Forbidden Planets Read Free Page B

for those who were experiencing the unsought hospitality of the Archonate Bureau of Scrutiny. “I expect we will have this business concluded before they tip him back onto the streets.”
    “That is good,” said Warrigrove.
    “Indeed.” Imbry briskly abraded one plump palm against its brother. “Very well, let us defer questions of what and why and where. Let us instead deal with how much .”
    “Ah,” said Warrigrove, “on that score, feel free to let your imagination soar.”
     
    Luff Imbry could scale the heights of passion when entertaining the prospect of his own enrichment. He believed that life, at least his life, was not meant to be an exercise in self-stinting. As he made his way from Warrigrove’s, satchel in hand, he allowed himself to indulge in some pleasantly fanciful speculations as to just how much fatter the mysterious object might make his purse. Thus distracted he failed to notice the sleek black volante that was shadowing him at rooftop height on a tranquil residential street until it silently dropped to block his way. The dark hemisphere of energy that shielded its passenger compartment was extinguished, and Imbry found himself under the hard stare of Alwinder Mudgeram.
    “I have been looking for you,” Mudgeram said. “I have left messages.”
    “I do not seem to have received them.”
    The aircar’s operator’s door opened, and out stepped a man almost as large as Dain Ganche, with a tattooed face and shoulders like small hills.
    “Good day, Ip,” said Imbry. Everyone always greeted Mudgeram’s assistant with studied politeness, although Imbry had never heard of anyone having received more than a silent nod in acknowledgment.
    “Let me offer you a ride,” Mudgeram said and gestured to the empty seat beside him.
    Ip reached for Imbry’s arm with a hand whose fingers had been augmented with subtle but strong components. His grip caused the limb to go numb as the fat man was half lifted into the vehicle. The energy dome reestablished itself, and Imbry felt the seat cushion push against him as they went aloft.
    “There is this matter of the funds I advanced you,” said Mudgeram. “I was promised a profit to make the senses swim; instead, I suffered a complete loss.”
    “There were risks to the venture. They were disclosed.”
    “I remember a brief allusion to a remote possibility. Much more attention was devoted to the expected windfall. Pictures were painted, vistas laid out, all bedecked with boundless gain.”
    “Without enthusiasm, there would be no ventures at all.”
    “I have developed a new enthusiasm,” Mudgeram said. “I now pursue grim satisfaction with the same zeal I formerly reserved for your scheme.”
    “That may be not good for you,” Imbry said.
    “It will definitely be ‘not good’ for some.”
    They had flown high above the city, heading west, and now cruised high above the chill waters of Mornedy Sound. The wave-rippled surface far below resembled the wrinkled hide of some great cold-blooded beast. Mudgeram invited his passenger to look down and envision a sequence of events that would end with Imbry entering the sea at high speed.
    “Your funds went to acquire necessary materials for the plan,” Imbry said. He had purchased minor artworks dating from the antique period in which his intended forgery would appear to have been created. The purchased works were broken down into their constituent elements, then reordered into a painting in the style of Bazieri, a grandmaster of the same age whose lifetime oeuvre had been scant. A newly discovered work by the ancient artist would have drawn collectors from at least thirty of the Ten Thousand Worlds along The Spray, each trailing funds like a pecuniary comet.
    “Who could have foreseen that a vault full of unknown Bazieris would turn up in an attic?” It turned out that the artist had for years paid his rent with masterpieces that to the landlord were no more than pleasant daubs. By the time