Sixth Column (15 page)

swagger stick and cut savagely at the senior of the two policemen; he

pretended not to see. He walked about a block before he spoke to Howe.

"There! We should have no more trouble for a while."

"How do you figure? You sure got him sore at us."

"That's not the point. We can't afford to have him or any other cop

thinking he can push us around like the others. By the time we have gone

three blocks the word will be all over town that I'm back and to lay off. That's

the way we've got to have it."

"Maybe so. I still think it's dangerous to have the cops on the alert for

us."

"You don't understand," Jeff said impatiently. "There isn't any other safe

way to do it. Cops are cops, no matter what is the color of their skin. They

deal in fear and they understand fear. Once they understand we can't be

touched, that it is very bad medicine to bother us, they'll be as polite to us as

they are to their superiors. You'll see."

"I hope you're right."

"I'm right. Cops are cops. Pretty soon we'll have them on our payroll. Oh,

oh! Watch it, Alec-here comes another one." A PanAsian policeman was

dogtrotting up behind them. However, instead of overtaking them or calling to

them to halt, he crossed over and kept abreast with them on the other side of

the street. He ignored them determinedly.

"What's up, d'you think, Jeff?"

"We're being chaperoned. A good thing, Alec the rest of the monkeys

won't bother us now. We'll just get on with our job. You know this town pretty

well, don't you? Where do you think we ought to locate the temple?"

"I guess that depends on what you are looking for."

"I don't know exactly." He stopped and wiped sweat from his-face; the

robes were hot and the money belt made it worse. "Now that I'm here, this

whole deal seems silly. I guess I wasn't meant to be a secret agent. How

about out in the west end, in the expensive neighborhood? We want to make

a big impression.

"No, I don't think so, Jeff. There are just two kinds of people out in the

rich neighborhoods now."

"Yes?"

"PanAsians and traitors-black market dealers and other sorts of

collaborationists."

Thomas looked shocked. "I guess I've been out of circulation too long.

Alec, until this very minute it never occurred to me that an American-any

American-would go along with the invaders."

"Well, I wouldn't have believed it either, if I hadn't seen it. I guess some

people will do anything, born pimps."

They settled on an empty warehouse downtown near the river in a.

populous, poor neighborhood. The area had long been rundown; now it was

depressed. Three out of four shops were boarded up; trade had stagnated.

The building was one of many empty warehouses; Thomas picked it because

of its almost cubical shape, matching that of the mother temple and the cube

on his staff, and the fact that it was detached from other buildings by an alley

on one side and a vacant lot on the other.

The main door was broken. They peered in, entered and snooped

around. The place was a mess but the plumbing was intact and the walls

were sound. The ground floor was a single room with a twenty foot ceiling

and few pillars; it would do for "worship."

"I think it will do," Jeff decided. A rat jumped out of a pile of rubbish

heaped against one wall. Almost absentmindedly he trained his staff on it; the

animal leaped high and dropped dead. "How do we go about buying it?"

"Americans can't own real estate. We'll have to find out what official

holds the squeeze on it."

"That oughtn't to . be hard." They went outside; their police chaperone

waited across the street. He looked the other way.

The streets were fairly well filled by now, even in this neighborhood.

Thomas reached out and snagged a passing boy -a child of not more than

twelve but with the bitter, knowing eyes of a cynical man. "Peace be unto

you, son.

Who rents this building?"

"Hey, you let go of me!"

"I mean you no harm." He handed the boy one of Scheer's best five

dollar gold pieces.

The boy looked at it, let his eyes slide past them to the Asiatic guard

across the street. The PanAsian did not seem to be watching; the lad caused

the coin to disappear. "Better see Konsky. He has all the angles on things

like that."

"Who is Konsky?"

"Everybody knows Konsky. Say, grandpa, what's the idea of the funny

clothes? The slanties'll make trouble for you."

"I am a priest of the great god Mota. The Lord Mota takes care of his

own. Take us to this Konsky."

"Nothing doing. I don't want to tangle with the slanties." The boy tried to

wriggle away; Jeff held his arm firmly and produced another coin. He did not

hand it over.

"Fear not. The Lord Mota will protect you, too."

The youngster looked at it, glanced around, and said, "Okay. Come

along."

He led them around a corner and to a walk-up office building located

over a saloon. "He's up there if he's in." Jeff gave the boy the second coin

and told him to come see him again, at the warehouse, as the Lord Mota had

gifts for him. Alec questioned the wisdom of this as they climbed the stairs.

"The kid's all right," said Jeff. "Sure, the things that have happened to

him have turned him into a guttersnipe. But he's on our side. He'll advertise

us--and not to the PanAsians."

Konsky turned out to be a blandly suspicious man. It was soon evident

that he "had connections," but he was slow to talk until he saw the red gold

color of money. After that he was not in the least put off by the odd dress and

odd manners of his clients (Thomas gave him the full treatment, with

benedictions thrown in, aware that Konsky would discount it but for the

purpose of staying in character). He made sure of the building Thomas

meant, dickered over the rental and the bribe-he called it "charges for special

services"-and left them.

Thomas and Howe were glad to be left alone. Being a "holy man" had

disadvantages; they had had nothing to eat since leaving the Citadel. Jeff

dug sandwiches out from under his robes; they munched them. Best of all,

there was a washroom adjoining Konsky's office.

Three hours later they were in possession of a document, the English

translation of which stated that the Heavenly Emperor was graciously

pleased to grant to his faithful subjects etc., etc.,-a lease paid up on the

warehouse. In exchange for another unreasonable amount of money Konsky

agreed to stir up enough labor to clean the place at once, that very day, and

to provide certain repairs and materials. Jeff thanked him and with a straight

face invited him to attend the first services to be held in the new temple.

They trudged back to the warehouse. Once out of Konsky's earshot Jeff

said, "Y' know, Alec, we're going to make lots of use of that character-but

when the day comes, well, I've got a little list and he's at the top of it. I mean

to take care of him myself."

"Split him with me," was Howe's only comment.

The street urchin popped up from nowhere when they reached the

warehouse. "Any more errands, grandpa?"

"Bless you, son. Yes, several." After another financial transaction the boy

left to find cots and bedding for them. Jeff watched his departure and said, " I

think I'll make an altar boy out of that lid. He can go places and do things that

we can't-and the cops aren't so likely to stop a person that age."

" I don't think you should trust him."

" I won't. So far as he will ever know we are a couple of crackpots, firmly

convinced that we are priests of the

great god Mota. We can't afford to trust anybody, Alec, until we are sure

of them. Come on let's kill ail the rats in this place before the cleaners get

here. Want me to check the setting on your staff?"

By nightfall the First Temple of Denver of the Lord Mota was a going

concern, even though it still looked like a warehouse and had no

congregation. The place reeked of disinfectant, the rubbish was gone, and

the front door would lock. There were two beds of sorts and groceries

enough to last two men a fortnight.

Their chaperone from the police force was still across the street.

The police guard stayed with them for four days. Twice squads of police

came and searched through the place. Thomas let them; as yet there was

nothing to hide. Their staffs were still their only source of power and the only

Ledbetter communicator they had with them gave Howe a slightly hunchbacked appearance in the day time; he wore it while Thomas wore the

money belt.

In the meantime through Konsky they acquired a fast and powerful

ground car-and permission to drive it, or have it driven, anywhere in the

jurisdiction of the Hand. The "charge for special services" was quite high. The

driver they hired for it was root acquired through Konsky, but indirectly

through Peewee Jenkins, the boy who had helped them on the first day.

The watch was withdrawn from them around noon on the fourth day.

That afternoon Jeff left Howe to hold the place and went back to the Citadel

by car. He returned with Scheer, who looked vastly uncomfortable and out of

character in priestly vestments and beard but who bore with him a cubical

chest enameled in the six sacred colors of Mota. Once inside the warehouse

with the door locked Scheer opened the chest with great care and in a

particular fashion which prevented it from exploding and taking them and the

building with it. He got very busy on the newly constructed "altar." He finished

shortly after midnight; there was more work to do outside, with Thomas and

Howe standing guard, ready to stun or kill if necessary to prevent the

sergeant being interrupted.

The morning sun fell on a front wall of emerald green, the other walls

were red and golden and deep sky blue. The temple of Mota was ready for

converts-and for others.

Most important, none but a Caucasian could now pass through its door

with impunity.

An hour before daylight Jeff posted himself at the door and waited

nervously. The sudden transformation was sure to stir up another search

squad; if necessary he must stop them, stun, or even kill-but no search could

be permitted. He hoped to dissuade; the temple must be established as an

enclave used only by the slave race. But a slight excess of zeal on the part of

an underling could force him to violent means, and thereby destroy the hope

of peaceful penetration.

Howe came up behind him and made him jump. "Uh? O1-Alec! Don't do

that. I'm nervous as a cat already. "

"Sorry. Major Ardmore is on the circuit. He wants to know how you are

making out."

"You'll have to talk to him. I can't leave the door."

"He wants to know when Scheer will be back, too."

"Tell him I'll send him back just as soon as I know it's safe to step outside

this door and not a minute sooner."

"O. K. " Howe turned away. Jeff looked back at the street and felt the hair

on his neck stand up. A PanAsian in uniform was staring curiously at the

building. The foreigner stood for a moment, then went away at the dog trot

they all affected when moving on duty.

"Mota, old boy," Jeff said to himself. "It's time to do your stuff."

Less than ten minutes later a squad arrived commanded by the same

officer who had searched the building before. "Stand aside, Holy One."

"No, Master," Jeff said firmly, "the temple is now consecrated. None may

enter but worshipers of the Lord Mota."

"We will not harm your temple, Holy One. Stand aside. "

"Master, if you enter I cannot save you from the wrath of the Lord Mota.

Nor can I save you from the wrath of the Imperial Hand." Before the officer

had time to turn this over in his mind Jeff went quickly on, "The Lord Mota

expected this visit from you and greets you. He bids me, his humble servant,

to make you three gifts."

"Gifts?

"For yourself -" Jeff laid a heavy purse in his hand. "For your superior

officer, may his name be blessed-" A second purse followed. "-and for your

men." A third purse was added; the PanAsian was forced to use both hands.

He stood there for a moment. There could be no doubt in his mind, from

the weight alone, as to what the purses contained. It was more gold than he

had ever handled in his life. Shortly he turned, barked an order at his men,

and strode away.

Howe came up again. "You made it, Jeff?'"

"This round, at least." Thomas watched the squad move up the street.

"Cops are all alike, the world over. Reminds me of a railroad dick I once

knew."

"Do you think he'll share it out the way you suggested?"

"The men won't get any, that's sure. He may split with his boss, to keep

him quiet. He'll probably find some way to hide the third lot of loot before he

gets back to the station. What I'm wondering is: is he an honest politician?"

"Huh?"

" Àn honest politician is one that stays bought.' Come on, let's get ready

for customers."

They held their first services that evening. As church services they were

nothing much, since Jeff was still feeling out the art. They conformed to the