The VMR Theory (v1.1) (17 page)

No little cups of mercury.

Calvin appeared moderately disgruntled. “Well, the next best way to booby-trap a charge is to attach a motion sensor.”

Harry gave him a quizzical look. “If you attached a motion sensor to a bomb, wouldn’t you blow yourself up trying to leave the room?”

“If you were goofy enough not to have the motion sensor set on a timer, I suppose it would, but most people would just set the timer so that the motion sensor doesn’t begin to operate until after they leave.” Calvin rummaged through his satchel. “Let’s see if I’ve got one here.” He pulled one out.

Muffy and Belkasim both pointed and chattered away in Sklo’kotax. “T’at is what was used,” Trixie translated. “One motion sensor for each.”

That meant ten motion sensors to be disarmed, and presumably the areas they covered overlapped. Calvin began sketching in arcs for the motion sensors.

“It looks like we can still go in the back door without setting anything off,” I commented. “How do we neutralize them?”

“Easiest thing is a taser gun.” Calvin reached into his satchel and pulled one out. “It shoots out a stream of electrical particles that will trip the cutouts on the sensors.” He pointed to the diagram. “We can drill a few holes in the walls to get clear shots. Of course, we have to be careful not to hit the charges. If we hit one, half the city will be happy to tell us about it.” Calvin looked at me. “It’s going to take two of us in there.”

Harry raised his hand. “Can I go? Can I go?”

“No.” I looked at Catarina. “I’m not much of a pistol shot, but I’m a wizard with a drill.”

She smiled and held out a coin. “I’ll flip you for it.”

I took the coin from her. “I’ll flip. You cheat.”

I tossed, and she lost. “All right, Calvin, what’s the drill on disarming these things?”

Calvin held up both his hands. “Now, Ken, ordnance is not nuclear science. We don’t know exactly what it’s like in there, so there’s no sense fiddling with the details. When the time comes, we’ll just do the right thing.”

“Uh, Calvin, I don’t think you understand. Those of us who do not play with high explosives on a regular basis would feel much more comfortable if you outline what you expect we’ll encounter when we get inside. That is
the plan.
Once we understand
the plan,
then we can all critique it to make it better.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Don’t you see, Ken? That’s where leadership comes in.” Calvin threw his chest out and smiled to show that he really didn’t hold my abject stupidity against me. “It isn’t the critic who counts. The credit goes to the man down there in the arena, with dirt and sweat and blood on his face. That man strives valiantly and comes up short, but he knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement; and if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly. One percent planning and ninety-nine percent execution, that’s the key to success!”

I ran my fingers through my hair to see if any of it was falling out. “Calvin, stay with me here—the idea behind planning is to anticipate things that can go wrong.”

He looked at me with those shiny little eyes and said in a sympathetic voice, “Now, there’s your trouble, Ken. If you go through life worrying about the bad things that can happen, pretty soon you convince yourself that it’s best not to do anything at all.”

We were interrupted by a knock on the door. “I didn’t know we were expecting anyone else,” I said in a deceptively calm voice.

“That’s not Wyma Jean,” Harry observed, from deep and bitter experience.

I looked around the room. “Harry, why don’t you answer it while the rest of us disappear.”

Whoever was outside knocked again. Calvin scooped up his satchel and disappeared into the closet with his charts, and we had an interesting moment figuring out how many Macdonalds could fit in there with him. Catarina and I crouched behind the bed, and I gestured to Harry to see who it was.

When he opened the door, Mickey, Minnie, and Bunkie walked in. Minnie was towing a large, gaily colored shopping bag mounted on wheels, and she and Mickey bowed. “Mr. Harry, how pleasant it is to see you! We are looking for friend Ken and friend Catarina. Would you perhaps know where we could find them?” Harry pointed.

“Friend Catarina and friend Ken, why are you hiding behind the bed?” Minnie asked. She and Mickey looked at each other and nodded their pointed little heads. “If it is a game, may we play, too?”

I looked at Catarina. “When we heard you at the door, we thought that people were coming to take us away. Either the Marines, or people dressed in white.”

“No, it was us,” Minnie observed. “Friend Ken, may we impose our company upon you?”

“Well, to be completely truthful, we’re a little busy right now. Can this wait?”

Bunkie cleared her throat. “Sir, this should only take a moment and it is time-sensitive, otherwise we would not have interrupted.”

Mickey produced a lengthy document from under his arm. “Friend Ken, would you be adverse to co-signing a loan for us? In place of Uncle Cheeves.”

“How big a loan?”

“What is it? One hundred forty-seven million?” Mickey said airily.

I looked at Catarina. “This is a trick question, isn’t it?”

“What do you need a hundred forty-seven million for?” Catarina asked.

“Computer projections indicate that this is an excellent time for us to diversify, and it would take at least two weeks for us to set up a stock offering,” Bunkie said stiffly.

“Things here are dreadfully bureaucratic!” Minnie expostulated.

“The law doesn’t recognize limited partnerships, and it would hurt Uncles Cheeves’s feelings if we took in general partners—he worries about us so,” Mickey explained. “So a small loan is the only possible solution.”

I glanced at the document he was holding. Bunkie deftly grasped it and turned it right side up. Catarina studied it over my shoulder. I sighed. “Just ran me through the high points, Bunkie.”

“Well, sir,” she said deferentially, “the loan falls due in a little over four months. The agreement provides for four essentially nominal interest payments and for repayment of the principal in gold at current rates. In effect, the investors here are so convinced that the value of gold will increase that they are willing to provide us the money interest-free.”

“We tried to write in a clause allowing them to request repayment in currency in case gold loses value, but they declined.” Mickey twitched his whiskers. “I really do not understand their attitude.”

I sat down on the edge of the bed. “Looks great, guys. Now why do I need to sign?”

“Some of the investment bankers became concerned when they found out that we were minors,” Minnie explained. “It is so unfair.”

Bunkie looked away. “They, umm, feel that the government may try to restrict future importation of gold from Plixxi, and umm, feel that your signature gives them a certain degree of assurance that we will fulfill our end of the contract.”

“I wonder if smuggling pays better than espionage.” I turned to Catarina. “What do you think?”

She smiled. “I think it’s a great idea.”

I blinked my eyes rapidly to make sure the system was functioning. “Excuse me, could you repeat that? For a minute there I thought you said that it was a great idea.”

“Ken, if things go sour, the worst that could happen is that your creditors would seize
Rustam’s Slipper,
which the government isn’t going to return anyway.”

“Well, yes.” I mulled this over. Up until now I had managed to cherish the touching illusion that as soon as the unpleasantness with Wipo was settled, I could go back to being a ship captain. “Well, what’s the absolute worst that could happen?”

“They do have debtor’s prisons here,” Bunkie said uneasily.

“If I get caught, the agency running the debtor’s prison is going to have to stand in line to get me.”

“I would mention,” Catarina added, “that because we’ve become the Special Secret Police pension fund, we are running a little short on cash.”

“You need cash?” Minnie looked in her shopping bag. “I’m afraid we didn’t stop. Would a few hundred thousand tide you over until morning?”

“Thanks, Minnie. That would do just fine.” I looked at Bunkie. “Bunkie, is this legitimate?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, well.” I signed the thing.

Minnie and Mickey both bowed. “Thank you, friend Ken. We greatly appreciate your confidence in us,” Mickey added. “As Bucky says, ‘Trust is the superglue of friendship.’ “

I watched them file out the door. “I wonder why Wipo hasn’t tried to pick them up?”

Catarina shook her head. “No one could suspect those three of being spies. Also, by now they can buy and sell Wipo out of petty cash.”

There was another knock on the door. “This place is busier than a subway station. Harry, can you get that?” It turned out to be Rosalee. I searched for the proper euphemism. “Hello, Rosalee. How is the, ah, entertainment business?”

“I’ve been dirtside so long I’m starting to itch, but the whores in this burg are suffering,” she complained, dropping herself in a chair. “Somebody needs to do something about this planet. I know the males around here can’t do much with their little weed whackers, but they ought to learn to use what they’ve got.”

“Maybe hookers here ought to push for professional status, like lawyers. They could emphasize the therapy angle—maybe offer courses.”

“You know, Ken, you may be on to something there.” She looked at me. “Excuse me, I need to find a phone.”

“I have an awfully big mouth,” I commented to Catarina as the door slammed shut. “We’d better polish up a scheme to get off this planet, because when the Macdonalds do catch up with us, they’re going to want to shoot us on sight.” A muffled thump emanated from the closet. “Did we forget something?”

Harry ran over, jerked the closet door open, and a stack of bodies spilled out. Calvin emerged from the bottom of the pile sporting a black eye and appearing none too pleased about it.

“Elbow?” Catarina inquired cheerfully.

“Easel,” he admitted.

“All right, everybody.” I glanced around the room. “Catarina has native dress for all of us to wear. If nobody has anything else to add, I’ll see you all in the garage next to the elevator at 1900 hours.”

“Wait! Hold your horses, Ken!” Calvin reached back into his satchel. “We’re not done yet.”

“But we will be,” Trixie observed sadly.

Calvin pulled out a handful of pocket radios. “Now it stands to reason that we’re going to need proper communications and proper communications security. Ken, what would you like for your call sign?”

Catarina started grinning, but I was drawing a blank. “Call sign?”

“Sure. Each tactical element gets a call sign. Since you’re the strike force leader, your number would be ‘Six.’ “

I thought for a moment. “How about ‘Blue’? I can be ‘Blue Six.’ “

“Blue Six! Ken, you’ve got to get with the program here! When somebody listening in hears a call sign, they’ve got to know the kind of people they’re dealing with! ‘Blue Six’ sounds like a cheap food additive. You need something strong, a name like—like gunslinger! That’s it! You’ll be ‘Gunslinger Six,’ and I’ll be ‘Gunslinger Five.’ “

Harry jumped up and down. “It’s not fair. I want to be a gunslinger, too.”

I shrugged. “All right, you can be ‘Gunslinger Two.’ “ Trixie was providing a running translation, and before Calvin could object, Belkasim broke in to insist that Wyma Jean have a radio.

“What should her call sign be?” Muffy asked. Catarina’s eyes twinkled. “How about ‘Wild Woman’?”

Muffy and Belkasim conferred briefly. Apparently they wanted to be “Wild Woman,” too. With considerable ill grace, Calvin acceded to their demand. Then Catarina and I tossed everyone out so we could get some rest.

I pulled Harry aside as he was about to leave. “Harry, one thing’s been bothering me. How you keep getting all the female Macdonalds past the Marines at the gates.” Harry began studying the tops of his shoes. “Uh…” Catarina sprawled out on the bed and closed her eyes. “Harry, just pretend we didn’t believe your first explanation and skip ahead to your second.”

Harry took a deep breath. “Well, I gave them a few souvenirs. You know, from the Rats. Like, uh, some Rodent uniforms and a couple of battle flags.”

I gazed up at him in amazement. “Why, Harry. I’m touched that you would do that to help out. Those souvenirs are some of your most treasured possessions. Wait a minute, you don’t own any Rodent battle flags. In fact, Rodents don’t have battle flags.”

“Well, no,” he admitted.

Catarina groaned and rolled over. “You haven’t been palming phony souvenirs off on the Marines, have you?” Harry’s conscience got the better of him. “Ken?”

“Yes?”

“When the embassy bills us for bedsheets—go ahead and take it out of my share.”

After the door closed behind him, I asked Catarina, “What do you think?”

“If everything goes right, we’ll have the charges and be out in fifteen minutes.” She shrugged. “We can bring along a package of marshmallows in case everything doesn’t go right. Are you sure you want to help Calvin disarm charges?”

“I feel responsible.”

“You are responsible.” She reached into her belt purse. “Here, want to split a chocolate bar? You look like you could use one.”

“You’re right about that.” I accepted half of it from her and began gnawing on it thoughtfully. “You know, we really have to figure out how to get off this planet. When the Marines figure out that Harry has been passing out bogus Rodent war souvenirs, it’ll be unanimous—every being on the planet with a gun will be trying for a piece of us.”

“Excellent point.”

“Besides, the laundry here insists on starching my underwear, so I’m running out of clean clothes.” I finished off my chocolate and looked around the room for more. There was a knock at our door. “Now, who could that be?”

It was Trixie. She looked at us nervously. “I must show you somet’ing. You must come quickly.”

She led us to Wyma Jean’s room where the video was on. Trixie told her, “Please turn tee channel back.”

Wyma Jean lifted her head off the sofa. “Do we have to? Soaprah’s on.”

“Just for a minute, Wyma Jean,” I coaxed.