Universe Twister - Keith Laumer [131]
O'Leary raised an eyebrow, pursed his lips.
"You'll have the best equipment from our labs," Pinchcraft said quickly. "I'm just finishing up a blackout cloak in your size, as it happens, and—"
"We'll drop you onto a balcony on the main turret of the Glass Tree on a fast one-place rug," Flimbert chimed in. "The trip won't take an hour."
"Are you out of your minds?" O'Leary demanded. "My only chance would be to sneak up after dark and try for an unlocked door."
"Not with this on!" Pinchcraft hopped from his stool, grabbed up a long, red-lined green-velvet cape from a worktable, and swirled it around himself. The heavy fabric whirled, shimmered—and disappeared, along with the small technician.
"Huh?" O'Leary said.
"Not bad, eh?" Pinchcraft's voice spoke from the emptiness where he had stood a moment before.
"M-magic?" Lafayette stuttered.
"Nonsense. Electronics." Pinchcraft's face appeared, framed by nothingness. "Well, how about it?"
O'Leary forced the astounded look from his face.
"Well—I might go," he said, "provided you make that a two-man rug."
"Whatever you want, Slim," Roy spoke up. "For a volunteer hero like you, nothing but the best!"
"Don't worry, we'll get you in," Pinchcraft said.
"And out again?" O'Leary countered.
"One thing at a time," Flimbert said. "Come along, fellow, let's get you fitted out. I want you inside the Glass Tree by sundown."
Eight
It was late afternoon, Lafayette saw, when Sprawnroyal led him along a twisting passage to a double door opening on a tiny balcony overlooking the vast sweep of the valley below.
"Now, you want to be careful of the carpet, Slim," the Customer Relations man said as he rolled out the six-by-eight-foot rectangle of what looked like ordinary dark-blue Wilton carpet. "The circuits are tuned to your personal emanations, so nobody can hijack her. She's voice-operated, so be careful what you say. And remember, there's no railings, so watch those banked turns. The coordination's built in, naturally, but if you're careless—well, keep in mind you've got no parachute."
"That's all very encouraging," Lafayette said, adjusting the hang of the blackout cloak and fighting down a quivering sensation in his stomach. "With all this gear Pinchcraft loaded on me, I feel as maneuverable as a garbage scow."
"Frankly, he sees this as a swell chance to field-test a lot of the offbeat items he and his boys cook up on those long winter nights. Like the sneeze generator: top management wouldn't let him call for volunteers, even. And the flatwalker: it's a dandy idea, but if it doesn't work—blooie! There goes your research worker and a big chunk of lab."
"Fill me in with a little more data, and the flight is off," O'Leary said. "Just point me in the right direction before common sense overwhelms my instinct for making mistakes."
"Just steer due west, Slim. You can't miss it."
"You'd be amazed at some of the things I've missed," Lafayette said. "By the way, my name's not really Slim, you know. It's Lafayette O'Leary."
"Yeah? Say, that's a coincidence—but never mind that. Bon voyage, kid, and don't forget to flip the switch before you drop the bug in the target's pocket."
"Well," Lafayette said, easing into a sitting position on the dark rug, legs folded. "Here goes . . ."
He closed his eyes, thought about the coordinates Flimbert had drilled him in for half an hour. Under him, the thick wool nap seemed to vibrate minutely. He resisted an impulse to grab for support as the rug stirred, twitched, tightened; forced himself to sit limply.
"Like a sack of potatoes," he reminded himself while sweat ran down behind his head. "A big burlap bag of good old Idaho baking potatoes . . ."
The tugging, swaying sensation went on; a breeze that had sprung up blew gustily at him, riffling his hair, making the cloak flap.
"Come on, lift!" he hissed. "Before that Flimbert sharpy realizes they've been conned!"
Nothing changed. The wind whipped briskly about him; the rug felt passive under him.
"Oh, great," Lafayette said. "I should have