Nindrandigro, in oneof his master's evening suits, emerged. Salgath Trod waited until theyhad gone down the hall to the antigrav shaft, and then he turned onthe visiphone, checked the security, set it for sealed beamcommunication, and punched out a combination.
A girl in a green tunic looked out of the screen.
"Paratime Police," she said. "Office of Chief Tortha."
"I am Executive Councilman Salgath Trod," he told her. "I am, and forthe past fifteen years have been, criminally involved with theorganization responsible for the slave trade which recently came tolight on Third Level Esaron. I give myself up unconditionally; I amwilling to make full confession under narco-hypnosis, and will acceptwhatever disposition of my case is lawfully judged fit. You'll have tosend an escort for me; I might start from my apartment alone, but I'dbe killed before I got to your headquarters--"
The girl, who had begun to listen in the bored manner of publicservants phone girls, was staring wide-eyed.
"Just a moment, Councilman Salgath; I'll put you through to ChiefTortha."
* * * * *
The dinner lacked a half hour of being served; Thalvan Dras' guestsloitered about the drawing room, sampling appetizers and chilleddrinks and chatting in groups. It wasn't the artistic crowd usual atThalvan Dras' dinners; most of the guests seemed to be business orpolitical people. Thalvan Dras had gotten Vall and Dalla into thesmall group around him, along with pudgy, infantile-faced BrogothZaln, his confidential secretary, and Javrath Brend, his financialattorney.
"I don't see why they're making such a fuss about it," one of theBanking Cartel people was saying. "Causing a lot of public excitementall out of proportion to the importance of the affair. After all,those people were slaves on their own time line, and if anything,they're much better off on the Esaron Sector than they would be ascaptives of the Croutha. As far as that goes, what's the differencebetween that and the way we drag these Fourth Level PrimitiveSector-Complex people off to Fifth Level Service Sector to work forus?"
"Oh, there's a big difference, Farn," Javrath Brend said. "We recruitthose Fourth Level Primitives out of probability worlds of Stone Agesavagery, and transpose them to our own Fifth Level time lines,practically outtime extensions of the Home Time Line. There'sabsolutely no question of the Paratime Secret being compromised."
]
"Beside, we need a certain amount of human labor, for tasks requiringoriginal thought and decision that are beyond the ability of robots,and most of it is work our Citizens simply wouldn't perform," ThalvanDras added.
"Well, from a moral standpoint, wouldn't these Esaron Sector peoplewho buy the slaves justify slavery in the same terms?" a woman whomVall had identified as a Left Moderate Council Member asked.
"There's still a big difference," Dalla told her. "The ServSec Prolesaren't beaten or tortured or chained; we don't break up families orseparate friends. When we recruit Fourth Level Primitives, we takewhole tribes, and they come willingly. And--"
One of Thalvan Dras' black-liveried human servants, of the class underdiscussion, approached Vall.
"A visiphone call for your lordship," he whispered. "Chief Tortha Karfcalling. If your lordship will come this way--"
In a screen-booth outside, Vall found Tortha Karf looking out of thescreen; he was seated at his desk, fiddling with a gold multicolorpen.
"Oh, Vall; something interesting has just come up." He spoke in avoice of forced calmness. "I can't go into it now, but you'll want tohear about it. I'm sending a car for you. Better bring Dalla along;she'll want in on it, too."
"Right; we'll be on the top south-west landing stage in a fewminutes."
Dalla was still heatedly repudiating any resemblance between thenormal First Level methods of labor-recruitment and the activities ofthe Wizard Traders; she had just finished the story of the woman whosechild had been brained when Vall rejoined the group.
"Dras, I'm awfully sorry," he said. "This is the second time insuccession that Dalla and I have had to bolt away from here, butpolicemen are like doctors--always on call, and consequentlyunreliable guests. While you're feasting, think commiseratingly ofDalla and me; we'll probably be having a sandwich and a cup of coffeesomewhere."
"I'm terribly sorry." Thalvan Dras replied. "We had all been lookingforward--Well! Brogoth, have a car called for Vall and Dalla."
"Police car coming for us; it's probably on the landing stage now,"Vall said. "Well, good-by, everybody. Coming, Dalla?"
* * * * *
They had a few minutes to wait, under the marquee, before the greenpolice aircar landed and came rolling across the rain-wet surface ofthe landing stage. Crossing to it and opening the rear door, he putDalla in and climbed in after her, slamming the door. It was only thenthat he saw Tortha Karf hunched down in the rear seat. He motionedthem to silence, and did not speak until the car was rising above thebuilding.
"I wanted to fill you in on this, as soon as possible," he said. "Yourhunch about Salgath Trod was good; just a few minutes before I calledyou, he called me. He says this slave trade is the work of somethinghe calls the Organization; says he's been taking orders from them foryears. His attack on the Management and motion for a censure-votewere dictated from Organization top echelon. Now he's convinced thatthey're going to force him to make false accusations against theParatime Police and then kill him before he's compelled to repeat hischarges under narco-hypnosis. So he's offered to surrender and tradeinformation for protection."
"How much does he know?" Vall asked.
Tortha Karf shook his head. "Not as much as he claims to, I suppose;he wouldn't want to reduce his own trade-in value. But he's beeninvolved in this thing for the last fifteen years, and with hispolitical prominence, he'd know quite a lot."
"We can protect him from his own gang; can we protect him frompsycho-rehabilitation?"
"No, and he knows it. He's willing to accept that. He seems to thinkthat death at the hands of his own associates is the only otheralternative. Probably right, too."
The floodlighted green towers of the Paratime Building were wheelingunder them as they circled down.
"Why would they sacrifice a valuable accomplice like Salgath Trod, inorder to make a transparently false accusation against us?" Vallwondered.
"Ha, that's our new rookie cop's idea!" Tortha Karf chuckled, noddingtoward Dalla. "We got Zortan Harn to introduce an urgent-businessmotion to appoint a committee to investigate BuPsychHyg, this morning.The motion passed, and this is the reaction to it. The Organization'sscared. Just as Dalla predicted, they don't want us finding out howpeople with potentially criminal characteristics missed being spottedby psychotesting. Salgath Trod is being sacrificed to block or delaythat."
Vall nodded as the wheels bumped on the landing stage and the antigravfield went off. That was the sort of thing that happened when youstarted on a really fruitful line of investigation. They got out andhurried over under the marquee, the car lifting and moving off towardthe hangars. This was the real break; no matter how this Organizationmight be compartmented, a man like Salgath Trod would know a greatdeal. He would name names, and the bearers of those names, arrestedand narco-hypnotized, would name other names, in a perfect chainreaction of confessions and betrayals.
Another police car had landed just ahead of them, and three men wereclimbing out; two were in Paratime Police green, and the third,hand-cuffed, was in Service Sector Proletarian garb. At first, Vallthough that Salgath Trod had been brought in disguised as a Proleprisoner, and then he saw that the prisoner was short and stocky, notat all like the slender and elegant politician. The two officers whohad brought him in were talking to a lieutenant, Sothran Barth,outside the antigrav shaft kiosk. As Vall and Tortha Karf and Dallawalked over, the car which had brought them lifted out.
"Something that just came in from Industrial Twenty-four, Chief,"Lieutenant Sothran said in answer to Tortha Karf's question. "May befor Assistant Verkan's desk."
"He's a Prole named Yandragno, sir,"
one of the policemen said."Industrial Sector Constabulary grabbed him peddling Martian hellweedcigarettes to the girls in a textile mill at Kangabar Equivalent.Captain Jamzar thinks he may have gotten them from somebody in theOrganization."
* * * * *
A little warning bell began ringing in the back of Verkan Vall's mind,but at first he could not consciously identify the cause of hissuspicions. He looked the two policemen and their prisoner overcarefully, but could see nothing visibly wrong with them. Then anothercar came in for a landing and rolled over