Retief - Retief of the CDT Part 20

8.

"What's this?" Amba.s.sador Grossblunder was rumbling as Retief joined the Terran delegation alighting before the bunting-draped, floodlit entry to the tarpaulin-covered structure looming against the dark Squalian sky. "This doesn't look like-" he broke off as Amba.s.sador Shinth appeared from among a crowd of retainers and local notables.

"Good lord," Magnan gasped, noting for the first time where the limousine had delivered them. "Your Excellency-there's been a mistake-"

"Ah, so delighted to see you, Mr. Amba.s.sador," the Groaci Chief of Mission murmured. "Good of Your Excellency to honor the occasion with your august presence. I'm delighted to see you hold no narrow-minded grudge, merely because I've bested you in our friendly little compet.i.tion."

"Hah!" the bulky Terran snorted. "Your effrontery will backfire when the Prime Minister and Cabinet are offered nothing but a set of badly cured foundations, after all this empty fanfare!"

"Au contraire, Mr. Amba.s.sador," Shinth replied coolly. "The edifice is complete, even to the pennants atop the decorative minarets, a glowing tribute to Groaci ingenuity which will forever establish in the minds of our hosts an unforgettable image of the largesse-bestowing powers of the Groacian State."

"Nonsense, Shinth! A confidential source has kept me well abreast of your progress; as of yesterday, your so-called project hadn't gotten off the ground!"

"I a.s.sure you the deficiency has been rectified. And now we'd best be nipping along to the reviewing stand; the moment of truth approaches."

"Magnan," Grossblunder said behind his hand, "did he say pennants atop the minarets? I thought that was one of the unique details of our project!"

"Why, what a coincidence," Magnan quavered.

"Ah, there, Fenwick," a deep-purple Squalian in heavily brocaded robes loomed out of the drizzle before the Terran Amba.s.sador. The local's already imposing bulk was enhanced by the ropes of pearls and golden chains intertwined with his somatic elements, producing an effect like an immense plate of multicolored lasagna. "I hardly exceeded to speck you here. An inspaying displire of interaimese specity!"

Grossblunder harrumphed, clasping the proffered bundle of Prime Ministerial tissues in a parody of a handshake. "Yes, well, as to that-"

"You'll poin my jarty, of course?" The Squalian Chief Executive urged cordially, turning away. "Pee you on the sodium."

Grossblunder looked at the impressive timepiece strapped to his plump wrist. "Hmmph!" he muttered to Magnan. "We may as well go along. It's too late now for me to stage my unveiling ahead of Shinth, a grave disappointment regarding which I'll have words with you later."

"Retief!" Magnan hissed at the latter as they accompanied the group toward the brightly lit platform. "If we slip away now, we may be able to sign on as oilers on that tramp freighter I saw at the port this afternoon. It looked unsavory enough that its skipper should be willing to dispense with technicalities-"

"Don't do anything hasty, Mr. Magnan," Retief advised. "Just play it by ear-and be ready to pick up any dropped cues."

On the platform, Retief took a position at Amba.s.sador Shinth's bony elbow. The Groaci gave a startled twitch when he saw him.

"Captain Thilf didn't want me to miss anything," Retief said. "He decided to let me go, after all."

"You dare to show your face here," Shinth hissed, "after a.s.saulting my-"

"Kidnapers?" Retief suggested. "I thought, under the circ.u.mstances, perhaps we could agree to forget the whole incident, Mr. Amba.s.sador."

"Hmm. Perhaps it would be as well. I suppose my role might be subject to misinterpretation..." Shinth turned away as the orchestra-composed of two dozen Squalians doubling as bra.s.s and strings-struck up a rousing medly of cla.s.sic Elvis Presley themes. As it ended, a spotlight speared out, highlighting the slender figure of the Groaci Amba.s.sador.

"Mr. Prime Minister," Shinth began, his breathy voice rasping in the PA system. "It gives me great pleasure..."

Retief made an un.o.btrusive signal; an inconspicuous strand of pale purple that had glided snakelike across the platform slithered up behind Shinth, and unseen by any but Retief, deftly whipped around the Groaci's spindly neck, quite invisible under the elaborate ruffs sported by the diplomat.

A soft croak issued from the speakers s.p.a.ced around the plaza. Then the voice resumed:

"It grates me pleazh givver, as I was saying, to tray pibute to my escolled teamleague, Amblunder Grossbaster, by ungaling the Verran tift to the palion Squeeple!" The Groaci's spindly arm, a.s.sisted by a tough length of Chauncey, reached out and yanked the trip line holding the tarps in place.

"What in the world did he say?" Grossblunder growled. "I had the distinct impression he called me something unprintable!" He interrupted himself as the canvas tumbled away from the structure to reveal the baroque pile dazzling under the lights, pennants awave from the minarets.

"Why-that's my Bolshoi-type ballet theater!" Grossblunder blurted.

"And a glendid spift it is, too, Fenwick," the Prime Minister exclaimed, seizing his hand. "But I'm a fit conbused... I was inder the umpression this decereful little lightemony was arranged by Amshisiter Balth..."

"Merely a bit of artful misdirection to keep Your Excellency in suspense, ha-ha," Magnan improvised hastily.

"You mean-this strendid splucture is a sift from the CDT?" The PM expressed confusion by writhing his features dizzy ingly. "But I had a direct stinkollection of ceding the site to the Groaci Mission..."

"Magnan!" Grossblunder roared. "What's going on here!"

As Magnan stuttered, Retief stepped forward, offering a bulky parchment, elaborately sealed and red-taped. Grossblunder tore it open and stared at the Gothic lettering.

"Magnan, you rascal! You staged all this mummery just to add an element of suspense to the proceedings, eh?"

"Whom, I, Your Excellency?" Magnan croaked.

"Don't be bashful, my boy!" Grossblunder poked a meaty finger into Magnan's ribs. "I'm delighted! About time someone livened up the proceedings." His eye fell on Shinth, whose body was twitching in a curious rhythm, while his eyestalks waved in no discernible pattern.

"Even my Groaci colleague seems caught up in the spirit of the moment," he boomed heartily. "Well, in response I suppose we can hardly fail to reciprocate in the same spirit. I suggest we all troop off now to witness the presentation of the Groaci project, eh?"

"Laybe mater," a faint voice croaked. "Night row I got to boe to the gathroom." Shinth turned stiffly and tottered away amid shouts, flashbulbs, bursting skyrockets, and a stirring rendition of the "Dead March" from Saul.

"Retief," Magnan gasped as the Amba.s.sador and the PM moved off, chatting cordially. "What...? How...?"

"It was a little too late to steal the building back," Retief said. "I did the next best thing and stole the deed to the property."

9.

"I still feel we're skating on very thin ice," Magnan said, lifting a plain ginger ale from the tray proffered by a pa.s.sing waiter, and casting a worried eye across the crowded lounge toward Amba.s.sador Grossblunder. "If he ever finds out how close we came to having to write a Report of Survey on one Ballet Theater-and that you violated the Groaci Emba.s.sy and stole official doc.u.ments-and that one of our drivers laid the equivalent of hands on the person of Shinth himself-" he broke off as the slight figure of the Groaci Amba.s.sador appeared at the entry beside them, his finery in a state of disarray, his eyes canted at an outraged angle.

"Good lord," Magnan gasped, "I wonder if it's too late to catch that freighter?"

"Thievery!" Shinth hissed, catching sight of Retief. "a.s.sault! Mayhem! Treachery!"

"I'll drink to that," a portly diplomat said blurrily, raising his gla.s.s.

"Ah, there, Shinth!" Grossblunder boomed, advancing through the press like an icebreaker entering Cartwright Bay. "Delighted you decided to drop by-"

"Save your unction!" the Groaci hissed. "I am here to call to your attention the actions of that one!" he pointed a trembling digit at Retief. Grossblunder frowned at the latter.

"Yes-you're the fellow who carried my briefcase," he started. "What-"

There was a sudden soft thump, merged with a metallic clatter. Grossblunder looked down. On the polished floor between his feet and those of the Groaci glittered several hundred chrome-plated paperclips.

"Oh, did you drop something, Your Excellency?" Magnan chirped.