Time Crime
and social persons whose servants have been reporting to her. She
thought she was working for a telecast gossipist."
"That's why we have a new butler, darling," Vall interrupted.
"Kandagro was reporting on us."
"Who did she pass the reports on to?" Dalla asked.
Tortha Karf beamed. "She thinks more like a cop every time I talk to
her," he told Vall. "You better appoint her your Special Assistant.
Why, about 1800 every day, some Prole would come in, give the
recognition sign, and get the day's accumulation. We only got one of
them, a fourteen-year-old girl. We're having some trouble getting her
deconditioned to a point where she can be hypnotized into talking; by
the time we do, they'll have everything closed out, I suppose. What's
the latest from Abzar Sector? I missed the last report in the rush to
get to this Council session."
"All stalled. We're still boomeranging the sector, but it's about five
billion time-lines deep, and the pattern for the Kholghoor and Esaron
Sectors doesn't seem to apply. I think they have a lot of these Abzar
time lines close together, and they get from one to another via some
terminal on Fifth Level."
Tortha Karf nodded. It was impossible to make a transposition of less
than ten parayears--a hundred thousand time lines. It was impossible
that the field could build and collapse that soon.
"We also think that this Abzar time line was only used for the
Croutha-Wizard Trader operation. Nothing we found there was more than
a couple of months old; nothing since the last rainy season in India,
for instance. Everything was cleaned out on Skordran Kirv's end."
"Tell him to try the Mississippi, Missouri and Ohio Valleys," Tortha
Karf said. "A lot of those slaves are sure to have been sold to Second
Level Khiftan Sector."
"Well, it looks as though our vacation's out the window for a long
time," Dalla said resignedly.
"Why don't you and Vall go to my farm, on Fifth Level Sicily," Tortha
Karf suggested. "I own the whole island, on that time line, and you
can always be reached in a hurry if anything comes up."
"We could have as much fun there as on the Dwarma Sector," Dalla
said. "Chief, could we take a couple of friends along?"
"Well, who?"
"Zinganna and Kostran Galth," she replied. "They've gotten interested
in one another; they're talking about a tentative marriage."
"It'll have to be mighty tentative," Vall said. "Kostran Galth can't
marry a Prole."
"She won't be a Prole very long. I'm going to adopt her as my sister."
Tortha Karf looked at her sharply. "You sure you know what you're
doing, Dalla?" he asked.
"Of course I'm sure. I know that girl better than she knows herself. I
narco-hypped her, remember. Zinna's the kind of a sister I've always
wished I'd had."
"Well, that's all right then. But about this marriage. She was in love
with Salgath Trod," Tortha Karf said. "Now, she's identifying Agent
Kostran with him--"
"She was in love with the kind of man Salgath could have been if he
hadn't gotten into this Organization filth," Dalla replied. "Galth is
that kind of a man. They'll get along all right."
"Well, she'll qualify on IQ and general psych rating for Citizenship.
I'll say that. And she's the kind of girl I like to see my boys take
up with. Like you, Dalla. Yes, of course; take them along with you.
Sicily's big enough that two couples won't get in each others' way."
A phone-robot, its slender metal stem topped by a metal globe, slid
into the room on its ball-rollers, moving falteringly, like a blind
man. It could sense Tortha Karf's electro-encephalic wave-patterns,
but it was having trouble locating the source. They all sat
motionless, waiting; finally it came over to Tortha Karf's chair and
stopped. He unhooked the phone and held a lengthy whispered
conversation with somebody before replacing it.
"Now, there," he explained to Dalla. "That's a sample of why we have
to set up this duplicate organization. Revolution just broke out at
Ftanna, on Third Level Tsorshay Sector; a lot of our people, mostly
tourists and students, are cut off from their conveyers by street
fighting. Going to be a pretty bloody business getting them out." He
finished his drink and got to his feet. "Sit still; I just have to
make a few screen-calls. Send the robot for something to eat, Vall.
I'll be right back."
THE END