Retief at Large (61 page)

            "Why—that's
my
Bolshoi-type ballet theater!" Grossblunder blurted.

            "And
a glendid spift it is, too.Fenwick," the Prime Minister exclaimed, seizing
his hand. "But I'm a fit conbused—I was inder the umpression this
decereful little lightemony was arranged by Amshisiter Balth—"

            "Merely
a bit of artful misdirection to keep your Excellency in suspense, ha-ha,"
Magnan improvised hastily.

            "You
mean—this strendid splucture is a sift from the GDT?" the PM expressed
confusion by writhing his features dizzyingly. "But I had a direct
stinkollection of ceding the site to the Groaci Mission—"

            "Magnan,"
Grossblunder hissed "What's going on here?"

            As
Magnan stuttered, Retief stepped forward, offering a bulky parchment,
elaborately sealed and red-taped. Grossblunder tore it open and stared at the
Gothic lettering.

            "Magnan,
you rascal! You staged all this mummery just to add an element of suspense to
the proceedings, eh?"

            "Whom—I—your
Excellency?" Magnan croaked.

            "Don't
be bashful, my boy." Grossblunder poked a meaty finger into Magnan's ribs.
"I'm delighted! About time someone enlivened the proceedings." His
eye fell on Shinth, whose body was twitching in a curious rhythm, while his eye
stalks waved in no discernible pattern. "Even my Groaci colleague seems
caught up in the spirit of the moment," he boomed heartily. "Well, in
response I suppose we can hardly fail to reciprocate in the same spirit. I
suggest we all troupe off now to witness the presentation of the Groaci
project, eh?"

            "Laybe
mater," a faint voice croaked. "Night row I got to boe to the
gathroom." Shinth turned stiffly and tottered away amid shouts,
flashbulbs, bursting skyrockets, and a stirring rendition of the
Dead March
from
Saul.

            "Retief,"
Magnan gasped as the Ambassador and the PM moved off, chatting cordially.
"What? How—"

            "It
was a little too late to steal the building back," Retief said. "I
did the next best thing and stole the deed to the property."

-

            "I
still feel we're skating on very thin ice," Magnan said, lifting a plain
ginger ale from the tray proffered by a passing waiter. He cast a worried eye
across the crowded lounge toward Ambassador Grossblunder. "If he ever
finds out how close we came to having to write a Report of Survey on one Ballet
Theater—and that you violated the Groaci Embassy and stole official
documents—and that one of our drivers laid the equivalent of hands on the
person of Shinth himself—" he broke off as the slight figure of the Groaci
Ambassador appeared at the entry beside them, his finery in a state of
disarray, his eyes canted at an outraged angle.

            "Good
lord," Magnan gasped. "I wonder if it's too late to catch that
freighter?"

            "Thievery,"
Shinth hissed, catching sight of Retief. "Assault! Mayhem!
Treachery!"

            "I'll
drink to that," a portly diplomat said blurrily, raising his glass.

            "Ah,
there, Shinth," Grossblunder boomed, advancing through the press like an
icebreaker entering Cartwright Bay. "Delighted you decided to drop
by—"

            "Save
your unction," the Groaci hissed. "I am here to call to your
attention the actions of that one." he pointed a trembling digit at
Retief. Grossblunder frowned at the latter.

            "Yes—you're
the fellow who carries my briefcase," he stared. "What—"

            There
was a sudden soft thump, merged with a metallic clatter. Grossblunder looked
down. On the polished floor between his feet and those of the Groaci were
spread several hundred chrome-plated paper clips.

            "Oh,
did you drop something, your Excellency?" Magnan chirped.

            "So!"
Grossblunder bellowed, his face purpling to a shade which aroused a murmur of
admiring comment from the Squalian bearers gathering to observe the byplay.

            "Why,
however did those paper clips get into my pocket?" Shinth wondered aloud,
but without conviction.

            "Ha!"
Grossblunder roared. "So that's what you were after, eh? I should have
known—"

            "Bah!"
Shinth responded with a show of spirit. "What matter a few modest
souvenirs in the light of the depredations of—"

            "Few!
You call sixty-seven gross a few?"

            Shinth
looked startled. "How did you—that is to say, I absolutely deny—"

            "Save
your denials, Shinth!" Grossblunder drowned the Groaci out. "I intend
to prosecute—"

            "I
came here to speak of grand larceny," Shinth cut in, attempting to regain
the iniative. "Breaking and entering! Assault and battery!"

            "Decided
to make a clean breast of it, eh?" Grossblunder boomed. "That will be
in your favor at the trial."

            "Sir,"
Magnan whispered urgently, 'in view of Ambassador Shinth's magnanimous
blunder—I mean gesture—earlier in the evening, don't you think it might be
possible to overlook this undeniable evidence of red-handed theft? We could
charge the paper clips up to representational expenses, along with the
liquor."

            "It
was his doing!" Shinth pointed past Magnan at Retief.

            "You
must be confused," Grossblunder said in surprise. "That's just the
fellow who carries my briefcase. Magnan is the officer in charge of the
investigation. His harassment got to you, eh, Shinth? Conscience found you out
at last. Well, as Magnan suggests, I suppose I could be lenient just this once.
But that's one you owe me—" Grossblunder clapped the Groaci on his narrow
back, urging him toward the nearest punchbowl.

            "Heavens,"
Magnan breathed to Retief. "What a stroke of luck! But I'm astonished
Shinth could have been so incautious as to bring his loot along to the
reception."

            "He
didn't," Retief said. "I planted it on him."

            "Retief—you
didn't—"

            "Afraid
so, Mr. Magnan."

            "But—in
that case, the paper clip thefts are still unsolved—and his Groacian Excellency
is being unjustly blamed."

            "Not
exactly; I found the sixty-seven gross stashed in his office, concealed under a
flower box full of jelly-blossoms."

            "Good
lord—" Magnan took out a scented tissue and mopped at his temples.
"Imagine having to lie, cheat and steal, just to do a little good in the
world.

            There
are times when I think the diplomatic life is almost too much for me."

            "Funny
thing," Retief said, easing a Bacchus brandy from a passing tray.
"There are times when to me it seems hardly enough."

The End

*
* * * * *

ALIEN MEETINGS
...

            A
wavering image formed on the tube. "I outrage! I do not endure! You are
gave one minutes, Eastern Standard Time, for total abandon of vicinity!"

            "Gentlemen,
don't get carried away," Magnan called out over the hiss of static.
"I'm sure this can all be worked out equitably—"

            "Such
indignant my language lack! My goodness! Drat! Other obscenity as
required!"

            "It
will not avail you to rant," Slith whispered. "My guns stand ready to
answer your slurs."

            "My
frustrate!" Okkyokk yelled and brandished a pair of limbs tipped with
shredding devices. "Gosh, such wish to know sensation of plait all five
eyes into single superocular, followed by pluck like obscene daisy—"

            "To
wait in patience until the happy moment when I officiate at your burial, in the
ceremonial sandbox," Slith countered.

            ...
AND TERRAN DIPLOMACY

            "Well,
at least they're still speaking to each other," Magnan said as the
exchange raged on. "That's something."

           
It's
a good thing Relief was there!

RETIEF

AT LARGE

KEITH LAUMER

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RETIEF
AT LARGE

An Ace
Science Fiction Book / published by arrangement with the author

PRINTING
HISTORY

First
Ace Printing / August 1978

Sixth
printing / May 1985

All
rights reserved.

Copyright
© 1978 by Keith Laumer

Cover
art by Bob Adragna

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Group, 200 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016.

ISBN:
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