Heist Job on Thizar

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  HEIST JOB ON THIZAR

  By RANDALL GARRETT

  _In the future, we may discover new planets; our ships may rocket to new worlds; robots may be smarter than people. But we'll still have slick characters willing and able to turn a fast buck--even though they have to be smarter than Einstein to do it._

  Anson Drake sat quietly in the Flamebird Room of the Royal GandyllHotel, listening to the alien, but soothing strains of the nativeorchestra and sipping a drink. He knew perfectly well that he had nobusiness displaying himself in public on the planet Thizar; there wereinfluential Thizarians who held no love for a certain Earthman namedAnson Drake.

  It didn't particularly bother Drake; life was danger and danger was lifeto him, and Anson Drake was known on half a hundred planets as a man whocould take care of himself.

  Even so, he wouldn't have bothered to come if it had not been for thefact that Viron Belgezad was a pompous braggart.

  Belgezad had already suffered at the hands of Anson Drake. Some yearsbefore, a narcotics gang had been smashed high, wide, and handsome onThizar. Three men had died from an overdose of their own thionite drug,and fifty thousand credits of illicit gain had vanished into nowhere.The Thizarian police didn't know who had done the job, and they didn'tknow who had financed the ring.

  But Belgezad knew that Anson Drake was the former, and Drake knew thatViron Belgezad was the latter. And each one was waiting his chance toget the other.

  A week before, Drake had been relaxing happily on a beach on Seladon II,twelve light-years from Thizar, reading a newsfax. He had becomeinterested in an article which told of the sentencing of a certain ladyto seven years in Seladon Prison, when his attention was attracted byanother headline.

  VIRON BELGEZAD BUYS ALGOL NECKLACE

  Thizar (GNS)--Viron Belgezad, wealthy Thizarian financier, has purchased the fabulous Necklace of Algol, it was announced today. The necklace, made of matched Star Diamonds, is estimated to be worth more than a million credits, although the price paid by Belgezad is not known.

  The coronation on Thizar was a thing of vastmagnificence.]

  Such an interesting bit seemed worthy of further investigation, so Drakehad immediately booked passage on the first space liner to Thizar.

  And thus it was that an immaculately dressed, broad-shouldered, handsomeyoung man sat quietly in the Flamebird Room of Thizar's flushiesthostelry surveying his surroundings with steady green eyes and wonderinghow he was going to get his hands on the Necklace of Algol.

  The police couldn't touch Belgezad, but Anson Drake could--and would.

  "Hello, Drake," said a cold voice at his elbow.

  Drake turned and looked up into the sardonically smiling face of JomisDobigel, the heavy-set, dark-faced Thizarian who worked with Belgezad.

  "Well, well," Anson said, smiling, "if it isn't Little Bo-Peep. How isthe dope business? And how is the Big Dope Himself?"

  Dobigel's smile soured. "You're very funny, Earthman. But we don't likeEarthmen here."

  "Do sit down, Dobbie, and tell me all about it. The last I heard--whichwas three hours ago--the government of Thizar was perfectly happy tohave me here. In fact, they were good enough to stamp my passport toprove it."

  * * * * *

  Dobigel pulled out a chair and sat down, keeping his hands beneath thetable. "What are you doing here, Drake?" he asked in a cold voice.

  "I couldn't help it," Drake said blandly. "I was drawn back by thememory of the natural beauties of your planet. The very thought of thefat, flabby face of old Belgezad, decorated with a bulbous nose that isrenowned throughout the Galaxy, was irresistible. So here I am."

  Dobigel's dark face grew even darker. "I know you, Drake. And I know whyyou're here. Tomorrow is the date for the Coronation of His Serenity,the Shan of Thizar."

  "True," Drake agreed. "And I wouldn't miss it for all the loot inAndromeda. A celebration like that is worth traveling parsecs to see."

  Dobigel leaned across the table. "Belgezad is a Noble of the Realm," hesaid slowly. "He'll be at the Coronation. You know he's going to wearthe Necklace of Algol as well as anyone, and you--"

  Suddenly, he leaned forward a little farther, his right hand stabbingout toward Drake's leg beneath the table.

  But Anson Drake was ready for him. Dobigel's hand was a full threeinches from Drake's thigh when a set of fingers grasped his wrist in aviselike hold. Steely fingers bit in, pressing nerves against bone. Witha gasp, Dobigel opened his hand. A small, metallic cylinder dropped out.

  Drake caught it with his free hand and smiled. "That's impolite, Dobbie.It isn't proper to try to give your host an injection when he doesn'twant it."

  Casually, he put the cylinder against the arm which he still held andsqueezed the little metal tube. There was a faint _pop!_ Drake releasedthe arm and handed back the cylinder. Dobigel's face was white.

  "I imagine that was twelve-hour poison," Drake said kindly. "If youhurry, old Belgezad will give you the antidote. It will be painful,but--" He shrugged.

  "And by the way, Brother Dobigel," he continued, "let me give you someadvice. The next time you try to get near a victim with one of thosethings, don't do it by talking to him about things he already knows. Itdoesn't distract him enough."

  Dobigel stood up, his fists clenched. "I'll get you for this, Drake."Then he turned and stalked off through the crowd.

  * * * * *

  No one had noticed the little by-play. Drake smiled seraphically andfinished his drink. Dobigel was going to be uncomfortable for a while.Twelve-hour poison was a complex protein substance that could be variedin several thousand different ways, and only an antidote made from theright variation would work for each poison. If the antidote wasn'tgiven, the victim died within twelve hours. And even if the antidote wasgiven, getting over poison wasn't any fun at all.

  Reflecting happily on the plight of Jomis Dobigel, Anson Drake paid hisbill, tipped the waiter liberally, and strolled out of the FlamebirdRoom and into the lobby of the Royal Gandyll Hotel. The Coronation wouldbegin early tomorrow, and he didn't want to miss the beginning of it.The Shan's Coronation was _the_ affair of Thizar.

  * * * * *

  He went over to the robot newsvender and dropped a coin in the slot. Thereproducer hummed, and a freshly-printed newsfax dropped out.

  He headed for the lift tube, which whisked him up to his room on theeighty-first floor. He inserted his key in the lock and pressed thebutton on the tip. The electronic lock opened, and the door slid intothe wall. Before entering, Drake took a look at the detector on hiswrist. There was no sign of anything having entered the room since hehad left it. Only then did he go inside.

  With one of the most powerful financiers on Thizar out after his blood,there was no way of knowing what might happen, and therefore no reasonto take chances.

  There were some worlds where Anson Drake would no more have stayed in apublic hotel than he would have jumped into an atomic furnace,especially if his enemy was a man as influential as Belgezad. But Thizarwas a civilized and reasonably well policed planet; the police werehonest and the courts were just. Even Belgezad couldn't do anythingopenly.

  Drake locked his door, sang to himself in a pleasant baritone while hebathed, put on his pajamas, and lay down on his bed to read the paper.

  * * * * *

  It was mostly full of Coronation news. Noble So-and-So would wearsuch-and-such, the Archbishop would do thus-and-so. There was anotheritem about Belgezad; his daughter was ill and would be unable to attend._Bloody shame_, though
t Drake. _Too bad Belgezad isn't sick--or dying._

  There was further mention of the Necklace of Algol; it was second onlyto the Crown Jewels of the Shan himself. The precautions being takenwere fantastic; at a quick guess, about half the crowd would bepolicemen.

  The door announcer chimed. Drake sat up and punched the door TV. Thescreen showed the face of a girl standing at his door. Drake smiled inappreciation. She had dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a smooth, tannedcomplexion. It was a beautiful face, and it showed promise of having abody to match.

  "Who, may I ask, is calling on a gentleman at this ungodly hour, andthus compromising her reputation and fair name?"

  The girl smiled, showing even, white teeth, and her eyes sparkled,showing flickers of little golden flames against the brown. "I see I'vefound the right room," she said. "That