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diff --git a/27089-h/27089-h.htm b/27089-h/27089-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7e1e21c --- /dev/null +++ b/27089-h/27089-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2772 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Risk Profession, by Donald E. Westlake + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + h1,h2,.p1 {text-align: center; clear: both;} + h2 {margin-bottom: 2em;} + hr {width: 45%; margin: 1em auto; clear: both; visibility: hidden;} + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .figcenter {margin: 1em auto; width: 500px;} + .trn {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; padding: 1em; text-align: justify;} + img {border: none;} + p.cap:first-letter {float: left; margin-right: .05em; padding-top: .05em; font-size: 300%; line-height: .8em;} + .dcap {text-transform: uppercase;} + .bk1 {background: url("images/001.png") top left no-repeat; width: 600px; height: 407px; margin: 0 auto; overflow: hidden;} + .bk2 {padding-top: 200px; padding-left: 315px; text-align: justify;} + .bk3 {width: 600px; margin: 0 auto; text-align: left;} + .p1 {margin-top: 2em;} +// --> +/* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Risk Profession, by Donald Edwin Westlake + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Risk Profession + +Author: Donald Edwin Westlake + +Illustrator: Ivie + +Release Date: October 29, 2008 [EBook #27089] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RISK PROFESSION *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="bk1"><div class="bk2"><i><big><b>The men who did dangerous work had a special kind of insurance +policy. But when somebody wanted to collect on that policy, the +claims investigator suddenly became a member of ...</b></big></i></div></div> + +<div class="bk3"><small><b>Illustrated by IVIE</b></small></div> + +<h1><big>The RISK PROFESSION</big></h1> + +<h2><small>By DONALD E. WESTLAKE</small></h2> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Mister Henderson</span> called +me into his office my third +day back in Tangiers. That +was a day and a half later than +I'd expected. Roving claims investigators +for Tangiers Mutual +Insurance Corporation don't usually +get to spend more than +thirty-six consecutive hours at +home base.</p> + +<p>Henderson was jovial but +stern. That meant he was happy +with the job I'd just completed, +and that he was pretty sure I'd +find some crooked shenanigans +on this next assignment. That +didn't please me. I'm basically a +plain-living type, and I hate +complications. I almost wished +for a second there that I was +back on Fire and Theft in Greater +New York. But I knew better +than that. As a roving claim investigator, +I avoided the more +stultifying paper work inherent +in this line of work and had the +additional luxury of an expense +account nobody ever questioned.</p> + +<p>It made working for a living +almost worthwhile.</p> + +<p>When I was settled in the +chair beside his desk, Henderson +said, "That was good work you +did on Luna, Ged. Saved the +company a pretty pence."</p> + +<p>I smiled modestly and said, +"Thank you, sir." And reflected +to myself for the thousandth +time that the company could do +worse than split that saving +with the guy who'd made it possible. +Me, in other words.</p> + +<p>"Got a tricky one this time, +Ged," said my boss. He had done +his back-patting, now we got +down to business. He peered +keenly at me, or at least as keenly +as a round-faced tiny-eyed fat +man <i>can</i> peer. "What do you +know about the Risk Profession +Retirement Plan?" he asked me.</p> + +<p>"I've heard of it," I said truthfully. +"That's about all."</p> + +<p>He nodded. "Most of the policies +are sold off-planet, of +course. It's a form of insurance +for non-insurables. Spaceship +crews, asteroid prospectors, people +like that."</p> + +<p>"I see," I said, unhappily. I +knew right away this meant I +was going to have to go off-Earth +again. I'm a one-gee boy +all the way. Gravity changes get +me in the solar plexus. I get g-sick +at the drop of an elevator.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"Here's the way it works," he +went on, either not noticing my +sad face or choosing to ignore +it. "The client pays a monthly +premium. He can be as far ahead +or as far behind in his payments +as he wants—the policy has no +lapse clause—just so he's all +paid up by the Target Date. The +Target Date is a retirement age, +forty-five or above, chosen by +the client himself. After the Target +Date, he stops paying premiums, +and we begin to pay him +a monthly retirement check, the +amount determined by the +amount paid into the policy, his +age at retiring, and so on. +Clear?"</p> + +<p>I nodded, looking for the gimmick +that made this a paying +proposition for good old Tangiers +Mutual.</p> + +<p>"The Double R-P—that's what +we call it around the office here—assures +the client that he +won't be reduced to panhandling +in his old age, should his other +retirement plans fall through. +For Belt prospectors, of course, +this means the big strike, which +maybe one in a hundred find. +For the man who never does +make that big strike, this is +something to fall back on. He +can come home to Earth and retire, +with a guaranteed income +for the rest of his life."</p> + +<p>I nodded again, like a good +company man.</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Henderson, +emphasizing this point with an +upraised chubby finger, "these +men are still uninsurables. This +is a retirement plan only, not an +insurance policy. There is no +beneficiary other than the client +himself."</p> + +<p>And there was the gimmick. +I knew a little something of the +actuarial statistics concerning +uninsurables, particularly Belt +prospectors. Not many of them +lived to be forty-five, and the +few who would survive the Belt +and come home to collect the retirement +wouldn't last more than +a year or two. A man who's +spent the last twenty or thirty +years on low-gee asteroids just +shrivels up after a while when +he tries to live on Earth.</p> + +<p>It needed a company like Tangiers +Mutual to dream up a +racket like that. The term "uninsurables" +to most insurance +companies means those people +whose jobs or habitats make +them too likely as prospects for +obituaries. To Tangiers Mutual, +uninsurables are people who have +money the company can't get at.</p> + +<p>"Now," said Henderson importantly, +"we come to the problem +at hand." He ruffled his +up-to-now-neat In basket and finally +found the folder he wanted. He +studied the blank exterior of this +folder for a few seconds, pursing +his lips at it, and said, "One +of our clients under the Double +R-P was a man named Jafe +McCann."</p> + +<p>"Was?" I echoed.</p> + +<p>He squinted at me, then nodded +at my sharpness. "That's +right, he's dead." He sighed +heavily and tapped the folder +with all those pudgy fingers. +"Normally," he said, "that +would be the end of it. File +closed. However, this time there +are complications."</p> + +<p>Naturally. Otherwise, he +wouldn't be telling <i>me</i> about it. +But Henderson couldn't be +rushed, and I knew it. I kept the +alert look on my face and +thought of other things, while +waiting for him to get to the +point.</p> + +<p>"Two weeks after Jafe McCann's +death," Henderson said, +"we received a cash-return form +on his policy."</p> + +<p>"A cash-return form?" I'd +never heard of such a thing. It +didn't sound like anything Tangiers +Mutual would have anything +to do with. We <i>never</i> return +cash.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"It's something special in this +case," he explained. "You see, +this isn't an insurance policy, +it's a retirement plan, and the +client can withdraw from the retirement +plan at any time, and +have seventy-five per cent of his +paid-up premiums returned to +him. It's, uh, the law in plans +such as this."</p> + +<p>"Oh," I said. That explained +it. A law that had snuck through +the World Finance Code Commission +while the insurance lobby +wasn't looking.</p> + +<p>"But you see the point," said +Henderson. "This cash-return +form arrived two weeks after the +client's death."</p> + +<p>"You said there weren't any +beneficiaries," I pointed out.</p> + +<p>"Of course. But the form was +sent in by the man's partner, +one Ab Karpin. McCann left a +hand-written will bequeathing +all his possessions to Karpin. +Since, according to Karpin, this +was done before McCann's +death, the premium money cannot +be considered part of the +policy, but as part of McCann's +cash-on-hand. And Karpin wants +it."</p> + +<p>"It can't be that much, can +it?" I asked. I was trying my +best to point out to him that the +company would spend more than +it would save if it sent me all the +way out to the asteroids, a prospect +I could feel coming and one +which I wasn't ready to cry hosannah +over.</p> + +<p>"McCann died," Henderson +said ponderously, "at the age of +fifty-six. He had set his retirement +age at sixty. He took out +the policy at the age of thirty-four, +with monthly payments of +fifty credits. Figure it out for +yourself."</p> + +<p>I did—in my head—and came +up with a figure of thirteen +thousand and two hundred credits. +Seventy-five per cent of that +would be nine thousand and nine +hundred credits. Call it ten thousand +credits even.</p> + +<p>I had to admit it. It was worth +the trip.</p> + +<p>"I see," I said sadly.</p> + +<p>"Now," said Henderson, "the +conditions—the circumstances—of +McCann's death are somewhat +suspicious. And so is the +cash-return form itself."</p> + +<p>"There's a chance it's a forgery?"</p> + +<p>"One would think so," he said. +"But our handwriting experts +have worn themselves out with +that form, comparing it with +every other single scrap of McCann's +writing they can find. +And their conclusion is that not +only is it genuinely McCann's +handwriting, but it is McCann's +handwriting at age fifty-six."</p> + +<p>"So McCann must have written +it," I said. "Under duress, +do you think?"</p> + +<p>"I have no idea," said Henderson +complacently. "That's what +you're supposed to find out. Oh, +there's just one more thing."</p> + +<p>I did my best to make my ears +perk.</p> + +<p>"I told you that McCann's +death occurred under somewhat +suspicious circumstances."</p> + +<p>"Yes," I agreed, "you did."</p> + +<p>"McCann and Karpin," he +said, "have been partners—unincorporated, +of course—for the +last fifteen years. They had +found small rare-metal deposits +now and again, but they had +never found that one big strike +all the Belt prospectors waste +their lives looking for. Not until +the day before McCann died."</p> + +<p>"Ah hah," I said. "<i>Then</i> they +found the big strike."</p> + +<p>"Exactly."</p> + +<p>"And McCann's death?"</p> + +<p>"Accidental."</p> + +<p>"Sure," I said. "What proof +have we got?"</p> + +<p>"None. The body is lost in +space. And law is few and far +between that far out."</p> + +<p>"So all we've got is this guy +Karpin's word for how McCann +died, is that it?"</p> + +<p>"That's all we have. So far."</p> + +<p>"Sure. And now you want me +to go on out there and find out +what's cooking, and see if I can +maybe save the company ten +thousand credits."</p> + +<p>"Exactly," said Henderson.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">The</span> copter took me to the +spaceport west of Cairo, and +there I boarded the good ship +<i>Demeter</i> for Luna City and +points Out. I loaded up on g-sickness +pills and they worked +fine. I was sick as a dog.</p> + +<p>By the time we got to Atronics +City, my insides had grown +resigned to their fate. As long +as I didn't try to eat, my stomach +would leave me alone.</p> + +<p>Atronics City was about as +depressing as a Turkish bath +with all the lights on. It stood +on a chunk of rock a couple of +miles thick, and it looked like +nothing more in this world than +a welder's practice range.</p> + +<p>From the outside, Atronics +City is just a derby-shaped dome +of nickel-iron, black and kind of +dirty-looking. I suppose a transparent +dome would have been +more fun, but the builders of the +company cities in the asteroids +were businessmen, and they +weren't concerned with having +fun. There's nothing to look at +outside the dome but chunks of +rock and the blackness of space +anyway, and you've got all this +cheap iron floating around in the +vicinity, and all a dome's supposed +to do is keep the air in. +Besides, though the Belt isn't as +crowded as a lot of people think, +there <i>is</i> quite a lot of debris +rushing here and there, bumping +into things, and a transparent +dome would just get all +scratched up, not to mention +punctured.</p> + +<p>From the inside, Atronics +City is even jollier. There's the +top level, directly under the +dome, which is mainly parking +area for scooters and tuggers of +various kinds, plus the office +shacks of the Assayer's Office, +the Entry Authority, the Industry +Troopers and so on. The next +three levels have all been burned +into the bowels of the planetoid.</p> + +<p>Level two is the Atronics +plant, and a noisy plant it is. +Level three is the shopping +and entertainment area—grocery +stores and clothing stores and +movie theaters and bars—and +level four is housing, two rooms +and kitchen for the unmarried, +four rooms and kitchen plus one +room for each child for the married.</p> + +<p>All of these levels have one +thing in common. Square corners, +painted olive drab. The total +effect of the place is suffocating. +You feel like you're stuck +in the middle of a stack of packing +crates.</p> + +<p>Most of the people living in +Atronics City work, of course, for +International Atronics, Incorporated. +The rest of them work in +the service occupations—running +the bars and grocery stores +and so on—that keep the company +employees alive and relatively +happy.</p> + +<p>Wages come high in the places +like Atronics City. Why not, the +raw materials come practically +for free. And as for working +conditions, well, take a for instance. +How do you make a vacuum +tube? You fiddle with the +innards and surround it all with +glass. And how do you get the +air out? No problem, boy, there +wasn't any air in there to begin +with.</p> + +<p>At any rate, there I was at +Atronics City. That was as far +as <i>Demeter</i> would take me. Now, +while the ship went on to Ludlum +City and Chemisant City +and the other asteroid business +towns, my two suitcases and I +dribbled down the elevator to +my hostelry on level four.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Have you ever taken an elevator +ride when the gravity is +practically non-existent? Well, +don't. You see, the elevator manages +to sink faster than you do. +It isn't being <i>lowered</i> down to +level four, it's being <i>pulled</i> down.</p> + +<p>What this means is that the +suitcases have to be lashed down +with the straps provided, and +you and the operator have to +hold on tight to the hand-grips +placed here and there around the +wall. Otherwise, you'd clonk +your head on the ceiling.</p> + +<p>But we got to level four at +last, and off I went with my suitcases +and the operator's directions. +The suitcases weighed +about half an ounce each out +here, and I felt as though I +weighed the same. Every time I +raised a foot, I was sure I was +about to go sailing into a wall. +Local citizens eased by me, their +feet occasionally touching the +iron pavement as they soared +along, and I gave them all dirty +looks.</p> + +<p>Level four was nothing but +walls and windows. The iron +floor went among these walls and +windows in a straight straight +line, bisecting other "streets" at +perfect right angles, and the +iron ceiling sixteen feet up was +lined with a double row of fluorescent +tubes. I was beginning +to feel claustrophobic already.</p> + +<p>The Chalmers Hotel—named +for an Atronics vice-president—had +received my advance registration, +which was nice. I was +shown to a second-floor room—nothing +on level four had more +than two stories—and was left +to unpack my suitcases as best +I may.</p> + +<p>I had decided to spend a day +or two at Atronics City before +taking a scooter out to Ab Karpin's +claim. Atronics City had +been Karpin's and McCann's +home base. All of McCann's premium +payments had been mailed +from here, and the normal mailing +address for both of them +was GPO Atronics City.</p> + +<p>I wanted to know as much as +possible about Ab Karpin before +I went out to see him. And +Atronics City seemed like the +best place to get my information.</p> + +<p>But not today. Today, my +stomach was very unhappy, and +my head was on sympathy +strike. Today, I was going to +spend my time exclusively in +bed, trying not to float up to the +ceiling.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">The</span> Mapping & Registry +Office, it seemed to me the +next day, was the best place to +start. This was where prospectors +filed their claims, but it was +a lot more than that. The waiting +room of M&R was the unofficial +club of the asteroid prospectors. +This is where they met +with one another, talked together +about the things that prospectors +discuss, and made and +dissolved their transient partnerships.</p> + +<p>In this way, Karpin and McCann +were unusual. They had +maintained their partnership for +fifteen years. That was about +sixty times longer than most +such arrangements lasted.</p> + +<p>Searching the asteroid chunks +for rare and valuable metals is +basically pretty lonely work, and +it's inevitable that the prospectors +will every once in a while +get hungry for human company +and decide to try a team operation. +But, at the same time, work +like this attracts people who +don't get along very well with +human company. So the partnerships +come and go, and the hatreds +flare and are forgotten, and +the normal prospecting team +lasts an average of three +months.</p> + +<p>At any rate, it was to the +Mapping & Registry Office that +I went first. And, since that office +was up on the first level, I +went by elevator.</p> + +<p>Riding <i>up</i> in that elevator +was a heck of a lot more fun +than riding down. The elevator +whipped up like mad, the floor +pressed against the soles of my +feet, and it felt almost like good +old Earth for a second or two +there. But then the elevator +stopped, and I held on tight to +the hand-grips to keep from +shooting through the top of the +blasted thing.</p> + +<p>The operator—a phlegmatic +sort—gave me directions to the +M&R, and off I went, still trying +to figure out how to sail along +as gracefully as the locals.</p> + +<p>The Mapping & Registry Office +occupied a good-sized shack +over near the dome wall, next to +the entry lock. I pushed open the +door and went on in.</p> + +<p>The waiting room was cozy +and surprisingly large, large +enough to comfortably hold the +six maroon leather sofas scattered +here and there on the pale +green carpet, flanked by bronze +ashtray stands. There were only +six prospectors here at the moment, +chatting together in two +groups of three, and they all +looked alike. Grizzled, ageless, +watery-eyed, their clothing clean +but baggy. I passed them and +went on to the desk at the far +end, behind which sat a young +man in official gray, slowly turning +the crank of a microfilm +reader.</p> + +<p>He looked up at my approach. +I flashed my company identification +and asked to speak to the +manager. He went away, came +back, and ushered me into an office +which managed to be Spartan +and sumptuous at the same +time. The walls had been plastic-painted +in textured brown, +the iron floor had been lushly +carpeted in gray, and the desk +had been covered with a simulated +wood coating.</p> + +<p>The manager—a man named +Teaking—went well with the office. +His face and hands were +spare and lean, but his uniform +was immaculate, covered with +every curlicue the regulations +allowed. He welcomed me politely, +but curiously, and I said, "I +wonder if you know a prospector +named Ab Karpin?"</p> + +<p>"Karpin? Of course. He and +old Jafe McCann—pity about +McCann. I hear he got killed."</p> + +<p>"Yes, he did."</p> + +<p>"And that's what you're here +for, eh?" He nodded sagely. "I +didn't know the Belt boys could +get insurance," he said.</p> + +<p>"It isn't exactly that," I said. +"This concerns a retirement +plan, and—well, the details don't +matter." Which, I hoped, would +end his curiosity in that line. "I +was hoping you could give me +some background on Karpin. +And on McCann, too, for that +matter."</p> + +<p>He grinned a bit. "You saw +the men sitting outside?"</p> + +<p>I nodded.</p> + +<p>"Then you've seen Karpin and +McCann. Exactly the same. It +doesn't matter if a man's thirty +or sixty or what. It doesn't matter +what he was like before he +came out here. If he's been here +a few years, he looks exactly like +the bunch you saw outside +there."</p> + +<p>"That's appearance," I said. +"What I was looking for was +personality."</p> + +<p>"Same thing," he said. "All of +them. Close-mouthed, anti-social, +fiercely independent, incurably +romantic, always convinced that +the big strike is just a piece of +rock away. McCann, now, he was +a bit more realistic than most. +He'd be the one I'd expect to take +out a retirement policy. A real +pence-pincher, that one, though +I shouldn't say it as he's dead. +But that's the way he was. +Brighter than most Belt boys +when it came to money matters. +I've seen him haggle over a new +piece of equipment for their +scooter, or some repair work, or +some such thing, and he was a +wonder to watch."</p> + +<p>"And Karpin?" I asked him.</p> + +<p>"A prospector," he said, as +though that answered my question. +"Same as everybody else. +Not as sharp as McCann when it +came to money. That's why all the +money stuff in the partnership +was handled by McCann. But Karpin +was one of the sharpest boys +in the business when it came to +mineralogy. He knew rocks you +and I never heard of, and most +times he knew them by sight. Almost +all of the Belt boys are college +grads—you've got to know +what you're looking for out here +and what it looks like when you've +found it—but Karpin has practically +all of them beat. He's +<i>sharp</i>."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"Sounds like a good team," I +said.</p> + +<p>"I guess that's why they stayed +together so long," he said. "They +complemented each other." He +leaned forward, the inevitable +prelude to a confidential remark. +"I'll tell you something off the +record, Mister," he said. "Those +two were smarter than they knew. +Their partnership was never legalized, +it was never anything +more than a piece of paper. And +there's a bunch of fellas around +here mighty unhappy about that +today. Jafe McCann is the one +who handled all the money matters, +like I said. He's got IOU's +all over town."</p> + +<p>"And they can't collect from +Karpin?"</p> + +<p>He nodded. "Jafe McCann died +just a bit too soon. He was sharp +and cheap, but he was honest. If +he'd lived, he would have repaid +all his debts, I'm sure of it. And +if this strike they made is as +good as I hear, he would have +been able to repay them with no +trouble at all."</p> + +<p>I nodded, somewhat impatiently. +I had the feeling by now that +I was talking to a man who was +one of those who had a Jafe McCann +IOU in his pocket. "How +long has it been since you've +seen Karpin?" I asked him, wondering +what Karpin's attitude +and expression was now that his +partner was dead.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lord, not for a couple of +months," he said. "Not since +they went out together the last +time and made that strike."</p> + +<p>"Didn't Karpin come in to +make his claim?"</p> + +<p>"Not here. Over to Chemisant +City. That was the nearest M&R +to the strike."</p> + +<p>"Oh." That was a pity. I would +have liked to have known if there +had been a change of any kind in +Karpin since his partner's death. +"I'll tell you what the situation +is," I said, with a false air of +truthfulness. "We have some misgivings +about McCann's death. +Not suspicions, exactly, just misgivings. +The timing is what bothers +us."</p> + +<p>"You mean, because it happened +just after the strike?"</p> + +<p>"That's it," I answered frankly.</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "I wouldn't +get too excited about that, if I +were you," he said. "It wouldn't +be the first time it's happened. A +man makes the big strike after +all, and he gets so excited he forgets +himself for a minute and +gets careless. And you only have +to be careless once out here."</p> + +<p>"That may be it," I said. I got +to my feet, knowing I'd picked +up all there was from this man. +"Thanks a lot for your cooperation," +I said.</p> + +<p>"Any time," he said. He stood +and shook hands with me.</p> + +<p>I went back out through the +chatting prospectors and crossed +the echoing cavern that was level +one, aiming to rent myself a +scooter.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">I don't</span> like rockets. They're +noisy as the dickens, they steer +hard and drive erratically, and +you can never carry what <i>I</i> would +consider a safe emergency excess +of fuel. Nothing like the big +steady-g interplanetary liners. +On those I feel almost human.</p> + +<p>The appearance of the scooter +I was shown at the rental agency +didn't do much to raise my opinion +of this mode of transportation. +The thing was a good ten +years old, the paint scraped and +scratched all over its egg-shaped, +originally green-colored body, +and the windshield—a silly term, +really, for the front window of a +craft that spends most of its time +out where there isn't any wind—was +scratched and pockmarked +to the point of translucency by +years of exposure to the asteroidal +dust.</p> + +<p>The rental agent was a sharp-nosed +thin-faced type who displayed +this refugee from a melting +vat without a blush, and still +didn't blush when he told me the +charges. Twenty credits a day, +plus fuel.</p> + +<p>I paid without a murmur—it +was the company's money, not +mine—and paid an additional ten +credits for the rental of a suit to +go with it. I worked my way +awkwardly into the suit, and +clambered into the driver's seat +of the relic. I attached the suit +to the ship in all the necessary +places, and the agent closed and +spun the door.</p> + +<p>Most of the black paint had +worn off the handles of the controls, +and insulation peeked +through rips in the plastic siding +here and there. I wondered if the +thing had any slow leaks and +supposed fatalistically that it +had. The agent waved at me, +stony-faced, the conveyor belt +trundled me outside the dome, +and I kicked the weary rocket +into life.</p> + +<p>The scooter had a tendency to +roll to the right. If I hadn't kept +fighting it back, it would have +soon worked up a dandy little +spin. I was spending so much +time juggling with the controls +that I practically missed a couple +of my beacon rocks, and that +would have been just too bad. If +I'd gotten off the course I had +carefully outlined for myself, I'd +never have found my bearings +again, and I would have just +floated around amid the scenery +until some passerby took pity +and towed me back home.</p> + +<p>But I managed to avoid getting +lost, which surprised me, and after +four nerve-wracking hours I +finally spotted the yellow-painted +X of a registered claim on a half-mile-thick +chunk of rock dead +ahead. As I got closer, I spied a +scooter parked near the X, and +beside it an inflated portable +dome. The scooter was somewhat +larger than mine, but no newer +and probably even less safe. The +dome was varicolored, from repeated +patching.</p> + +<p>This would be the claim, and +this is where I would find Karpin, +sitting on his property while +waiting for the sale to go +through. Prospectors like Karpin +are free-lance men, working for +no particular company. They register +their claims in their own +names, and then sell the rights to +whichever company shows up +first with the most attractive offer. +There's a lot of paperwork to +such a sale, and it's all handled +by the company. While waiting, +the smart prospector sits on his +claim and makes sure nobody +chips off a part of it for himself, +a stunt that still happens now +and again. It doesn't take too +much concentrated explosive to +make two rocks out of one rock, +and a man's claim is only the +rock with his X on it.</p> + +<p>I set the scooter down next to +the other one, and flicked the +toggle for the air pumps, then +put on the fishbowl and went +about unattaching the suit from +the ship. When the red light +flashed on and off, I spun the +door, opened it, and stepped out +onto the rock, moving very cautiously. +It isn't that I don't believe +the magnets in the boot soles +will work, it's just that I know +for a fact that they won't work +if I happen to raise both feet at +the same time.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/002.png" width="500" height="298" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>I clumped across the crude X +to Karpin's dome. The dome had +no viewports at all, so I wasn't +sure Karpin was aware of my +presence. I rapped my metal +glove on the metal outer door of +the lock, and then I was sure.</p> + +<p>But it took him long enough to +open up. I had just about decided +he'd joined his partner in the +long sleep when the door cracked +open an inch. I pushed it open +and stepped into the lock, ducking +my head. The door was only +five feet high, and just as wide +as the lock itself, three feet. The +other dimensions of the lock +were: height, six feet six; width, +one foot. Not exactly room to +dance in.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>When the red light high on the +left-hand wall clicked off, I +rapped on the inner door. It +promptly opened, I stepped +through and removed the fishbowl.</p> + +<p>Karpin stood in the middle of +the room, a small revolver in his +hand. "Shut the door," he said.</p> + +<p>I obeyed, moving slowly. I didn't +want that gun to go off by +mistake.</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" Karpin demanded. +The M&R man had been +right. Ab Karpin was a dead +ringer for all those other prospectors +I'd seen back at Atronics +City. Short and skinny and grizzled +and ageless. He could have +been forty, and he could have +been ninety, but he was probably +somewhere the other side of fifty. +His hair was black and limp +and thinning, ruffled in little +wisps across his wrinkled pate. +His forehead and cheeks were +lined like a plowed field, and were +much the same color. His eyes +were wide apart and small, so +deep-set beneath shaggy brows +that they seemed black. His +mouth was thin, almost lipless. +The hand holding the revolver +was nothing but bones and blue +veins covered with taut skin.</p> + +<p>He was wearing a dirty undershirt +and an old pair of trousers +that had been cut off raggedly +just above his knobby knees. +Faded slippers were on his feet. +He had good reason for dressing +that way, the temperature inside +the dome must have been nearly +ninety degrees. The dome wasn't +reflecting away the sun's heat as +well as it had when it was young.</p> + +<p>I looked at Karpin, and despite +the revolver and the tense expression +on his face, he was the least +dangerous-looking man I'd ever +run across. All at once, the idea +that this anti-social old geezer +had the drive or the imagination +to murder his partner seemed ridiculous.</p> + +<p>Apparently, I spent too much +time looking him over, because he +said again, "Who are you?" And +this time he motioned impatiently +with the revolver.</p> + +<p>"Stanton," I told him. "Ged +Stanton, Tangiers Mutual Insurance. +I have identification, but +it's in my pants pocket, down inside +this suit."</p> + +<p>"Get it," he said. "And move +slow."</p> + +<p>"Right you are."</p> + +<p>I moved slow, as per directions, +and peeled out of the suit, +then reached into my trouser +pocket and took out my ID clip. +I flipped it open and showed him +the card bearing my signature +and picture and right thumb-print +and the name of the company +I represented, and he nodded, +satisfied, and tossed the revolver +over onto his bed. "I got +to be careful," he said. "I got a +big claim here."</p> + +<p>"I know that," I told him. +"Congratulations for it."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," he said, but he still +looked peevish. "You're here +about Jafe's insurance, right?"</p> + +<p>"That I am."</p> + +<p>"Don't want to pay up, I suppose. +That doesn't surprise me."</p> + +<p>Blunt old men irritate me. +"Well," I said, "we do have to +investigate."</p> + +<p>"Sure," he said. "You want +some coffee?"</p> + +<p>"Thank you."</p> + +<p>"You can sit in that chair +there. That was Jafe's."</p> + +<p>I settled gingerly in the cloth-and-plastic +foldaway chair he'd +pointed at, and he went over to +the kitchen area of the dome to +start coffee. I took the opportunity +to look the dome over. It +was the first portable dome I'd +ever been inside.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>It was all one room, roughly +circular, with a diameter of +about fifteen feet. The sides went +straight up for the first seven +feet, then curved gradually inward +to form the roof. At the +center of the dome, the ceiling +was about twelve feet high.</p> + +<p>The floor of the room was simply +the asteroidal rock surface, +not completely level and smooth. +There were two chairs and a table +to the right of the entry lock, +two foldaway cots around the +wall beyond them, the kitchen +area next and a cluttered storage +area around on the other side. +There was a heater standing +alone in the center of the room, +but it certainly wasn't needed +now. Sweat was already trickling +down the back of my neck and +down my forehead into my eyebrows. +I peeled off my shirt and +used it to wipe sweat from my +face. "Warm in here," I said.</p> + +<p>"You get used to it," he muttered, +which I found hard to believe.</p> + +<p>He brought over the coffee, +and I tasted it. It was rotten, as +bitter as this old hermit's soul, +but I said, "Good coffee. Thanks +a lot."</p> + +<p>"I like it strong," he said.</p> + +<p>I looked around at the room +again. "All the comforts of home, +eh? Pretty ingenious arrangement."</p> + +<p>"Sure," he said sourly. "How +about getting to the point, Mister?"</p> + +<p>There's only one way to handle +a blunt old man. Be blunt +right back. "I'll tell you how it +is," I said. "The company isn't +accusing you of anything, but it +has to be sure everything's on +the up and up before it pays out +any ten thousand credits. And +your partner just happening to +fill out that cash-return form just +before he died—well, you've got +to admit it is a funny kind of coincidence."</p> + +<p>"How so?" He slurped coffee, +and glowered at me over the +cup. "We made this strike here," +he said. "We knew it was the big +one. Jafe had that insurance policy +of his in case he never did +make the big strike. As soon as +we knew this was the big one, +he said, 'I guess I don't need +that retirement now,' and sat +right down and wrote out the +cash-return. Then we opened a +bottle of liquor and celebrated, +and he got himself killed."</p> + +<p>The way Karpin said it, it +sounded smooth and natural. <i>Too</i> +smooth and natural. "How did +this accident happen anyway?" I +asked him.</p> + +<p>"I'm not one hundred per cent +sure of that myself," he said. +"I was pretty well drunk myself +by that time. But he put on his +suit and said he was going out to +paint the X. He was falling all +over himself, and I tried to tell +him it could wait till we'd had +some sleep, but he wouldn't pay +any attention to me."</p> + +<p>"So he went out," I said.</p> + +<p>He nodded. "He went out first. +After a couple minutes, I got +lonesome in here, so I suited up +and went out after him. It happened +just as I was going out +the lock, and I just barely got a +glimpse of what happened."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>He attacked the coffee again, +noisily, and I prompted him, saying, +"What did happen, Mister +Karpin?"</p> + +<p>"Well, he was capering around +out there, waving the paint tube +and such. There's a lot of sharp +rock sticking out around here. +Just as I got outside, he lost his +balance and kicked out, and +scraped right into some of that +rock, and punctured his suit."</p> + +<p>"I thought the body was lost," +I said.</p> + +<p>He nodded. "It was. The last +thing in life Jafe ever did was +try to shove himself away from +those rocks. That, and the force +of air coming out of that puncture +for the first second or two, +was enough to throw him up off +the surface. It threw him up too +high, and he never got back +down."</p> + +<p>My doubt must have showed +in my face, because he added, +"Mister, there isn't enough gravity +on this place to shoot craps +with."</p> + +<p>He was right. As we talked, I +kept finding myself holding unnecessarily +tight to the arms of +the chair. I kept having the feeling +I was going to float out of +the chair and hover around up at +the top of the dome if I were to +let go. It was silly of course—there +was <i>some</i> gravity on that +planetoid, after all—but I just +don't seem to get used to low-gee.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, I still had some +more questions. "Didn't you try +to get his body back? Couldn't +you have reached him?"</p> + +<p>"I tried to, Mister," he said. +"Old Jafe McCann was my partner +for fifteen years. But I was +drunk, and that's a fact. And I +was afraid to go jumping up in +the air, for fear <i>I'd</i> go floating +away, too."</p> + +<p>"Frankly," I said, "I'm no expert +on low gravity and asteroids. +But wouldn't McCann's +body just go into orbit around +this rock? I mean, it wouldn't +simply go floating off into space, +would it?"</p> + +<p>"It sure would," he said. +"There's a lot of other rocks out +here, too, Mister, and a lot of +them are bigger than this one +and have a lot more gravity pull. +I don't suppose there's a navigator +in the business who could +have computed Jafe's course in +advance. He floated up, and then +he floated back over the dome +here and seemed to hover for a +couple minutes, and then he just +floated out and away. His isn't +the only body circling around the +sun with all these rocks, you +know."</p> + +<p>I chewed a lip and thought it +all over. I didn't know enough +about asteroid gravity or the +conditions out here to be able to +say for sure whether Karpin's +story was true or not. Up to this +point, I couldn't attack the problem +on a fact basis. I had to depend +on <i>feeling</i> now, the hunches +and instincts of eight years in +this job, hearing some people tell +lies and other people tell the +truth.</p> + +<p>And my instinct said Ab Karpin +was lying in his teeth. That +dramatic little touch about McCann's +body hovering over the +dome before disappearing into +the void, that sounded more like +the embellishment of fiction than +the circumstance of truth. And +the string of coincidences were +just too much. McCann just coincidentally +happens to die right +after he and his partner make +their big strike. He happens to +write out the cash-return form +just before dying. And his body +just happens to float away, so +nobody can look at it and check +Karpin's story.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>But no matter what my instinct +said, the story was smooth. +It was smooth as glass, and there +was no place for me to get a grip +on it.</p> + +<p>What now? There wasn't any +hole in Karpin's story, at least +none that I could see. I had to +break his story somehow, and in +order to do that I had to do some +nosing around on this planetoid. +I couldn't know in advance what +I was looking for, I could only +look. I'd know it when I found +it. It would be something that +conflicted with Karpin's story.</p> + +<p>And for that, I had to be sure +the story was complete. "You +said McCann had gone out to +paint the X," I said. "Did he +paint it?"</p> + +<p>Karpin shook his head. "He +never got a chance. He spent all +his time dancing, up till he went +and killed himself."</p> + +<p>"So you painted it yourself."</p> + +<p>He nodded.</p> + +<p>"And then you went on into +Atronics City and registered +your claim, is that the story?"</p> + +<p>"No. Chemisant City was closer +than Atronics City right then, +so I went there. Just after Jafe's +death, and everything—I didn't +feel like being alone any more +than I had to."</p> + +<p>"You said Chemisant City was +closer to you <i>then</i>," I said. "Isn't +it now?"</p> + +<p>"Things move around a lot out +here, Mister," he said. "Right +now, Chemisant City's almost +twice as far from here as Atronics +City. In about three days, it'll +start swinging in closer again. +Things keep shifting around out +here."</p> + +<p>"So I've noticed," I said. +"When you took off to go to +Chemisant City, didn't you make +a try for your partner's body +then?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "He was +long out of sight by then," he +said. "That was ten, eleven hours +later, when I took off."</p> + +<p>"Why's that? All you had to +do was paint the X and take off."</p> + +<p>"Mister, I told you. I was +drunk. I was falling down drunk, +and when I saw I couldn't get at +Jafe, and he was dead anyway, I +came back in here and slept it +off. Maybe if I'd been sober I +would have taken the scooter and +gone after him, but I was <i>drunk</i>."</p> + +<p>"I see." And there just weren't +any more questions I could think +of to ask, not right now. So I +said, "I've just had a shaky four-hour +ride coming out here. Mind +if I stick around a while before +going back?"</p> + +<p>"Help yourself," he said, in a +pretty poor attempt at genial +hospitality. "You can sleep over, +if you want."</p> + +<p>"Fine," I said. "I think I'd +like that."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't happen to play +cribbage, would you?" he asked, +with the first real sign of animation +I'd seen in him yet.</p> + +<p>"I learn fast," I told him.</p> + +<p>"Okay," he said. "I'll teach +you." And he produced a filthy +deck of cards and taught me.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">After</span> losing nine straight +games of cribbage, I quit, +and got to my feet. I was at my +most casual as I stretched and +said, "Okay if I wander around +outside for a while? I've never +been on an asteroid like this before. +I mean, a little one like +this. I've just been to the company +cities up to now."</p> + +<p>"Go right ahead," he said. +"I've got some polishing and +patching to do, anyway." He +made his voice sound easy and +innocent, but I noticed his eyes +were alert and wary, watching +me as I struggled back into my +suit.</p> + +<p>I didn't bother to put my shirt +back on first, and that was a mistake. +The temperature inside an +atmosphere suit is a steady sixty-eight +degrees. That had never +seemed particularly chilly before, +but after the heat of that dome, it +seemed cold as a blizzard inside +the suit.</p> + +<p>I went on out through the airlock, +and moved as briskly as +possible in the cumbersome suit, +while the sweat chilled on my +back and face, and I accepted +the glum conviction that one +thing I was going to get out of +this trip for sure was a nasty +head cold.</p> + +<p>I went over to the X first, and +stood looking at it. It was just an +X, that's all, shakily scrawled in +yellow paint, with the initials +"J-A" scrawled much smaller beside +it.</p> + +<p>I left the X and clumped away. +The horizon was practically at +arm's length, so it didn't take +long for the dome to be out of +sight. And then I clumped more +slowly, studying the surface of +the asteroid.</p> + +<p>What I was looking for was a +grave. I believed that Karpin was +lying, that he had murdered his +partner. And I didn't believe that +Jafe McCann's body had floated +off into space. I was convinced +that his body was still somewhere +on this asteroid. Karpin had been +forced to concoct a story about +the body being lost because the +appearance of the body would +prove somehow that it had been +murder and not accident. I was +convinced of that, and now all I +had to do was prove it.</p> + +<p>But that asteroid was a pretty +unlikely place for a grave. That +wasn't dirt I was walking on, it +was rock, solid metallic rock. You +don't dig a grave in solid rock, +not with a shovel. You maybe can +do it with dynamite, but that +won't work too well if your object +is to keep anybody from seeing +that the hole has been made. +Dirt can be patted down. Blown-up +rock looks like blown-up rock, +and that's all there is to it.</p> + +<p>I considered crevices and fissures +in the surface, some cranny +large enough for Karpin to have +stuffed the body into. But I didn't +find any of these either as I +plodded along, being sure to keep +one magnetted boot always in +contact with the ground.</p> + +<p>Karpin and McCann had set +their dome up at just about the +only really level spot on that entire +planetoid. The rest of it was +nothing but jagged rock, and it +wasn't easy traveling at all, maneuvering +around with magnets +on my boots and a bulky atmosphere +suit cramping my movements.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>And then I stopped and +looked out at space and cursed +myself for a ring-tailed baboon. +McCann's body might be anywhere +in the Solar System, anywhere +at all, but there was one +place I could be sure it wasn't, +and that place was this asteroid. +No, Karpin had not blown a +grave or stuffed the body into a +fissure in the ground. Why not? +Because this chunk of rock was +valuable, that's why not. Because +Karpin was in the process +of selling it to one of the major +companies, and that company +would come along and chop this +chunk of rock to pieces, getting +the valuable metal out, and McCann's +body would turn up in the +first week of operations if Karpin +were stupid enough to bury it +here.</p> + +<p>Ten hours between McCann's +death and Karpin's departure +for Chemisant City. He'd admitted +that already. And I was willing +to bet he'd spent at least part +of that time carrying McCann's +body to some other asteroid, one +he was sure was nothing but +worthless rock. If that were +true, it meant the mortal remains +of Jafe McCann were now somewhere—<i>anywhere</i>—in +the Asteroid +Belt. Even if I assumed that +the body had been hidden on an +asteroid somewhere between here +and Chemisant City—which wasn't +necessarily so—that wouldn't +help at all. The relative positions +of planetoids in the Belt just keep +on shifting. A small chunk of +rock that was between here and +Chemisant City a few weeks ago—it +could be almost anywhere +in the Belt right now.</p> + +<p>The body, that was the main +item. I'd more or less counted on +finding it somehow. At the moment, +I couldn't think of any +other angle for attacking Karpin's +story.</p> + +<p>As I clopped morosely back to +the dome, I nibbled at Karpin's +story in my mind. For instance, +why go to Chemisant City? It +was closer, he said, but it couldn't +have been closer by more than +a couple of hours. The way I understood +it, Karpin was well-known +back on Atronics City—it +was the normal base of operations +for he and his partner—and +he didn't know a soul at +Chemisant City. Did it make +sense for him to go somewhere he +wasn't known after his partner's +death, even if it <i>was</i> an hour +closer? No, it made a lot more +sense for a man in that situation +to go where he's known, go someplace +where he has friends who'll +sympathize with him and help +him over the shock of losing a +partner of fifteen years' standing, +even if going there does +mean traveling an hour longer.</p> + +<p>And there was always the cash-return +form. That was what I +was here about in the first place. +It just didn't make sense for +McCann to have held up his celebration +while he filled out a form +that he wouldn't be able to mail +until he got back to Atronics +City. And yet the company's +handwriting experts were convinced +that it wasn't a forgery, +and I could pretty well take their +word for it.</p> + +<p>Mulling these things over as I +tramped back toward the dome, +I suddenly heard a distant bell +ringing way back in my head. +The glimmering of an idea, not +an idea yet but just the hint of +one. I wasn't sure where it led, +or even if it led anywhere at all, +but I was going to find out.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Karpin</span> opened the doors for +me. By the time I'd stripped +off the suit he was back to work. +He was cleaning the single unit +which was his combination stove +and refrigerator and sink and +garbage disposal.</p> + +<p>I looked around the dome +again, and I had to admit that a +lot of ingenuity had gone into +the manufacture and design of +this dome and its contents. The +dome itself, when deflated, folded +down into an oblong box three +feet by one foot by one foot. The +lock itself, of course, folded separately, +into another box somewhat +smaller than that.</p> + +<p>As for the gear inside the +dome, it was functional and collapsible, +and there wasn't a single +item there that wasn't needed. +There were the two chairs and +the two cots and the table, all of +them foldaway. There was that +fantastic combination job Karpin +was cleaning right now, and that +had dimensions of four feet by +three feet by three feet. The +clutter of gear over to the left +wasn't as much of a clutter as it +looked. There was a Geiger +counter, an automatic spectrograph, +two atmosphere suits, a +torsion densimeter, a core-cutting +drill, a few small hammers +and picks, two spare air tanks, +boxes of food concentrate, a paint +tube, a doorless jimmy-john and +two small metal boxes about +eight inches cube. These last were +undoubtedly Karpin's and McCann's +pouches, where they kept +whatever letters, money, address +books or other small bits of possessions +they owned. Back of +this mound of gear, against the +wall, stood the air reconditioner, +humming quietly to itself.</p> + +<p>In this small enclosed space +there was everything a man needed +to keep himself alive. Everything +except human company. +And if you didn't need human +company, then you had everything. +Just on the other side of +that dome, there was a million +miles of death, in a million possible +ways. On this side of the +dome, life was cozy, if somewhat +Spartan and very hot.</p> + +<p>I knew for sure I was going +to get a head cold. My body had +adjusted to the sixty-eight degrees +inside the suit, finally, and +now was very annoyed to find +the temperature shooting up to +ninety again.</p> + +<p>Since Karpin didn't seem inclined +to talk, and I would rather +spend my time thinking than +talking anyway, I took a hint +from him and did some cleaning. +I'd noticed a smeared spot about +nose-level on the faceplate of my +fishbowl, and now was as good a +time as any to get rid of it. It had +a tendency to make my eyes +cross.</p> + +<p>My shirt was sodden and wrinkled +by this time anyway, having +first been used to wipe sweat +from my face and later been +rolled into a ball and left on the +chair when I went outside, so I +used it for a cleaning rag, buffing +like mad the silvered surface of +the faceplate. Faceplates are silvered, +not so the man inside can +look out and no one else can look +in, but in order to keep some of +the more violent rays of the sun +from getting through to the +face.</p> + +<p>I buffed for a while, and then +I put the fishbowl on my head +and looked through it. The spot +was gone, so I went over and reattached +it to the rest of the suit, +and then settled back in my chair +again and lit a cigarette.</p> + +<p>Karpin spoke up. "Wish you +wouldn't smoke. Makes it tough +on the conditioner."</p> + +<p>"Oh," I said. "Sorry." So I just +sat, thinking morosely about non-forged +cash-return forms, and +coincidences, and likely spots to +hide a body in the Asteroid Belt.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Where would one dispose of a +body in the asteroids? I went +back through my thinking on +that topic, and I found holes big +enough to drive Karpin's claim +through. This idea of leaving the +body on some worthless chunk of +rock, for instance. If Karpin +had killed his partner—and I was +dead sure he had—he'd planned +it carefully and he wouldn't be +leaving anything to chance. Now, +an asteroid isn't worthless to a +prospector until that prospector +has landed on it and tested it. +<i>Karpin</i> might know that such-and-such +an asteroid was nothing +but worthless stone, but the guy +who stops there and finds McCann's +body might <i>not</i> know it.</p> + +<p>No, Karpin wouldn't leave that +to chance. He would get rid of +that body, and he would do it in +such a way that nobody would +<i>ever</i> find it.</p> + +<p>How? Not by leaving it on a +worthless asteroid, and not by +just pushing it off into space. +The distance between asteroids is +large, but so's the travel. McCann's +body, floating around in +the blackness, might just be +found by somebody.</p> + +<p>And that, so far as I could see, +eliminated the possibilities. McCann's +body was in the Belt. I'd +eliminated both the asteroids +themselves and the space around +the asteroids as hiding places. +What was left?</p> + +<p>The sun, of course.</p> + +<p>I thought that over for a +while, rather surprised at myself +for having noticed the possibility. +Now, let's say Karpin attaches +a small rocket to McCann's +body, stuffed into its atmosphere +suit. He sets the rocket going, +and off goes McCann. Not that +he aims it toward the sun, that +wouldn't work well at all. Instead +of falling into the sun, the body +would simply take up a long +elliptical orbit <i>around</i> the sun, +and would come back to the +asteroids every few hundred +years. No, he would aim McCann +<i>back</i>, in the direction opposite to +the direction or rotation of the +asteroids. He would, in essence, +slow McCann's body down, make +it practically stop in relation to +the motion of the asteroids. And +then it would simply <i>fall</i> into +the sun.</p> + +<p>None of my ideas, it seemed, +were happy ones. If McCann's +body were even at this moment +falling toward the sun, it was +just as useful to me as if it were +on some other asteroid.</p> + +<p>But, wait a second. Karpin +and McCann had worked with the +minimum of equipment, I'd already +noticed that. They didn't +have extras of anything, and +they certainly wouldn't have extra +rockets. Except for one fast +trip to Chemisant City—when he +had neither the time nor the excuse +to buy a jato rocket—Karpin +had spent all of his time +since McCann's death right here +on this planetoid.</p> + +<p>So that killed that idea.</p> + +<p>While I was hunting around +for some other idea, Karpin +spoke up again, for the first time +in maybe twenty minutes. "You +think I killed him, don't you?" +he said, not looking around from +his cleaning job.</p> + +<p>I considered my answer. There +was no reason at all to be overly +polite to this sour old buzzard, +but at the same time I am naturally +the soft-spoken type. "We +aren't sure," I said. "We just +think there are some odd items +to be explained."</p> + +<p>"Such as what?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Such as the timing of McCann's +cash-return form."</p> + +<p>"I already explained that," he +said.</p> + +<p>"I know. You've explained everything."</p> + +<p>"He wrote it out himself," the +old man insisted. He put down +his cleaning cloth, and turned to +face me. "I suppose your company +checked the handwriting already, +and Jafe McCann is the +one who wrote that form."</p> + +<p>He was so blasted sure of himself. +"It would seem that way," +I said.</p> + +<p>"What other odd items you +worried about?" he asked me, in +a rusty attempt at sarcasm.</p> + +<p>"Well," I said, "there's this +business of going to Chemisant +City. It would have made more +sense for you to go to Atronics +City, where you were known."</p> + +<p>"Chemisant was closer," he +said. He shook a finger at me. +"That company of yours thinks +it can cheat me out of my money," +he said. "Well, it can't. I +know my rights. That money belongs +to me."</p> + +<p>"I guess you're doing pretty +well without McCann," I said.</p> + +<p>His angry expression was replaced +by one of bewilderment. +"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"They told me back at Atronics +City," I explained, "that McCann +was the money expert and you +were the metals expert, and that's +why McCann handled all your +buying on credit and stuff like +that. Looks as though you've got +a pretty keen eye for money yourself."</p> + +<p>"I know what's mine," he mumbled, +and turned away. He went +back to scrubbing the stove coils +again.</p> + +<p>I stared at his back. Something +had happened just then, and I +wasn't sure what. He'd just been +starting to warm up to a tirade +against the dirty insurance company, +and all of a sudden he'd +folded up and shut up like a clam.</p> + +<p>And then I saw it. Or at least +I saw part of it. I saw how that +cash-return form fit in, and how +it made perfect sense.</p> + +<p>Now, all I needed was proof of +murder. Preferably a body. I had +the rest of it. Then I could pack +the old geezer back to Atronics +City and get proof for the part +I'd already figured out.</p> + +<p>I'd like that. I'd like getting +back to Atronics City, and having +this all straightened out, and +then taking the very next liner +straight back to Earth. More immediately, +I'd like getting out of +this heat and back into the cool +sixty-eight degrees of—</p> + +<p>And then it hit me. The whole +thing hit me, and I just sat there +and stared. They did not carry +extras, Karpin and McCann, they +did not carry one item of equipment +more than they needed.</p> + +<p>I sat there and looked at the +place where the dead body was +hidden, and I said, "Well, I'll be +a son of a gun!"</p> + +<p>He turned and looked at me, +and then he followed the direction +of my gaze, and he saw +what I was staring at, and he +made a jump across the room at +the revolver lying on the cot.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>That's what saved me. He +moved too fast, jerked his +muscles too hard, and went sailing +up and over the cot and ricocheted +off the dome wall. And +that gave me plenty of time to +get up from the chair, moving +more cautiously than he had, and +get my hands on the revolver before +he could get himself squared +away again.</p> + +<p>I straightened with the gun in +my hand and looked into a face +white with frustration and rage. +"Okay, Mister McCann," I said. +"It's all over."</p> + +<p>He knew I had him, but he +tried not to show it. "What are +you talking about? McCann's +dead."</p> + +<p>"Sure he is," I said. "Jafe McCann +was the money-minded part +of the team. He was the one who +signed for all the loans and all +the equipment bought on credit. +With this big strike in, Jafe McCann +was the one who'd have to +pay all that money."</p> + +<p>"You're babbling," he snapped, +but the words were hollow.</p> + +<p>"You weren't satisfied with +half a loaf," I said. "You should +have been. Half a loaf is better +than none. But you wanted every +penny you could get your hands +on, and you wanted to pay out +just as little money as you possibly +could. So when you killed +Ab Karpin, you saw a way to +kill your debts as well. You'd +<i>become</i> Ab Karpin, and it would +be Jafe McCann who was dead, +and the debts dead with him."</p> + +<p>"That's a lie," he said, his +voice getting shrill. "<i>I'm</i> Ab Karpin, +and I've got papers to prove +it."</p> + +<p>"Sure. Papers you stole from a +dead man. And you might have +gotten away with it, too. But you +just couldn't leave well enough +alone, could you? Not satisfied +with having the whole claim to +yourself, you switched identities +with your victim to avoid your +debts. And not satisfied with +<i>that</i>, you filled out a cash-return +form and tried to collect your +money as your own heir. <i>That's</i> +why you had to go to Chemisant +City, where nobody would recognize +Ab Karpin or Jafe McCann, +rather than to Atronics City +where you were well-known."</p> + +<p>"You don't want to make too +many wild accusations," he +shouted, his voice shaking. "You +don't want to go around accusing +people of things you can't prove."</p> + +<p>"I can prove it," I told him. +"I can prove everything I've said. +As to who you are, there's no +problem. All I have to do is bring +you back to Atronics City. +There'll be plenty of people there +to identify you. And as to proving +you murdered Ab Karpin, I +think his body will be proof +enough, don't you?"</p> + +<p>McCann watched me as I +backed slowly around the room +to the mound of gear. The partners +had had no extra equipment, +no extra equipment at all. I +looked down at the two atmosphere +suits lying side by side on +the metallic rock floor.</p> + +<p><i>Two</i> atmosphere suits. The +dead man was supposed to be in +one of those, floating out in +space somewhere. He was in the +suit, right enough, I was sure of +that, but he wasn't floating anywhere.</p> + +<p>A space suit is a perfect place +to hide a body, for as long as it +has to be hid. The silvered faceplate +keeps you from seeing inside, +and the suit is, naturally, +a sealed atmosphere. A body can +rot away to ashes inside a space +suit, and you'll never notice a +thing on the outside.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>I'd had the right idea after all. +McCann had planned to get rid +of Karpin's body by attaching a +rocket to it, slowing it down, +and letting it fall into the sun. +But he hadn't had an opportunity +yet to go buy a rocket. He couldn't +go to Atronics City, where he +could have bought the rocket on +credit, and he couldn't go to +Chemisant City until the claim +sale went through and he had +some money to spend. And in the +meantime, Karpin's body was +perfectly safe, sealed away inside +his atmosphere suit.</p> + +<p>And it would have been safe, +too, if McCann hadn't been just +a little bit too greedy. He could +kill his partner and get away +with it; policemen on the Belt are +even farther apart than the asteroids. +He could swindle his creditors +and get away with it; they +had no way of checking up and +no reason to suspect a switch in +identities. But when he tried to +get his own money back from +Tangiers Mutual Insurance; +<i>that's</i> when he made his mistake.</p> + +<p>I studied the two atmosphere +suits, at the same time managing +to keep a wary eye on Jafe McCann, +standing rigid and silent +across the room. Which one of +those suits contained the body of +Ab Karpin?</p> + +<p>The one with the new patch on +the chest, of course. As I'd +guessed, McCann had shot him, +and that's why he had the problem +of disposing of the body in +the first place.</p> + +<p>I prodded that suit with my +toe. "He's in there, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>"You're crazy."</p> + +<p>"Think I should open it up +and check? It's been almost a +month, you know. I imagine he's +pretty ripe by now."</p> + +<p>I reached down to the neck-fastenings +on the fishbowl, and +McCann finally moved. His arms +jerked up, and he cried, "Don't! +He's in there, he's in there! For +God's sake, don't open it up!"</p> + +<p>I relaxed. Mission accomplished. +"Crawl into your suit, +little man," I said. "We've got +ourselves a trip to make, the +three of us."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Henderson</span>, as usual, was jovial +but stern. "You did a fine job up +there, Ged," he said, with false +familiarity. "Really brilliant +work."</p> + +<p>"Thank you very much," I said. +I was holding the last piece of +news for a minute or two, relishing +it.</p> + +<p>"But you brought McCann in +over a week ago. I don't see why +you had to stay up at Atronics +City at all after that, much less +ten days."</p> + +<p>I sat back in the chair and +negligently crossed my legs. "I +just thought I'd take a little vacation," +I said carelessly, and lit +a cigarette. I flicked ashes in the +general direction of the ashtray +on Henderson's desk. Some of +them made it.</p> + +<p>"A vacation?" he echoed, eyes +widening. Henderson was a company +man, a <i>real</i> company man. +A vacation for him was purgatory, +it was separation from a +loved one. "I don't believe you +have a vacation coming," he said +frostily, "for at least six months."</p> + +<p>"That's what you think, Henny," +I said.</p> + +<p>All he could do at that was +blink.</p> + +<p>I went on, enjoying myself +hugely. "I don't like this company," +I said. "And I don't like +this job. And I don't like you. +And from now on, I've decided, +it's going to be vacation all the +time."</p> + +<p>"Ged," he said, his voice faint, +"what's the matter with you? +Don't you feel well?"</p> + +<p>"I feel well," I told him. "I feel +fine. Now, I'll tell you why I +spent an extra ten days at Atronics +City. McCann made and registered +the big strike, right?"</p> + +<p>Henderson nodded blankly, apparently +not trusting himself to +speak.</p> + +<p>"Wrong," I said cheerfully. +"McCann went to Chemisant +City and filled out all the forms +required for registering a claim. +But every place he was supposed +to sign his name he wrote <i>Ab +Karpin</i> instead. Jafe McCann +<i>never did make a legal registration +of his claim</i>."</p> + +<p>Henderson just looked fish-eyed.</p> + +<p>"So," I went on, "as soon as I +turned McCann over to the law +at Atronics City, I went and +registered that claim myself. And +then I waited around for ten +days until the company finished +the paperwork involved in buying +that claim from me. And +then I came straight back here, +just to say goodbye to you. +Wasn't that nice?"</p> + +<p>He didn't move.</p> + +<p>"Goodbye," I said.</p> + +<p class="p1"><b>THE END</b></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/003.png" width="400" height="134" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="trn"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b> +This etext was produced from <i>Amazing Stories</i> March 1961. +Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and +typographical errors have been corrected without note.</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Risk Profession, by Donald Edwin Westlake + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RISK PROFESSION *** + +***** This file should be named 27089-h.htm or 27089-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/0/8/27089/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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