the equipment. But that's not the whole game. You give me rotten eggs to cook, and I don't care what kind of stove I got."

"No rotten eggs, Escrima. I promise," said Phule, smiling. "Not even powdered eggs, which as far as I'm concerned are even worse."

"At least a rotten egg used to be an egg," agreed Escrima, wrinkling his nose. "That powdered stuff, maybe it came out of a vat in some chemical plant. About all it's good for, is you can use it to kill bugs, if you got bugs."

"Kill bugs?" Phule's brow wrinkled. "How do you kill bugs with powdered eggs? I didn't think even bugs would eat the stuff."

"No," said Escrima, a sly grin now on his face. "The way you kill bugs, you take a whole big box of the crap and drop it right on top of the bug. Kills him real good, you bet."

Phule laughed. "I promise, Escrima, you get the best ingredients," he said. "If you ever get anything that isn't good enough for you to feed the troops, feed it to me first."

"What?" said Escrima, mortally offended. "You want me to feed you trash?"

Phule nodded. "Yes, absolutely," he said. "That way I know when we're being cheated, and I'll get mad enough to do something about it. You know I'm behind you all the way, Escrima. Look here: On this new assignment, if you want something, let me know and I'll figure out a way to get it. If I have to put a fleet of private transports on the job, I'll get it. But believe me, we should be able to use the local stuff, too. Just wait and see."

Escrima nodded. "If you tell me that, I believe you. All right, then, Captain. We got a deal."

"Good," said Phule. "Now, I told you I'd get you the best equipment available. I've got a new field kitchen ordered-a prototype, designed to allow you to prepare anything you could do in a five-star restaurant under field conditions. We're going to give it a test here on Landoor before we get out somewhere where we can't get it replaced. It arrives day after tomorrow, if everything goes right. I want you to give it a full test and let me know anything it needs to meet your specifications. OK?"

"Yes, sir!" said Escrima. Like half the men in the legion, he loved the chance to play with new toys. Now he was going to get his hands on a brand-new one. It would keep him busy for a while, Phule knew, figuring out ways to get the most out of it. The results would be well worth the effort.

"All right, so I was wrong," said Lola, not sounding in the least contrite. She turned off the hotel room's built-in computer screen, which had been displaying Do-It-Yourself Turing Test, by Minsky & Hofstadter Enterprises. "We've gone and stolen the damned robot dupe instead of kidnapping Willard Phule. Now what?"

They'd realized something wasn't right almost as soon as they'd dissolved the goo gun bonds they'd used to capture their prey. The captive's response to the situation had been thoroughly inappropriate, unless one assumed that a total idiot had been running a Legion company and a major Casino Hotel-not only running them, but running them successfully. Their suspicions aroused, they'd called up the Turing test, and the robot had failed it miserably.

Ernie shook his head, miserably. "We've blown it, for sure," he said. "The bosses send us here to snatch a guy and all we get's a stupid bot. They're gonna wale on our butts for this."

Lola paced back and forth in short steps, thinking furiously. "I think it's time we stopped thinking about the bosses and start looking after ourselves," she said. "We can still make something out of this if we don't panic."

"Panic?" said Ernie, his voice squeaking. "You ever seen what the bosses do to guys who stiff 'em?"

"That's the ones they catch," said Lola. She stopped and pointed at Ernie, and continued, "If we play our cards right, who says they're going to catch us? Especially if we can get Phule to pay to get his robot back. These things can't be cheap. It ought to be worth enough to him to give us enough of a nest egg to run off and hide someplace safe."

"Yeah, I guess the boys gotta be worth somethin' to him," Ernie said, scratching his head. "I wonder what he'll pay to get it back."

"We need to know the going price for an Andromatic dupe, for starters," said Lola. She flopped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling a moment before continuing, "I guess. he'll pay that much just to avoid waiting for the factory to turn out a new one for him. This thing's gotta be a custom model-nobody else would want one that looked like him."