Universe Twister - Keith Laumer [129]
"I still got it from Rodolpho," Lafayette said hotly. "He gave it to me as a safe-conduct for a mission I undertook for him."
"You'll have to think up a better story," Flimbert said. "That ring wouldn't get you through a schoolboy patrol line."
"Say," Roy put in, "maybe he meant to give you the ducal signet—I saw him wearing it when we were dickering. It's got a ruby, too, with a big RR carved on it. Maybe he grabbed the wrong one. How was the light?"
"Wet, as I recall," Lafayette said. "Look, gentlemen, we're wasting time. Now that the misunderstanding is cleared up, if I could have my clothes back, I'll be on my way—"
"Not so fast, you!" Pinchcraft said. "We have methods of dealing with those who renege on the solemn fine print in a contract!"
"Then see Krupkin, he's the one who signed it."
"He has a point," Pinchcraft said. "Krupkin, as contracting party, is ultimately responsible. This fellow is merely an accessory."
"What's the penalty for that?"
"Much less severe," Flimbert said grudgingly. "Only one hundred years on the treadmill."
"Hey, that's a break, hey, Slim?" Roy congratulated him.
"I'm overwhelmed," Lafayette said. "Look, fellows, couldn't we work something out? A suspended sentence, maybe?"
"Hey, maybe we could give him a feat to perform," Roy proposed. "We got a couple lines of hand-painted neckties that ain't been moving. Maybe he could go on the road with 'em—"
"This is all wrong!" O'Leary protested. "Krupkin is the one behind this—I'm just an innocent bystander. And I think he's also behind the Lady Andragorre's kidnapping."
"That's no concern of ours."
"Maybe not—but I thought you had dire penalties for anybody who tinkered with your products."
"Hmmm." Flimbert fingered his nose. "We do, at that."
"Listen," O'Leary said urgently. "If Krupkin could convert a personal signaler to a spy-eye, why couldn't you rewire the ring to reverse the action?"
"Eh?"
"Rig it so that instead of relaying sounds from the vicinity of the ring back to Krupkin, it would transmit sounds from Krupkin to you."
Pinchcraft frowned. "Possibly. Possibly." He signaled for silence, lifted the cup. Holding the ring in the light, he went to work. The others watched silently as he probed inside the case, murmuring " . . . wire B to Contact D . . . conductor E to remitter X . . . red . . . blue . . . green . . ." After ten minutes, he said "Ha!," closed the back of the ring, and held it to his ear. He smiled broadly.
"I can hear him," he said. "No doubt this ring is tuned to its twin, which Krupkin keeps on his person." He handed the ring to Flimbert.
"Ummm. That's his voice, all right."
"Well—what's he saying?" O'Leary demanded.
"He's singing. Something about a road to Mandalay."
"Let me listen." Flimbert gave him the ring; he held it to his ear: " . . . Bloomin' idol made of mu-ud . . . what they called the great god Buddd . . ." The words came indistinctly through the sound of running water. Lafayette frowned. The voice seemed to have a half-familiar note. Abruptly, the singing cut off. Lafayette heard a faint tapping, followed by a muttered curse, footsteps, the sound of a door opening.
"Well?" the voice that had been singing said testily.
"Highness . . . the pris—that is to say, your guest declines to join you for breakfast—with, ah, appropriate apologies, of course."
"Blast the wench, can't she see I'm trying to make her comfortable, nothing more? And don't bother lying to me, Haunch. That little baggage doesn't know the meaning of the word 'apology.' She's done nothing but stamp her foot and make demands since the moment she arrived. I tell you, there are times when I wonder if it's worth all the maneuvering involved, trying to set up shop as a benevolent despot."