Chapter 4

After a considerable wait the door was opened. By the light from inside George Hanlon saw a fairly tall native, his hair and beard sleek and burnished from much brushing, and trimmed with unusual care. He was wearing a sort of slip-on gown of heavy cloth, probably a lounging robe. Perhaps the man had already gone to bed--in which case he would undoubtedly be quite provoked at their untimely call, Hanlon thought. Indeed, the man’s face showed surprise and petulance at this interruption.

But Hanlon could see shrewdness and a crafty trickiness inherent in the black eyes, that caused an inward tremor. “I’d sure better be on my toes with this fellow,” he thought.

Yandor scanned the two for a long moment, without a word, then beckoned them inside. But as soon as the door was shut--and locked--he turned angrily on Auldin.

“Well now, what’s the big idea, you stupid idiot, of coming here, and at night, and bringing someone with you. Are you trying to cross me, Ran? You know that isn’t healthy.”

Ran Auldin cringed somewhat and made his voice apologetic. “It’s because it was night, nyer, and we wouldn’t be noticed, that I came now. Besides, I think this is important. I want you to meet Gor Anlo, who’s just come from Lura, looking for a chance, he says, to get into our businesses.”

Auldin slightly emphasized that last word, and Yandor’s eyes snapped wide. He swung about and faced Hanlon, studying him carefully. The young man bore the scrutiny without flinching, a smile of greeting on his face, but without a sign of boldness or brashness.

After a moment Yandor motioned them into an adjoining room, and himself went to sit behind a large, ornate, wooden table-desk. “Sit,” he waved a delicate hand at the two chairs facing him in such a manner that the desk-lamp’s light was strong in the faces of the two, while leaving his own more or less in the shadows. Hanlon could barely repress a grin at this--it smacked so intimately of the old Terran police-questioning technique.

During the short moments they had been in the hallway, however, Hanlon had noticed a small roch standing there, apparently one that Yandor must have partially tamed and kept as a pet. Quickly the S S man had transferred a part of his mind into that of the beast. Now, while his own body and nine-tenths of his mind were in that office room for the interview with Ino Yandor, the other tenth, inside the brain of the roch, was making the animal roam the house, seeking whatever secrets it might find there.

The impresario looked at Hanlon searchingly. “Well now, so you think you’d like to get into the entertainment business, eh?” he said with an attempt at joviality.

“Yes, nyer, that ... and other things,” Hanlon answered calmly. “Back in Lura where I come from, sir, the people seem to be against the idea of a young fellow getting ahead in the world. So,” shrugging, “I came here where I thought there was a better chance of doing myself some good. Me, I’m out after a basketful of gold pentas ... and not too particular how I get ‘em,” he added levelly, but in his eyes was an unmistakable message the Estrellan could not help reading correctly.

“But there are entertainment procurers on the Eastern Continent,” Yandor was sparring for time to evaluate this situation better. “If you have a good way of pleasing the people, they would be glad to take you in hand.”

“Anlo isn’t stupid, Yandor,” Auldin interrupted ... and Hanlon was glad he did at just that moment. For the roch had just peered through the half-open doorway of a room upstairs, and found a man, probably a servant, lying there on the bed, apparently reading from a scroll.

Hanlon did not especially like this spying on anyone, but he had to learn all he could about what was going on here, no matter how he gained the information.

So he reached out and studied the man’s mind. The fellow was not reading at the moment, he found, but was thinking of the “payback” he owed someone named Ovil Esbor, who had obtained this position for him. This Esbor was much like a Terran “ward boss”--a minor politician, but connected with many shady dealings. Hanlon had not previously heard that name, but made a mental note to investigate the man further. He might be another lead.

The S S man withdrew his mind after a bit, and sent the roch searching the other rooms. He noticed quite a few animal pets about the house, but thought nothing special of it at the moment. Meanwhile he, in his own person, began paying more attention to what Auldin and Yandor were saying.

“ ... been in town several days, he says, looking over the situation. How he found out I don’t know, but he knows all our businesses.”

Yandor barely repressed a start of surprise, and his crafty black eyes narrowed. “Why are you spying on ... no, who are you spying on us for?” he demanded in cold tones that again sent a shiver down Hanlon’s spine. For there was no mercy or lack of ruthlessness in that tone. Nor in the man’s attitude. Yet, at the same time, the young man realized stunningly that Yandor, too, was as much afraid of his superior as Auldin was of Yandor ... and Hanlon knew after a fleet scanning of the gangster’s mind that he now felt relief that Yandor had not been investigating him through Hanlon.

But the young S S man had been reading the impresario’s thoughts as best he could, as well as hearing what he was saying. He felt that he knew now how to handle this agent.

“As Auldin said, I’m not stupid, and I am on the make for my fortune. I knew the only way was to check first and talk later. So I asked seemingly innocuous questions here and there--and I’m wise enough never to ask more than one from any one person. That way I found out a lot. I do know something about the entertainment business and can hold up my end of the performance. But I also know the really big money is in the other things you control.”

Yandor did gasp at that. His face grew black and he half-rose and opened his mouth to say something--but Hanlon beat him to it.

“Incidentally,” he lowered his voice but still kept it penetrant as he leaned forward confidentially, “there’s someone in the next room, listening through that door there, to what we’re saying.”

At Hanlon’s quiet words, Ino Yandor’s eyes opened wide, while Ran Auldin barely repressed an exclamation. Neither guessed, of course, that the stranger was looking through the eyes of Yandor’s pet roch which, in the course of its investigation of the house for Hanlon’s benefit, had come to the open doorway of that adjoining room, and had seen the man kneeling there, his ear pressed against the door-panels, listening intently.

Now Yandor reached into a sort of pigeon-hole in his table-desk and quietly took out a flamegun. Tensing himself, he suddenly swung his chair about and leaped to the door. Flinging it open he found, indeed, another man there, before that other could rise and run.

Grabbing the spy’s collar with one surprisingly strong hand, Yandor yanked him to his feet and into the light.

“Ondo!“ he exclaimed. “Well now, what in the name of Zappa were you doing?”

The small man cringed. “Pardon, nyer, I was ... was only trying to make sure that no one was attempting to harm you ... and ... and standing by to help you if they were.”

“I think he’s lying,” Hanlon said, knowing from his quick probe into the other’s mind that he was. “I’ll bet he’s a spy for someone.”

This last, he knew however, was not correct. Ondo was regularly employed by Yandor as a houseman. But he was one of those intensely curious and inquisitive people who always try to find out everything that goes on in any house they happen to be working in.

“By Zappa, you’ll never spy again,” Yandor’s face grew livid. “You know better’n to cross me. You know it isn’t healthy.”

And before anyone could guess what he was about to do, the raging impresario chopped down with the butt of his flamer, and Ondo fell unconscious to the floor, blood welling from a gash in his forehead. The furious entrepreneur was swinging the weapon into firing position to kill the fallen man when Hanlon leaped forward and grasped his arm, holding him back.