Getaway world, p.5
Getaway World, page 5
She then sprinted for the d'Alembert groundcar, which had been parked on a small side road more than a kilometer from the Baroness's estate.
Jules was not yet there, but that was to be expected. The paintings he was after were bulkier than her jewels, and dismantling the alarms connected to them would take a little longer. Yvette waited patiently and, seven minutes later, Jules came running toward the vehicle. Yvette started the motor as her brother leaped inside and, within seconds, their "car" was airborne and flying at top speed back to the spaceport.
Jules shot his sister a quick smile. "I think we should congratulate each other on our success," he said.
"If we don't, who will?" Yvette's voice was equally brimming with exhilaration. The thought of a job well done always stimulated them.
Leaning back in his seat, Jules interlocked the fingers of both hands behind his head. "I think, sister dear, that we are about to acquire a reputation around here."
Jules's prophecy turned out to be a magnificent understatement. The story of the daring cat burglars who'd stolen more than two hundred thousand rubles worth of jewelry and art from the Baroness spread like wildfire through the popular press. The newsrolls were full of the details of the crime, and a couple of the wire services picked up the news and spread it to several of the nearby star systems. Within twenty-four hours, the cat burglars of Cordoba were known to almost everyone on five planets who could read or listen to the news.
Jules and Yvette did not rest on their laurels, either. With their notoriety firmly established, they began a series of robberies every bit as thrilling as the first. Since there was no need to make further splash, they stayed away from the nobility and confined their burglaries to rich members of the common classes. Their take was less, but that was of no concern to them. The important factor was that the risk was also substantially lessened; after all, why should they take the chance of being caught accidentally, before they'd even begun their true job?
Speculation was rife about the identity of these ingenious criminals. It was repeatedly stressed that the thieves could not hope to dispose of their loot, since most of it was highly identifiable and the police were carefully monitoring all the known fences. That detail mattered not at all to the two SOTE agents; once they had accomplished their purpose, they intended to let the loot be found intact. Only the identities of the thieves would remain perpetually undiscovered.
In the meantime, while they spent the late night hours committing their crimes, their afternoons and early evenings were occupied in another phase of their plan. They had to become known within-the local underworld and, in particular, they had to find out where and how they could make contact with someone to "disappear" when the time was ripe.
In order to maximize their contact, the two of them split up and frequented the various hangouts separately. Jules haunted several of the bars, a task he personally disliked-all DesPlainians were allergic to alcoholic beverages and, while there were other stimulants available to him, Jules hated cluttering up his body with what he considered contaminants and poisons. Still, this was considered part of his duty, and he tried to bear it with as few complaints as possible.
After a week he became one of the regulars. The same faces were in and out all the time, and from overheard bits of conversation he could tell which people were involved in which illegal activities. He struck up acquaintances with several of the more promising candidates. They were suspicious of him, at first; newcomers could always be possible police spies or informants. But Jules worked hard to allay their fears. He displayed a genuine unconcern for the details of their crimes-after all, SOTS was not a police agency, and it was not his business to arrest criminals unless their activity bordered on treason.
At length, the people of the underworld came to realize that this affable stranger was no threat to them, and that he was a new audience for all their old boasts and stories. Jules also made it clear he was in the same business, though he made no claim to being one of the now famous cat burglars. An easy camaraderie was established, and Jules felt he would be able to make the proper connections when he had to.
Yvette, meanwhile, was making her own connections elsewhere. While Jules frequented the bars, Yvette made the rounds of the gambling casinos. Gambling was technically illegal on Cordoba, but it was so common a pastime that most law enforcement officials merely looked the other way; the casinos that stayed within respectable limits managed to thrive.
The casinos took all forms. There were some, for the very upper classes, that were located inside posh manor houses. There, amid elegant surroundings, the wealthy people of Cordoba could wager their fortunes with style and dignity. For the middle classes, the casinos usually masqueraded as private clubs or social organizations, complete with membership fees and constitutions. The style was more casual here, though the ultimate results were the same.
Those were not the places Yvette visited. Hers were the dives, the dirty back rooms, the cramped, grimy cellars that smelled more of sweat and stale dope sticks than of perfume and incense. The atmosphere was much more frenetic here, and the gambling seemed more a compulsion than a means of relaxation. Yvette could not help but compare the desperation here with the luxurious conditions she had seen at the famous casinos on Vesa. These places were less crowded than Vesa's, but the tension in them was even more tangible.
Women were not uncommon in these places, although they were usually there to hustle up a little business on their own. Yvette was a good gambler, moderately successful, and she managed to work her way into the confidence of many of the regulars. After four days of steady attendance, she was deemed good enough to be invited into some private games that went on in back rooms. The conversation there was salty, but Yvette picked up a lot more information from chance remarks than the utterers would have believed. She, too, was building a list of possible people to contact when the tune came to vanish.
One day, coming out of a private poker game into the main room, she spotted her brother with his back toward her, standing in the middle of a crowd across the way. She was a little startled; this was supposed to be her turf, and Jules would not have come unless something were about to happen. Crossing quickly to him, she said, "I didn't expect to see you here."
Then the man turned around, and she saw her mistake. It was not her brother after all, but another man with the same distinctive build of a native from some high-grav world. He looked her up and down and gave her a pleasant smile. "I didn't expect to see you here, either," he said. "But I'm certainly glad I did."
Yvette gave him a thorough once-over. He was a most handsome young man, possibly in his middle thirties, with light blue eyes and sandy brown hair that curled in ringlets onto his forehead. He was dressed like a dandy, with a sleeveless U-necked jumpsuit made of black glitter-fabric and pants legs that flared at the bottom. Under this, he wore a white satin shirt with large, puffy sleeves. The shirt was open at the neck and had rows of ruffles covering the front. A waist-length black velvet cape was draped casually about his shoulders and a broad-brimmed black hat with a flat top was tilted at a cocky angle on his head. Tucked into the hat's brim on the right side was a large red rose.
"Excuse me," Yvette stammered, embarrassed. "From the back, I mistook you for my brother Jaro." The man doffed his hat and swept it across the front of his chest as part of a courtly bow. "You flatter me, gospozha. Any man related to you would have to be far better looking than I. If I may be of any use to you instead of him, my name is Pias Nav, at your service." The excess of gallantry might have seemed ludicrous in anyone else, but in this young man it seemed to complement and complete his personality.
Although there were some snickers from the back of the room at such elegant behavior in such a seamy setting, Pias Nav's innate dignity overcame any possible embarrassment.
"Thank you, gospodin, for your offer, but it really isn't necessary. My name is Yarmilla, by the way Yarmilla Dubcek."
"I am honored." He took her hand and touched it lightly to his lips as though she were a grand duchess instead of-supposedly-a common gambler.
Yvette did not know quite what to make of this earnest young man-but she did know that she had an appointment to meet her brother very shortly back in his hotel room. She could not afford to stand here and allow herself to be charmed by this handsome stranger. Reluctantly she moved away and said, "It has been pleasant meeting you, even under these awkward .circumstances. But right now I really must go and meet my brother. He gets very angry when I keep him waiting."As would I, gospozha, as would I.
What man could bear the thought of your not being there? I let you go with the greatest of regret and the greatest wish for your happiness. Until we meet again, if we ever do."
And again, he swept his arm in another grand gesture.
Yvette left the casino, a very bemused woman indeed.
Chapter 5
The Disappearance of Jaroslav and Yarmilla "It's a good thing we weren't born needing money," Yvette commented. "With our skills, we could have been the scourges of the spaceways."
She stood with her hands on her hips in front of the loot they had collected on their burglaries over the past ten days. It had been arranged neatly into two stacks, with jewelry on one side and art objects on the other, and stored in the food locker in an abandoned meatpacking plant. They had not attempted to dispose of it in any way; once their assignment was over, the police would be informed of its whereabouts and it would be redistributed among its owners. But in the meantime, it was as safe here as anywhere.
"Yes, but all good things must come to an end, to coin a phrase," her brother said. "Our criminal career is about to be behind us. It's time to move on to the real job."
"C'est vrai. It'll be nice to be able to look at myself respectfully in the mirror again."
Jules went outside to a public vidicom booth and dialed the number for the main Avila police station. "Hello," he said in a growly voice that was not remotely like his own, "I've got some information about those two cat burglars."
"If you'll hold on just a minute, gospodin," said a female voice, "I'll connect you with the detectives in charge of that investigation."
"No!" Jules croaked vehemently. "I'll tell you, now, or I don't talk to anyone." The girl at the other end of the line was clever; if she could have persuaded him to hold the line open, the call would be traced back to this number. Jules wanted his call to be completely anonymous.
"Very well, gospodin, I'll take the message." The woman would be signaling someone in her department to trace the call anyway, but Jules didn't care about that. By the time they could even get started, he would be finished.
"Look for a man and a woman named Jaroslav and Yarmilla Dubcek. They're brother and sister, I believe, and they're staying at ,the Androvoy Hotel." Without further ado he cut off the line. Let them try to trace that, he thought smugly.
The d'Alemberts could have predicted quite accurately the events that would transpire next. Within fifteen minutes, several squads of police would converge on the Androvoy Hotel. They would indeed find that Jaroslav and Yarmilla Dubcek were registered in ad- joining rooms on the second floor, and that they were frequently out to all hours of the night. Proceeding up to the rooms, they would discover that the suspects were nowhere around, but there would be plenty of equipment-ropes, grippers, wire cutters, electrical apparatus-to indicate that the Dubceks were indeed the cat burglars. No trace would be found of the loot they had taken-nor would there be any clear fingerprints to use as identification. The two agents had been very careful on that point, because they wanted to leave no permanent traces of themselves here.
With that much to go on, the police search would begin in earnest. Hotel staff and guests would be questioned for any information they could give concerning the two strangers. In a relatively short time a description of the fugitive pair would be flashed to police stations all over the planet, and from there the information would be disseminated to individual officers. Within two or three hours, the d'Alemberts, alias Dubceks, would be the two most wanted people on the entire planet.
This, they knew, was the chanciest part of their entire plan. They had to count on the contacts they had made to help them reach the agents for the conspiracy. Cordoba had been chosen specifically because more criminals had vanished from here than from any other world-but that did not mean lightning would strike again. The conspiracy normally took native criminals with long past histories; the d'Alemberts were hoping that their recent record was spectacular enough to make them worthy prospects.
If they could not get in touch with the conspiracy, they'd find themselves in serious trouble. They would be the subjects of a massive manhunt, the likes of which this planet had never before seen. All ships taking off, including. their own, would be thoroughly searched. Just giving back what they'd stolen would not be any excuse for having taken it in the first place, and the hunt for them would continue. Should they be caught, they dared not break their covers and reveal their true identities-it would nullify their future usefulness to the Service. They'd be forced to serve their time in prison like any other criminals.
The plan would just have to succeed. They had no other option.
They waited for about three hours, so that news about the Dubceks would begin filtering down through the ranks of the underworld. Then, when they were certain people would know about their plight, they began calling their respective contacts, pleading for help.
"The offs are closing in," they would say when they reached one of their newfound friends. "I need somewhere to hide, fast. Can you help me?"
The reply, if there was one, was usually a quick no; most of the time, the connection was simply broken with no response at all. You sure learn in a hurry who your friends are, Yvette thought after her sixth call had ended in a discouragingly negative response.
Finally, Jules hit paydirt. The man at the other end of the line was silent for a minute, then said in slow, careful tones, "There might be a way. I've heard of some people who specialize in that sort of thing. What's it worth to you to find out?"
"Five thousand rubles."
"Make it ten." The guy at the other end knew he had the upper hand, and was prepared to make the most of it.
Jules pretended to hesitate and consider. "Khorosho, you've got a deal. How quickly can you find out for me?"
"It might take an hour or two.
Do you have a number where I can reach you?"
Jules gave a bitter laugh. "No, circumstances compel me to remain mobile at this time.
Why don't I call you back at this number in, say, three hours? Will that do?"
"Smooth." The man clicked off, and Jules went to inform his sister that their all-important connection was on the verge of being made.
That left them only with the problem of how to spend the intervening time without getting caught. Retreating to public 'freshers, each of them put on a wig and enough makeup to disguise their faces from recognition on casual scrutiny. Then they went to a local amusement park, taking advantage of the crowds to hide themselves and have a few moments of relaxation before they had to return to work. The thrilling rides, the cries of the barkers and the smells of concession-stand food reminded them very much of the midway of their own beloved Circus. Every so often, one or the other of them would stop dead and let the atmosphere of the place wash over him. The other would stand patiently by and wait until the rapture had passed, and then the two would move on without a word being spoken. Each knew what the other felt. The Circus had been their entire life for more than twenty-five years; even their loyalty and duty to the Empire could not fill the emotional void that leaving the Circus had imparted.
At last their time at the park drew to a close. The respite was a brief one, and now they would have to go back to the dancers of their work. Even as they walked toward the front gate, Yvette reached over and squeezed Jules's hand abruptly, whispering a single word: "Rube."
The abbreviated version of the old circus battle cry "Hey Rube!" brought Jules instantly to attention, though outwardly he continued to appear relaxed. Glancing casually in the direction his sister's eyes indicated, he saw a policeman in uniform walking slowly toward them. The man did not have a weapon drawn and seemed slightly hesitant, which was a positive sign. He had probably been told to look for anyone with a build that indicated high gravity origins. Even though the d'Alemberts had deliberately worn loose-fitting cloth- ing and had changed their faces slightly, they were still close enough to the description of the wanted burglars to arouse suspicion in this officer. He was coming over to check them out more closely-something they could not afford at this stage of the game.
"I copy," Jules whispered back. "We split, no panic unless called for. Rendezvous Site B."
"Smooth."
Quite casually, the two began to drift apart, each walking perpendicular to the other's path until they were separated by more than thirty meters. At this point, the policeman realized what they were doing and his suspicions doubled. Without a partner to help him, he decided to go after Jules and leave Yvette alone. He began walking faster. Jules, noticing this, also began walking faster, so that the gap between himself and the officer remained constant. Every time the policeman increased his pace slightly, Jules did likewise.
Finally the policeman tired of this game. "Wait up, you!" he called out to Jules. "I'd like to talk to you." Obligingly, Jules halted. He turned to face the officer, his face a mask of utter innocence. Then, after putting the policeman momentarily off his guard, he made his move. From a dead stop, he suddenly raced off toward a group of sheds at a speed that left the officer sputtering with amazement. It took a full two seconds for that worthy to even think about drawing his stungun, by which time Jules was well out of range. The innocent bystanders wandering through the scene would have made random shooting hazardous in any event. There was nothing the policeman could do except try to run after his suspect.
