New Celebrations: The Adventures of Anthony Villiers by Alexei Panshin Page B

the door and locked it. Phibbs had his duties to perform. The ship that had arrived from Morian was due to leave for Luvashe and Phibbs had to check those departing at the landing port. Adams turned to face Augustus Srb, who was sitting calmly in a great chair smoking a pipe.
    “I didn’t think he’d know anything, sir. He doesn’t seem to be a very bright man.”
    “No.”
    “I don’t think we’d even have to investigate if we had a more intelligent man representing the Empire here in Star Well.”
    Srb puffed reflectively. “Is this your first investigation? This is, isn’t it?”
    “Yes, sir.” Adams suddenly choked and began to wave the smoke away.
    “Oh, I’m sorry. Is it bothering you?”
    “Yes, sir. I didn’t want to say anything before. I thought you were trying to bother Phibbs. But it makes my eyebrows feel as though they were crawling up my forehead, and my ears tingle.”
    “I’ll put it out,” Srb said. “I sometimes forget that not everybody shares my vices.” He covered the mouth of the pipe with the palm of his hand. “The air will be clear in a few minutes. You must realize, Lieutenant, that we would have very few investigations indeed if we had more intelligent men representing the Empire. We have to make do with Phibbses because common jobs in unattractive places are ill-paid and consequently no one but old fools will take them. Then, when things go wrong, it’s up to people like you and me to straighten them out.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Did they tell you why you were being sent here?”
    “They said I was to be your legs, sir.”
    “I suppose you might say that. And my eyes, and my ears. And whatever else I need you for. I will sit, and you will run. But do you know why we are here?” Srb took his palm away from the mouth of the pipe and looked to see that it was out. He puffed on it to be sure, carefully separated the burnt ash from the unsmoked residue with a pipe tool, then knocked the residue into his smoking pouch. “I hate to see waste,” he said, looking up.
    Adams said, “They told me that there had been a number of investigations here in the past few years.”
    “Yes. Accidents, duels, one mysterious disappearance. However, the stories given have been good enough to pass investigation. The trouble is that there have been too many things here that required checking by the Navy. Besides this, around the borders of the Rift there has been an increase in several illegal traffics during the past few years, thumb running in particular. On general principles, Star Well is going to be given a close look by you and me, and since we are going to do it quietly we are the more likely to find anything there is to be found.”
    “If there is anything.”
    “If there is anything.”
    “While I was waiting for you, sir, I poked around a bit. I didn’t know what I was supposed to be looking for.”
    “Did you find anything?”
    “No, sir. And Mr. Villiers followed me. He’s the one I pointed out this afternoon.”
    “You know for a fact that he followed you?”
    “Oh, yes, sir. He even said that he did. I think I like him—he’s very polite—but I don’t know what to make of him. He confuses me.”
    “I think I can understand that,” Srb said dryly. “We may have to take our investigations elsewhere if it is clear that they know we are looking them over. For now, let’s avoid being seen together and I’ll find out what I can about your Mr. Villiers.”
    * * *
    The Orion , with her new complement of passengers stuffed in their tiny cabins, with a fuddled third officer who was not even aware that there had been a layover, with a passenger lounge in which three were discussing Systematic Anarchy and another four were talking yachts (one maintaining that the day of two-man yacht racing was dead because the costs of owning and keeping small spaceships were prohibitive), but without Anthony Villiers aboard, left Star Well bound for Luvashe some eight hours and twenty-two