Universe Twister - Keith Laumer [218]
"All right—let's not fall out over a jurisdictional dispute." Lafayette adjusted the cloak to cover as much as possible of his grimy silk shirt and baggy satin trousers. In a desk drawer he found the keys to the heavy grate that barred the passage. They lifted it, occasioning a dismal groan of rusty metal, eased under, lowered it back in position. Ten feet farther, the passage branched.
"Which way?" Lom wondered aloud. "I confess I have no sense of direction."
"Come on," O'Leary said, leading the way toward a steep flight of stone stairs. At the top, a cross passage led two ways.
"To the left," Lafayette hissed. "We have to pass the squad room, so take it easy."
"How does it happen," Lom whispered, "that you know your way well?"
"I did time down here the first week I was in Artesia. And since then I've been down a few times to visit friends."
"Hmmm. You know, my boy, at times I'm tempted to believe your story . . ."
"Whether you believe it or not, we're in this together. Now let's go before we're arrested for loitering." Lafayette advanced stealthily, risked a peek into the room. Three harquebusiers were seated around a table spooning up beans, their shirts unbuttoned, their floppy hats laid aside, their rapiers dangling from wooden pegs on the wall. One of the trio looked up; his eyes met O'Leary's.
"Yeah," he barked. "Who youse looking for?"
"Roy," Lafayette said promptly. "He said it was a hurry-up call."
"Shorty ain't on until six pee em. A hurry up call, hey? You must be the vet."
"Right," Lafayette improvised as the man rose and sauntered toward him, hitching at his purple-and-green suspenders. The cop eyed O'Leary's tool bag, prodded it with a thick finger.
"What's a vet doing wit' a bunch o' pipe wrenches?" he demanded. "And hack saws, yet. Youse ain't planning a jail break?" He grinned widely at the jape.
"Actually, we do a bit of plumbing on the side," O'Leary said. "We're combination animal doctors and plumbers, you see."
"Yeah?" the cop scratched the back of his thick neck. He yawned. "Well, if you can fix old George's plumbing, Jemimiah'll be your friend fer life." He guffawed, cleared his throat, spat, and gave Lom a suspicious look.
"Ain't I see youse before, Pops?"
"Not unless you've been down with an attack of goat fever, Junior," the old man snapped. "And don't call me Pops."
"Well, we'd better be getting along," Lafayette said hastily. "Actually, it was a leaky faucet we were after. In the tower, Roy said. So—"
"Nix, Bub. Nobody goes up inna tower. Off limits, like. Quarantine."
"Yes. Well, Roy's point was that the drip was annoying the patient—"
"What patient? There ain't no patient inna tower. They're all in the Royal Apartment wing."
"The patient fellows on duty there, I was about to say," O'Leary recovered nimbly. "Just imagine pulling four on and four off with a leaky faucet going drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip . . ."
"Yeah, yeah—I get the idear. Well—as long as it's fer the boys. I'll send Clarence here along wit' youse." The NCO beckoned to a slack-faced loon with unevenly focused eyes.
"That's all right, Lieutenant, we can find it—" Lafayette started; but the cop cut him off with a curt gesture.
"Nobody don't go inna tower wit'out he got a escort," he stated firmly.
"Well—in that case," O'Leary conceded the point. Clarence pulled on his coat, strapped on his sword, gave O'Leary a vague look and stood waiting.
"You, uh, kind of got to tell Clarence what to do," the NCO said to Lafayette behind his hand. "Like, in detail, if you know what I mean."
"Let's go, Clarence," Lafayette said. "To the tower."
3
In the courtyard, bright with the late-afternoon sun, Lom overtook O'Leary. "When are we going to dispose of this cretin and make our escape?" he whispered.
"Change of plan," Lafayette murmured. "Getting Clarence was a big break. With an escort we can go where we want to."
"Have you lost your wits? Our only chance is to get clear of this place, and regroup!"
"Let's face it: we'd never get past the gate."
"But—what can you hope