Tangle Hold Page 2
"I'm not sure. I've been in the hospital until this morning. I think Ineed a checkup."
"I called while you were gone," said Burlingame. "I know about thehospital; however, I don't think my work will be strenuous. Perhapsyou'd come over and we'll discuss it."
"I'll take the chance I can help you."
"Good." Vicon Burlingame gave him the address before fading out of thescreen.
Jadiver dressed slowly. Weak, but better than he expected. Physically,his recovery was far advanced. It wasn't he who was taking a chance, ofcourse; it was Burlingame. Jadiver had warned him and if Burlingame waswilling to risk it, that was up to him.
Before he left, Jadiver checked his office. A few calls in the lastweek, but nothing important. It was a routine check and he gave therobot routine instructions.
A tiny thing, that office, located on the ground floor of a buildingfronting a principal thoroughfare. A space large enough for a client tosit down, if one should come, which wasn't often. Behind the desk wasthe upper half of a robot. Tiny though the office was, it was notinexpensive, and the business that passed through it was barely enoughto pay the rent.
There were other advantages in maintaining it, though. As long as he hada business address, he was spared certain legal embarrassments.
* * * * *
Five minutes later, he was greeted by Vicon Burlingame. "Come in."Jadiver did so.
Burlingame silently studied Jadiver closely. "Maybe you're tired," hesaid at last. "A little sun would relax you."
"It might," agreed Jadiver. "This cloudy Venus."
"It's not so bad when you're home," said Burlingame. "But public placesare bad for ultraviolet." He indicated the next room. "The lamp is inthere."
Jadiver went in and began to remove his clothing. Before he finished,a little man came in, nodding silently at Jadiver. Without comment,Jadiver stood in front of the machine. While the little man methodicallyexamined him, his clothing disappeared.
The little man looked up at the end of the intensive investigation."You'll do," he said.
"Clear?" asked Jadiver.
"Clear as the atmosphere of the Moon. We were afraid they'd planted youwhile you were in the hospital, but we decided to take the chance."
For the first time since the accident, Jadiver felt relaxed. "Thanks,Cobber. I was hoping to contact someone to check it for me."
Cobber shrugged. "Who can you trust? If you go to a doctor good enoughto find a gadget that small, what is he? A high-powered professional andhe's got his problems. He sees something inside and smiles and saysyou're fine and charges you a fat fee. Even if he tells you that you'vebeen planted, there's nothing you can do. No one's going to cut itout--not while the police can hear everything through it."
"Thanks for taking the chance."
Burlingame came in smiling confidently. "Now we can talk," he said.Behind him were three other men Jadiver had never seen.
"Where are my clothes?" Jadiver wanted to know.
"They'll be ready," promised Burlingame. "The police have got all kindsof cute tricks, only we don't fall for them. We're systematic."
They were that, decided Jadiver, and something more. They had to be tosurvive so long. Burlingame was good.
A gamin's face peered through the doorway and one hand thrust hisclothing into the room and waved it. "Here. They didn't try to concealanything." She sounded disappointed.
Jadiver dressed as Burlingame relayed the clothing to him. The gaminwrinkled her nose and disappeared. By the time Jadiver was completelydressed, she came back with refreshments.
They sat down at the table. "I want faces," said Burlingame, across fromhim--"five faces."
Jadiver looked around. There were six. "None of my business, except in aprofessional way, but who do I leave out?"
"Cobber. We have other plans for him."
It wasn't a good idea to pry. He had to know the human material on whichhe was expected to work, but it was safer not to know what they wereplanning.
He tapped his glass. "What kind of faces? Soft faces, hard faces, spacefaces? And do you want anything else?"
"Society faces," said Burlingame. "Emily wants to wear a low-cut gown.The rest of us just need faces."
"Real low," the gamin insisted, wriggling.
"Society," mused Jadiver. "I always did think it was better to rob therich ... like Robin Hood."
"Sure," Burlingame said.
Jadiver tilted the glass. "Especially since the poor don't have muchmoney."
"That has something to do with it," Burlingame cheerfully agreed.
Cobber broke in. He was a little gnarled man, older than the others. "Apoint, Jadiver. The poor don't have much money, but there's so many moreof them. You can actually be more successful robbing them. But you haveto keep at it every day in the year, and then you don't call it robbery;you say you're governing them."
"Don't have that kind of stamina," said Burlingame.
"A good point, Cobber." Jadiver leaned on the table. "I don't wantspecific information, but how can you make robbery pay off these days?"
* * * * *
Burlingame looked at him astutely. "Considering it yourself?"
Jadiver shook his head. "Intellectual curiosity. I'm doing all right inmy own line."
"It's a theory," said Burlingame. "You can't touch banks or financialinstitutions. Too many electronic safeguards, robots, and what have you.In order to get past that kind of equipment, you have to be a top-notchscientist--and one that can do better at a top-notch job.
"Now, who's got money? The rich, and they _want_ to show it off whereverthey go. Naturally they take precautions, too, but people are alwaysinvolved and that's the weakness. You can build a machine that does onething perfectly, but people make mistakes--they get rattled. Teamworkcan take advantage of it. A feint here, and a block there, and beforeanyone knows what's happening, we're through their defenses. With, ofcourse, their money."
Jadiver looked at him, at his handsome, ruddy, respectable face. "Youplayed football?"
Burlingame grinned. "Twenty-five years ago."
"It's changed. You wouldn't recognize it now."
"Perhaps not. But the principle is still the same, and it's theprinciple that pays off."
Jadiver stood up. "I'd better get started. Where do I work?"
"Here," said Burlingame. "We have the tools ready for you."
"Mind if I look at the setup?"
"Go ahead."
The gamin bounced up and took charge of Jadiver, leading him to a smallworkshop screened off in a corner of one of the larger rooms. The layoutwas authentic enough to justify the equipment--a few robot forms in therough state, handbooks on design, several robot heads in various stagesof completion, and an assortment of the specialized tools of the trade.It was standard for the tinkerer, for the would-be designer of robotbodies. Burlingame always covered himself in every detail.
Jadiver inspected it thoroughly, the gamin standing impatiently at hisside.
"I'm first when you're ready," she said.
He eyed her amusedly. "What's the hurry?"
"There's more to do on me and you'll do your best work when you're nottired."
"I'll start soon. Let me see the plastic."
She opened a cabinet and there it was. Jadiver squatted and read theinstructions on the containers. He shook his head in despair. Everyamateur always did this.
He stood up. "You've got the worst kind," he said.
She shrugged. "They told me it was the best."
"That depends. There are two kinds, and this one does look more realthan the other. In fact, for a time this actually becomes a part of yourbody, a pseudo-flesh. But it's quite dangerous."
"The other kind is just a cosmetic, isn't it?"
"That's right, but--"
"Then I'm not worried," she said, tossing her head. "The way I see it,it's dangerous not to use the best disguise we can get."
She might be right. At least he'd warned her, and as long as she had thefacts straight, the decision was hers to make.
Jadiver peeled off his jacket and slid into a protective smock. "AskBurlingame to come in. This is going to be delicate, you know."
The gamin grinned. "I've never been overly concerned about Vicon, and heknows I can take care of myself." She stepped behind a screen andpresently came