Mission Earth Volume 9: Villainy Victorious

by L. Ron Hubbard

  He got up and went into another room which seemed to have a complex array of vaults and returned carrying a small bag of silk which he laid on his desk, and resumed his seat.

  “In that haul, there was one stone I never could get rid of. I never even dared show it. I couldn’t say I had found it in a stream bed because it was already cut. And I warn you that the moment it appears on the market, questions will be asked, because it is too remarkable. If it fits your purposes, here it is.”

  He opened the bag by laying out its sides and there, blazing on the silk, was a jewel the size of an egg. Madison moved closer. He could not credit what he saw. He blinked.

  “I don’t know how the ancients did it,” said Baub. “And I don’t know if it is natural or artificial. But you are looking at an emerald totally enclosed in a diamond. The emerald is top color and has only one flaw. The diamond is a perfect blue-white. And I can’t sell you this unless you can absolutely guarantee that where it came from can be totally explained by you.”

  “I can guarantee that,” said Madison. “How would you mount it?”

  “It’s too big to be anything but a crown jewel or a pendant. Following my suddenly invented name, I’d say one might put it in an oval setting, the stone held in gold like open eyelids with strings of little diamond chips to look like eyelashes above and below, and we hang it on a broad chain of gold net. It’s heavy, you know. Feel it.”

  Madison said, “Can you put it on the front of a net gold cap so it looks like it’s in the middle of a forehead?”

  “Wow,” said Flick. “What a blazer that would be!”

  “How long to make it up?” said Madison. “I want it fast.”

  “Oh, I could put the old man on it. Gold net is easy to weave. Two days.”

  “All right,” said Madison. “Now what’s the price?”

  “Oh,” said Baub, looking shifty, “it’s a momento of my lost youth. Say a hundred thousand credits.”

  Madison translated it to dollars. There never had been a stone worth two million that he knew of. An actor named Richard Burton had given an actress named Liz Taylor one of the fanciest stones on Earth, and though he had only read about it, he thought it had only been about a million and a half. And he wasn’t going to use any identoplate for this transaction. Too risky.

  Flick, however, saved him. “Oh, Cousin Baub, I thought you were a friend. You know very well you’ve never been able to get rid of this, and here I bring you a customer and you drive him out of the shop with a club. You don’t even have to give me the ten percent I always get on purchases I make for him. We’ll give you five thousand credits and that’s the lot.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” said Baub.

  “Listen, Baub,” said Flick. “I’m family. Remember?”

  Baub sighed. “Not a credit less than thirty-five thousand! Plus the setting and cap.”

  “Thirty thousand with the setting and cap,” said Flick.

  “NO!” said Baub.

  “Twenty thousand,” said Flick.

  “NO! NO!” cried Baub. “You just offered thirty thousand!”

  “Bought,” said Flick. “Give him the money, Chief.”

  Shortly afterwards, walking back to the airbus, still ably defended by the footwoman, Madison said, “I didn’t know you got ten percent of everything I spent!”

  Flick said, “Runs me ragged going back to collect it. And I just saved you seventy thousand credits, so you see I’m worth it. But on this present deal, I’m not taking any commission. I won’t do anything crooked on anything connected to Hightee Heller. She’s sacred! ‘Eye of the Goddess’—that suits her perfectly! Now I’m actually beginning to believe that I WILL get to meet her personally!”

  Madison grinned as he got in. “The Eye of the Goddess” wasn’t all he had planned for Hightee Heller.

  PART SEVENTY-FIVE

  Chapter 7

  Two days later, Madison was on his way to see Hightee Heller. Flick had barbered and bathed himself almost down to the bone. He had polished the Model 99 until, another criminal had said, the angels on its four corners screamed. He had sternly left the footwoman home. One would have thought he was engaged in the greatest adventure of his life: he kept bubbling.

  Madison hoped that he himself looked all right. He missed being in a neat Earth lounge suit, his fighting uniform. He had chosen a steel-gray business tunic and pants, devoid of any ornament, but the very shimmer of it said it cost a fortune. The sleeves, being a pointed cuff, had worried him: they might brush things off tables unexpectedly. Accordingly, he had practiced for half an hour reaching for things. He had fluffed his hair, had put just a touch of glitter in it and then brushed it until it shone. He had practiced his most engaging and ingenuous smile before a mirror for over an hour.

  But that was not all the preparation he had done. He had had the horror-story writer sweating for a whole day and a night. One of the reporters had been expelled from the Royal Academy of Art and could write a little poetry.

  Madison’s own musical background should have been extensive but was not. His mother had planned, when he was eight, that he should have a career as a concert pianist. He had been labored over by numerous teachers until he was twelve, at which time the last one, like his predecessors all had, found Madison playing ragtime when he should have been memorizing a concerto of an austere classic nature. The man had whipped him soundly. His mother wouldn’t stand for that, the man had been fired out of hand and Madison had finished his musical career with a sore bottom. He only hoped he could remember enough not to make some awful, gauche slip. He would be talking to a very accomplished musician. Details, in such an extensive caper as this, were everything.

  He had gotten his appointment very smoothly. A house clerk had answered her viewer-phone at her home in Pausch Hills. Madison had told him that he had a message from Hightee’s brother, Jettero Heller.

  The clerk had relayed the fact and a background voice—Hightee’s—had said, “Does he know where Jettero is? I’d surely love to find out.”

  Madison knew at once that Hightee did not know. He went at once, smoothly, into the second phase of his plan to locate Heller-Wister for Lombar, after which he would get into his image-building.

  “Tell your mistress I can’t give her the message over the phone: her brother ordered me to give it personally. I am an Apparatus officer on detached duty to Homeview. My name is J. Walter Madison.”

  He promptly got his appointment for one o’clock, and here he was, flying in through a warm sun to land on the rooftop estate of Hightee Heller.

  He was impressed! The estate looked like it comprised several acres that rested high in the air, crowning an elegant building. One could see for miles and miles from such an aerie; the view was not even blocked by neighboring buildings and looked down on other lovely estates. A place for the angels, even unto a wisp of wandering cloud! At least that was what Flick was crooning as he put the Model 99 down on the roof target. He was very disappointed to see a house clerk in black awaiting them instead of Hightee.

  “The lady is expecting you,” the clerk said. “She is in the summerhouse. I will escort you.”

  Madison sternly told Flick to stay by the car and followed the black-suited man down a curving path. The first thing that struck Madison was that the trees were full of songbirds trilling their hearts out in melodies and harmonies.

  “However do you keep the birds in?” he asked the clerk.

  At that moment two birds of gorgeous plumage swept down and inspected the briefcase Madison was carrying and then fluttered accusingly in front of his face.

  “It’s not a matter of keeping them IN,” said the clerk. “It’s a matter of never being able to drive them away. They sometimes hear the music from the oratory and they come for miles around to sing with Hightee. And they always fly with her when she takes her walks.”

  What struck Madison was the total absence of guards. This clerk didn’t even have a telltale bulge in his close-fitting black
coat. They hadn’t even asked for an identoplate on landing, or now. He could be anybody, even an assassin. Nobody had even asked to look in his briefcase. Very, very lax. And it might be very useful.

  He had to make sure. “Don’t you have guards and security and things?” he asked. “It makes me nervous for her.”

  The clerk snorted. “Lady Hightee has fifteen billion fans who would tear anyone to pieces if she was hurt. And who would touch the sister of the hero of the Fleet, Jettero Heller? Only a madman would so much as frown at Lady Hightee, and it is very plain you are not one of those.”

  So there was no security, Madison filed away.

  They came to the summerhouse, a grill of golden lattices through which the summer sun splashed in gentle patterns.

  She had been working at a table with a sheet of music, probably memorizing a lyric. She came forward to the door, hand outstretched in welcome.

  Madison flinched. He had never in his life seen such a beautiful woman. She was wearing a casual artist’s smock of shimmering green. Her hair was the color of Heller’s but it was fluffed into a glowing halo. Her eyes were an electric blue that made you feel very warm. The presence of her was an aura that seemed to make the day go brighter.

  Madison came out of his shock, took the hand, bent over it to kiss it but the touch of her on his palm almost paralyzed him. Oh, yes, indeed, this was Hightee Heller. Even the three dimensions of Homeview screens couldn’t begin to do her justice. For an instant he thought he was going to kneel despite himself.

  Still bent over the golden fingernails, he summoned up his most engaging and ingenuous smile. He was very glad he had practiced it. The presence of this woman had almost knocked him flat and gawping. In fact, for the barest, fleeting instant, out of pure admiration for her, he had qualms at going forward with his plans. But he recovered quickly.

  She was graciously waving him to a seat as she resumed her own swinging chair. As soon as she had sat down, Madison perched himself on the edge of the indicated armchair. He wished those patches of sunlight didn’t make her glow. It made it difficult to proceed.

  But Madison held on to his smile. “Forgive me for seeming so much at home, but Jettero has spoken of you to me so often, I feel that I know you.”

  She smiled. “Oh, Jettero and I have always been close. He is such a wonderful person.”

  “One of the finest fellows that ever lived,” said Madison.

  “Probably the finest and most honorable man alive,” said Hightee.

  “A prince among princes,” said Madison. “I bless the day when he honored me with his friendship.”

  “You know him well, then?” said Hightee.

  “Oh, intimately,” said Madison. “It often makes me feel humble when he tells me how much he trusts me. How heartening it is, when all else is black, to know that one has such a dear friend as Jettero. I don’t know what I would do without him.”

  “I have always felt,” said Hightee, “how fortunate I was to have a brother like that.”

  “And such a future!” said Madison.

  “There isn’t a young officer in the Fleet that doesn’t try to emulate him,” said Hightee.

  “Oh, he will rise to the top,” said Madison. “Inevitable success.”

  “His superiors swear by him,” said Hightee.

  “I am sure he will achieve universal renown,” said Madison. “In fact, he deserves everything that can be done for him.”

  “Indeed he does,” said Hightee. “Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve felt more confident in life knowing he was there. I’ve always felt I was one of the luckiest girls alive to be his sister.”

  “And I have felt I was one of the luckiest fellows alive to be his friend,” said Madison.

  “You really have a message from him?” said Hightee, eagerly.

  “It’s more interesting than just that,” said Madison. “In fact, he made me swear on my honor that I would not fail to see you personally and give you this present from him.”

  He opened up his briefcase and removed a large jewelry box and said, “From your brother with his love.” And he handed it to her with a bow.

  She opened it. The sunlight hit it and it hit back, breaking the light into a thousand colored pieces. Sitting in its new setting, nestled into the gold net cap, the jewel quite took her breath away. She had never seen anything like it: an emerald inside a perfect diamond.

  She put it on and the jewel in the center of her forehead drove the sunlight frantic in the summerhouse. She took up a small mirror and looked. Then she took it off and gazed at it. When the pulse in her lovely throat slowed down, she gazed at Madison. “Where could he have possibly acquired it? It must have cost ten years’ pay!”

  “Oh, he didn’t buy it,” said Madison. “It is quite a story. It’s called the ‘Eye of the Goddess’. Jettero is so brave and so commanding that it was presented to him by the Aga Khan when Jettero saved the life of his son.”

  “Oh!” said Hightee. “Tell me!”

  “Well, Jettero made so little of it that he did not give me many details. He never brags.”

  “How like him,” said Hightee.

  “But it was headlines in all the newssheets. The son of the Aga Khan was on a tiger hunt—that is a very dangerous beast—and Jettero happened to be flying by and pulled the Aga Khan’s son right out of the jaws of the tiger, barehanded.”

  “Oh! How dangerous!”

  “Well, Jettero is nothing if not the most courageous fellow alive. But you know, he is so modest, I’ll wager when you see him he won’t even mention the exploit. Probably just laugh and say it never happened.”

  “That’s my brother. Go on.”

  “He’s so unwilling to take well-earned praise,” continued Madison. “And when the Aga Khan presented him in gratitude with this family heirloom, do you know that Jettero actually blushed? I know. I was right there and saw him myself. He slid it into his pocket and he whispered to me, ‘The only reason I’m not giving this back is because I think Hightee would like it.’”

  “Oh, how sweet.”

  “But that’s Jettero,” said Madison. “He also said, when he made me promise to give it to you directly when I arrived on Voltar, ‘Tell her I won it shooting dice and say it’s a bauble she needn’t even thank me for.’ But I could never bring myself to lie to you. So I have told you the truth. Don’t mention it to him that I did. He’d half kill me!”

  “But good heavens, I have to thank him.”

  “Oh, I thought of that. Wear it on your next Homeview appearance and, without saying how he got it, since that would embarrass him and reveal I had told you the truth, casually mention that the jewel is a gift from your brother Jettero and dedicate your next song to him and all his brother officers of the Fleet. And then sing some song about far places and loved ones at home and then say you don’t know where your brother is and long to hear from him to thank him for the gift. And his brother officers, hearing it, wanting to help you thank him, would tell you where he is now. I’m sure the resulting fan mail would come in in a flood. Any of your fans, let alone his brother officers, would be eager to relieve your anxiety about where your brother is.”

  “Oh, it’s a lovely idea. But you just saw him. Don’t you know where he is?”

  “Alas,” said Madison, shaking his head sadly, “the two of us had a little farewell party for each other. We were going different ways. And it was only after his ship took off that I suddenly realized he had not told me where he was going. But it’s not important that I know. It is only important that any anxiety you have be relieved. So I have written this little card for you that you can use for your lines and you can locate him and send your thanks to him that way.”

  She read the card and the lines. “Why, this is sort of sweet.”

  “And you could let me know as well,” said Madison. “I worry about him. He is too brave. And also, of course, I miss him.”

  “Well, I certainly do thank you,” said Hightee, rising, “for bringing
his gift.”

  Madison rose, too, but he said, “Oh, that isn’t all that I have brought.”

  PART SEVENTY-SIX

  Chapter 1

  Hightee Heller looked at Madison with a bit of wonder. “You mean, after that beautiful gift you brought me from Jettero, you have something else? My, you are a man of surprises. But come, let us stroll a bit: I’ve been sitting all morning.”

  J. Walter Madison hastily grabbed his briefcase and followed her out of the summerhouse. They were instantly accompanied by songbirds.

  The acres of the rooftop estate were artfully landscaped with curving paths and pools and waterfalls and trees so that every few yards, on any path one took, one was looking at a new presentation.