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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/27089-h.zip b/27089-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b3bb5a0 --- /dev/null +++ b/27089-h.zip 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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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: ASCII + +*** 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 + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: Illustrated by IVIE] + + + _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 ..._ + + +The RISK PROFESSION + +By DONALD E. WESTLAKE + + +Mister Henderson 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. + +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. + +It made working for a living almost worthwhile. + +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." + +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. + +"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 _can_ peer. "What do +you know about the Risk Profession Retirement Plan?" he asked me. + +"I've heard of it," I said truthfully. "That's about all." + +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." + +"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. + + * * * + +"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?" + +I nodded, looking for the gimmick that made this a paying proposition +for good old Tangiers Mutual. + +"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." + +I nodded again, like a good company man. + +"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." + +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. + +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. + +"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." + +"Was?" I echoed. + +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." + +Naturally. Otherwise, he wouldn't be telling _me_ 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. + +"Two weeks after Jafe McCann's death," Henderson said, "we received a +cash-return form on his policy." + +"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 _never_ +return cash. + + * * * + +"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." + +"Oh," I said. That explained it. A law that had snuck through the World +Finance Code Commission while the insurance lobby wasn't looking. + +"But you see the point," said Henderson. "This cash-return form arrived +two weeks after the client's death." + +"You said there weren't any beneficiaries," I pointed out. + +"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." + +"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. + +"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." + +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. + +I had to admit it. It was worth the trip. + +"I see," I said sadly. + +"Now," said Henderson, "the conditions--the circumstances--of McCann's +death are somewhat suspicious. And so is the cash-return form itself." + +"There's a chance it's a forgery?" + +"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." + +"So McCann must have written it," I said. "Under duress, do you think?" + +"I have no idea," said Henderson complacently. "That's what you're +supposed to find out. Oh, there's just one more thing." + +I did my best to make my ears perk. + +"I told you that McCann's death occurred under somewhat suspicious +circumstances." + +"Yes," I agreed, "you did." + +"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." + +"Ah hah," I said. "_Then_ they found the big strike." + +"Exactly." + +"And McCann's death?" + +"Accidental." + +"Sure," I said. "What proof have we got?" + +"None. The body is lost in space. And law is few and far between that +far out." + +"So all we've got is this guy Karpin's word for how McCann died, is that +it?" + +"That's all we have. So far." + +"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." + +"Exactly," said Henderson. + + * * * * * + +The copter took me to the spaceport west of Cairo, and there I boarded +the good ship _Demeter_ for Luna City and points Out. I loaded up on +g-sickness pills and they worked fine. I was sick as a dog. + +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. + +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. + +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 _is_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +At any rate, there I was at Atronics City. That was as far as _Demeter_ +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. + + * * * + +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 _lowered_ down to level four, it's being +_pulled_ down. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +The 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Riding _up_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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?" + +"Karpin? Of course. He and old Jafe McCann--pity about McCann. I hear he +got killed." + +"Yes, he did." + +"And that's what you're here for, eh?" He nodded sagely. "I didn't know +the Belt boys could get insurance," he said. + +"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." + +He grinned a bit. "You saw the men sitting outside?" + +I nodded. + +"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." + +"That's appearance," I said. "What I was looking for was personality." + +"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." + +"And Karpin?" I asked him. + +"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 _sharp_." + + * * * + +"Sounds like a good team," I said. + +"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." + +"And they can't collect from Karpin?" + +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." + +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. + +"Oh, Lord, not for a couple of months," he said. "Not since they went +out together the last time and made that strike." + +"Didn't Karpin come in to make his claim?" + +"Not here. Over to Chemisant City. That was the nearest M&R to the +strike." + +"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." + +"You mean, because it happened just after the strike?" + +"That's it," I answered frankly. + +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." + +"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. + +"Any time," he said. He stood and shook hands with me. + +I went back out through the chatting prospectors and crossed the echoing +cavern that was level one, aiming to rent myself a scooter. + + * * * * * + +I don't like rockets. They're noisy as the dickens, they steer hard and +drive erratically, and you can never carry what _I_ would consider a +safe emergency excess of fuel. Nothing like the big steady-g +interplanetary liners. On those I feel almost human. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +[Illustration] + +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. + +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. + + * * * + +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. + +Karpin stood in the middle of the room, a small revolver in his hand. +"Shut the door," he said. + +I obeyed, moving slowly. I didn't want that gun to go off by mistake. + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +"Stanton," I told him. "Ged Stanton, Tangiers Mutual Insurance. I have +identification, but it's in my pants pocket, down inside this suit." + +"Get it," he said. "And move slow." + +"Right you are." + +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." + +"I know that," I told him. "Congratulations for it." + +"Thanks," he said, but he still looked peevish. "You're here about +Jafe's insurance, right?" + +"That I am." + +"Don't want to pay up, I suppose. That doesn't surprise me." + +Blunt old men irritate me. "Well," I said, "we do have to investigate." + +"Sure," he said. "You want some coffee?" + +"Thank you." + +"You can sit in that chair there. That was Jafe's." + +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. + + * * * + +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. + +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. + +"You get used to it," he muttered, which I found hard to believe. + +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." + +"I like it strong," he said. + +I looked around at the room again. "All the comforts of home, eh? Pretty +ingenious arrangement." + +"Sure," he said sourly. "How about getting to the point, Mister?" + +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." + +"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." + +The way Karpin said it, it sounded smooth and natural. _Too_ smooth and +natural. "How did this accident happen anyway?" I asked him. + +"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." + +"So he went out," I said. + +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." + + * * * + +He attacked the coffee again, noisily, and I prompted him, saying, "What +did happen, Mister Karpin?" + +"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." + +"I thought the body was lost," I said. + +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." + +My doubt must have showed in my face, because he added, "Mister, there +isn't enough gravity on this place to shoot craps with." + +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 _some_ gravity on that +planetoid, after all--but I just don't seem to get used to low-gee. + +Nevertheless, I still had some more questions. "Didn't you try to get +his body back? Couldn't you have reached him?" + +"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'd_ go floating away, too." + +"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?" + +"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." + +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 _feeling_ now, +the hunches and instincts of eight years in this job, hearing some +people tell lies and other people tell the truth. + +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. + + * * * + +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. + +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. + +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?" + +Karpin shook his head. "He never got a chance. He spent all his time +dancing, up till he went and killed himself." + +"So you painted it yourself." + +He nodded. + +"And then you went on into Atronics City and registered your claim, is +that the story?" + +"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." + +"You said Chemisant City was closer to you _then_," I said. "Isn't it +now?" + +"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." + +"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?" + +He shook his head. "He was long out of sight by then," he said. "That +was ten, eleven hours later, when I took off." + +"Why's that? All you had to do was paint the X and take off." + +"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 _drunk_." + +"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?" + +"Help yourself," he said, in a pretty poor attempt at genial +hospitality. "You can sleep over, if you want." + +"Fine," I said. "I think I'd like that." + +"You wouldn't happen to play cribbage, would you?" he asked, with the +first real sign of animation I'd seen in him yet. + +"I learn fast," I told him. + +"Okay," he said. "I'll teach you." And he produced a filthy deck of +cards and taught me. + + * * * * * + +After 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." + +"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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * + +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. + +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--_anywhere_--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. + +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. + +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 _was_ 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. + +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. + +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. + + * * * * * + +Karpin 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Karpin spoke up. "Wish you wouldn't smoke. Makes it tough on the +conditioner." + +"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. + + * * * + +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. _Karpin_ 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 _not_ know it. + +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 _ever_ find it. + +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. + +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? + +The sun, of course. + +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 _around_ the sun, and would +come back to the asteroids every few hundred years. No, he would aim +McCann _back_, 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 _fall_ into the sun. + +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. + +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. + +So that killed that idea. + +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. + +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." + +"Such as what?" he demanded. + +"Such as the timing of McCann's cash-return form." + +"I already explained that," he said. + +"I know. You've explained everything." + +"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." + +He was so blasted sure of himself. "It would seem that way," I said. + +"What other odd items you worried about?" he asked me, in a rusty +attempt at sarcasm. + +"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." + +"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." + +"I guess you're doing pretty well without McCann," I said. + +His angry expression was replaced by one of bewilderment. "What do you +mean?" + +"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." + +"I know what's mine," he mumbled, and turned away. He went back to +scrubbing the stove coils again. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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-- + +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. + +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!" + +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. + + * * * + +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. + +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." + +He knew I had him, but he tried not to show it. "What are you talking +about? McCann's dead." + +"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." + +"You're babbling," he snapped, but the words were hollow. + +"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 _become_ Ab Karpin, and it would be Jafe McCann who +was dead, and the debts dead with him." + +"That's a lie," he said, his voice getting shrill. "_I'm_ Ab Karpin, and +I've got papers to prove it." + +"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 +_that_, you filled out a cash-return form and tried to collect your +money as your own heir. _That's_ 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." + +"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." + +"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?" + +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. + +_Two_ 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. + +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. + + * * * + +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. + +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; _that's_ +when he made his mistake. + +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? + +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. + +I prodded that suit with my toe. "He's in there, isn't he?" + +"You're crazy." + +"Think I should open it up and check? It's been almost a month, you +know. I imagine he's pretty ripe by now." + +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!" + +I relaxed. Mission accomplished. "Crawl into your suit, little man," I +said. "We've got ourselves a trip to make, the three of us." + + * * * * * + +Henderson, as usual, was jovial but stern. "You did a fine job up there, +Ged," he said, with false familiarity. "Really brilliant work." + +"Thank you very much," I said. I was holding the last piece of news for +a minute or two, relishing it. + +"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." + +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. + +"A vacation?" he echoed, eyes widening. Henderson was a company man, a +_real_ 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." + +"That's what you think, Henny," I said. + +All he could do at that was blink. + +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." + +"Ged," he said, his voice faint, "what's the matter with you? Don't you +feel well?" + +"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?" + +Henderson nodded blankly, apparently not trusting himself to speak. + +"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 _Ab Karpin_ instead. Jafe McCann +_never did make a legal registration of his claim_." + +Henderson just looked fish-eyed. + +"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?" + +He didn't move. + +"Goodbye," I said. + + +THE END + + +[Illustration] + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from _Amazing Stories_ 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. + + + + + +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.txt or 27089.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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