Chapter 9

The next day Hanlon also spent in the cat’s mind, when he was not playing with or attending to his roches, or eating. It happened that he had transferred part of his mind to each of the eight, and was giving them a short workout, when there was a sudden noise at his door, and it was roughly flung open--he had not locked it while at home.

Nine parts of his mind saw through nine pairs of eyes the man who stormed in. Nine pairs of ears heard him snarl, “What’s the big idea of having my men arrested?”

As quickly as he could Hanlon started bringing the portions of his mind from the roches into his own brain. He sat up on the bed, and made his face look blank--but inside he was thunderstruck. How had Ran Auldin found out he was behind those arrests?

“Why ... why,” he pretended to stammer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ran. What arrests? What’s happened?”

The usually fastidious gang-boss was now dirty and his clothing soiled and rumpled. His eyes were red, apparently from sleeplessness, or worry, or both. His voice was still accusing as he answered, “My men were surprised at their work the other night, and I only escaped by luck. Been hiding ever since.”

“But what’s it all about? Why were they arrested? I don’t know anything about what you were doing--Yandor didn’t tell...”

“It must have been you. Nobody else knew.”

“And I tell you I was not told, either, so how could I know? I’ve been too busy getting my act ready and putting it on, and Yandor hasn’t even mentioned you to me.”

Auldin stepped close to the side of the bed as Hanlon struggled to get up, and pushed him down again. Now Hanlon could see that the mobster was carrying in each hand a piece of large rope, approximately half an inch in diameter and about two feet long. The far end of each was tied into a knot, in which pieces of wires had been woven to add weight.

“Maybe you didn’t have anything to do with the arrests,” Auldin admitted, “but I still think you did. Anyway, you used me to get in good with Yandor, then turned him against me. I don’t like that.”

Oh, so that was what had really touched him off. Hanlon saw that the slim man was spoiling for a fight--and that he was using almost any excuse to try to take it out of a fellow who was making good where he had failed.

Hanlon thought, “I don’t want to hurt the guy, now that he’s down, but I sure don’t want to get hurt, either.” He had never seen exactly such weapons as Auldin was carrying, but he had a good idea the native was adept in their handling. They looked old and well-used.

Hanlon rolled suddenly across the bed and jumped to his feet on the other side. But Auldin ran swiftly around the foot of the bed, and Hanlon was more or less cornered in a narrow space. First one of those strange weapons flicked out, then the other, and Hanlon quickly found out how effective they were. The way Auldin snapped and whipped them, made them almost impossible to dodge, and Hanlon felt their burnings across his shoulders--although he was able to protect his face from those first quick flicks.

Hanlon had to get out of that corner, so the next time both ropes flashed out toward him he ducked beneath, down and forward, under Auldin’s arms--and was in the center of the room.

The S S man reached out and took over the minds of two of his roches, and made them run between Auldin’s legs. Then, as the ropes with those terrible knots at the ends flashed out, Hanlon grabbed them and yanked. The combination of that pull and the roches entangled between his legs was enough to upset the gangster, and he stumbled forward. Hanlon quickly swarmed onto him and got a judo hold on Auldin the man could not break. Holding him thus, Hanlon took the two ropes from his powerless hands, and threw them into a far corner.

“Now get this, and get it straight,” Hanlon panted, but as impressively as he could. “I still don’t know what this is all about, but I don’t like your barging into my room and attacking me like this. Now get out and stay away from me. You try anything like this again, and so help me I’ll kill you. And just so you’ll remember...” Hanlon put all his pent-up wrath into his fist and threw it at the now-deflated Auldin’s jaw. This, he knew, was the only way really to impress a man of that type.

He then forced the half-groggy gangster out of the room and loosed him in the hallway, then shut and locked his door. He listened intently, and finally heard the fellow’s mumblings and footsteps going down the stairs. From the window Hanlon watched the thoroughly-frightened native scuttle off down the street, looking furtively all about to see that he was not being followed or observed. Hanlon felt satisfied that he would have no further trouble from him.

As he went back to bed, Hanlon tried to figure this one out. Evidently Auldin did not really know Hanlon had caused those arrests, but was merely using that as an excuse to provoke a fight with one whom he hated for making a success at the same time he, Auldin, was a failure in hiding.

Had Auldin reported this to Yandor? Hanlon had not seen the two together--either through his own or Ebony’s eyes--nor had he found anything of the sort in Yandor’s mind. But he would have to try to find out that answer, also, among the many others.

He sent his mind back into that of the cat, and took up his spying of the theatrical agent.

About an hour later Yandor had a caller, and Hanlon “listened in” with interest and growing delight. For it was Ovil Esbor, the politician. From the talk between the two, in Yandor’s inner, closed office--into which Ebony had also gone--Hanlon got further confirmation of his suspicions. He was more sure than ever now that Yandor was the “top boss” here in Stearra, at least, while Esbor was boss of many other local gangs, including thieves, dope peddlers and panderers.

Hanlon, in his room, made copious notes. “There,” he exclaimed after the two men had parted. “That ought to give Morrie enough info to hang ‘em. I’ll take these notes to him right away.”

But Manning was not in his room when Hanlon got there, and since his door was padlocked, Hanlon could not get in. He took a chance and slid his notes under the door.

All this time, however, Hanlon had been watching Yandor through Ebony’s mind. He had just barely got back to his apartment when the impresario had another visitor ... a masked man. (Hanlon doubted the man had gone through the streets masked--probably had put it on just before entering Yandor’s office.)

“Ha! This should be good,” and the young S S man paid even closer attention, even as he was putting his motor-trike away, and running up to his room. He heard the two distant men discussing many matters of policy, closeted in that inner room of Yandor’s. Hanlon found that the criminal activities were, as he and the other secret servicemen had deduced, planet-wide and under one general control. He knew positively, when this conversation ended, that Yandor was in charge of the activities of this half of the world--the largest continent--and that the masked man was above him in authority.

Was this other king-pin of the whole thing? Or was he, perhaps, what might be termed the “executive director” of the planetary criminal ring? Whatever he was, he was the man Hanlon must get next to and unmask. The Corpsman thrilled. He was gradually but surely climbing that ladder, tediously and maddeningly slow though it seemed sometimes.

“One thing looks sure,” Hanlon thought to himself. “Whether or not this bunch is the one that is opposing Estrella’s joining the Federation, if we can eliminate them it will mean curbing, if not entirely stopping, this planet-wide crime wave. That’ll be worthwhile, even if it’s not really our job.”

He tried to figure some way to get rid of these two men. If he could lop off the head, the body would die--unless it was a Hydra, with self-regenerating heads.

But after an hour or so of further study and thought, it was borne in upon his consciousness that this was not his job at all. He must quit trying to be the big cheese. If he got any leads, the information must be turned over to his father and the secret service general staff, and let them--not him--worry about how to get rid of these men, or punish them in whatever way Estrellan law provided.

When Hanlon went to the theatre that night, he found Yandor there, with Ebony on its leash--as he had known he would from watching the man through the cat’s senses. There was another man with the agent, whom Hanlon had been studying, puzzled by the curious ... blocking? ... in the man’s mind. Yandor now introduced him as “my good friend, Egon,” and the three chatted together until it was time for Hanlon to go and prepare. Egon complimented him highly on his act, which he said he had seen twice already, and upon the perfect training of his animals.

“How in the name of Zappa do you do it?” he asked. “It’s hard enough even to tame roches, to say nothing of training them as you’ve done.”

Hanlon grinned. “Professional secret, nyer.” Then he sobered and added, “Actually, it’s mainly a matter of hours and days and months of hard work with them, until they know me and like me well enough to do what I tell them, and I know what they are able to do.”