Lurulu by Jack Vance Page A

at him a trifle askance. “Are the Civil Agents concerned in this matter?”
    “Absolutely not! It is the IPCC which has become interested in Loy Tremaine and the rather haughty old lady with whom he is travelling. There is no wish to involve the Civil Agents.”
    “Ah well!” said the yardmaster. “That puts a new face on the matter. For your information, then, Tarquin Transit has never, within the span of my employment, rented to a couple such as that which you have described. For the most part we serve groups of three or four tourists, often with children.” He consulted his listings but was only confirmed in his statements.
    Maloof and Myron went on to the Zangwill Agency, situated on a side street at the back of the O-Shar-Shan hotel. The proprietor, Urban Zangwill, unlike the Tarquin yardmaster, showed no inclination whatever to cooperate and responded to Maloof’s initial inquiry with disdain. “I have an enviable reputation for discretion! Am I likely to risk this priceless asset at the behest of a pair of off-worlders?”
    As Serle had predicted, Zangwill became cooperative as soon as the IPCC was mentioned. Grudgingly he looked into his ledger and presently announced that the Maijaro , a luxury vessel of excellent characteristics, had been let on a long-term basis to a distinguished gentleman named Loy Tremaine and his ailing mother, who displayed a testy temperament. Zangwill brought out plans which depicted a fine vessel forty-eight feet long with a fifteen foot beam. The plans showed a forward pilot station, a large main saloon, a galley with a pantry, two staterooms each with a bath, a forward deck six feet wide and a similar afterdeck.
    “And where is the Maijaro anchored?” Maloof asked.
    Zangwill took them into his inner office. A table supported a large-scale map of Fluter embossed on a surface of matte black glass, with pale tinted continents in relief and the waterways flat, spangled here and there by white sparks. In a voice without accent, as if detaching himself from all association with Maloof and Myron, Zangwill said: “The sparks represent Agency houseboats. There are fifty-one vessels, of four classes.”
    “And which is the Maijaro ?”
    Still impassive, Zangwill looked into a ledger, then touched buttons on a panel beside the map. One of the white sparks became a bright green glitter. “That is the Maijaro . It is anchored on the Suametta river, to the west of the second continent.” Maloof studied the map with care and noted the geographical coordinates which defined the exact position of the Maijaro .
    Zangwill spoke, still in the same uninterested voice: “This is an especially fine anchorage: the scenery is beautiful; there is adequate privacy and supplies are available at a village a few miles upstream.”
    “The information is important,” said Maloof. “You should know that Tremaine is a criminal. I tell you this so that you will feel no compulsion to warn him of our interest, by any means whatever. If you do so, you become an accessory to his crimes, which are serious, and you will incur the same penalties that will be visited upon Tremaine. The IPCC penitential colonies are cold, wet, miserable and long-term. The food is bad. Your fellow prisoners are vicious. Are these facts well understood?”
    Zangwill grimaced. “You have made them clear. You should realize that the Agency operates in total accord with the law.”
    “Good,” said Maloof. “We are reassured.”
    4
    Maloof and Myron returned to the IPCC office. Serle looked up from his work in surprise. “You are back earlier than I had expected. Is this a positive sign?”
    Maloof assented. “Our affairs seem to be moving forward.” He described the events of the morning. “Zangwill was cooperative, but he would seem a man of flexible principles. For this reason I warned him that he would incur severe punishment if he should communicate with Orlo Cavke — Loy Tremaine, as he knows him.”
    “Good,” said