All my humor is based upon destruction and despair.
—Lenny Bruce
Keppler was in the bath. He was lying back relaxing in the warm soapy water. He opened his eyes to find five heavily armed men looking at him.
“Jesus. Shit!” The shock. The outrage. How vulnerable we feel when we are naked. The steamy mirrors reflected them. How very clothed they seemed.
“What the hell? Who are you? What do you want?”
His heart was pounding so hard, because he knew immediately who they were and exactly what they wanted.
“Riggins!” he called.
A short pasty-faced man with dark hair stepped forward and looked at him for a minute. “Hello, Emil,” said Josef. “I don’t think it’s really worth your shouting. Your manservant is taking a nap.”
“How did you get in here?”
“That’s not really an important issue.”
“I’ll decide what’s an important issue on my own ship, damn you.”
Josef nodded and a muscled man in a heavy leather coat stepped forward and slapped Keppler hard across the face. It shocked Keppler, not so much by its force as by the simple assertion of power.
“Listen to me,” said Josef. “We need to take delivery now.”
“That’s not our agreement.”
“There has been a change of plan.”
“You think I’ll give you arms on board my own ship, you’re crazy.”
“Losing one ship was enough for you, eh, Emil?”
Keppler reddened.
“That was a long time ago,” he said.
“And they’re still dead. But you’re not, are you, Emil? Not yet.”
The marble bath, the warm comfy suds, and the heavy menacing presence of the armed men. Keppler gritted his teeth.
“But we’ve got off on the wrong foot,” said Josef nicely. “We’re not here to bully you, Emil. We simply want what we’ve paid for. We won’t harm your ship.”
Keppler hesitated.
“Is it the money that worries you, Emil?”
Josef nodded, and one of the men came forward with a small black velvet bag. Josef took it, opened it and let the contents spill onto the white fluffy bathroom carpet. Two hundred solid-gold Silesian eagles. Minted in the no-credit mining days. Even Keppler was impressed.
“We do not intend to screw you, Emil. Okay?”
They helped him from the bath and led him into his dressing room. Dripping, naked, the vulnerability of the human body. He put on a dressing gown and they led him into his den. He was surprised to see another four or five men get up as he entered the room. They stared at him.
“Sit down,” said Josef, not unkindly.
He sat in his big leather armchair.
“Can I have a brandy?” he asked.
“Of course,” said Josef. One of the men brought him a balloon glass and a decanter.
“Will you have some?”
“Thank you, no,” said Josef.
Keppler’s hand shook as he poured himself the drink. He had a small automatic in the desk drawer. They hadn’t had much chance to search the place, but there were at least a dozen of them. What chance did he have?
“Now then, Emil, we don’t have very much time. Where are the containers?”
He looked around helplessly. He was utterly compromised. He decided not to lie.
“They’re in the theater.”
They brought forward a 3-D sectional hologram map of the ship and scrolled down to the theater.
“Where exactly would that be?” asked Josef.
“They should be in the storage area where we keep the props and sets,” said Keppler.
“Doesn’t sound that safe,” said Josef.
“They’ll be in a locked cage in crates.”
“Okay. Well now, we can arrange to collect them. No need to worry.”
“But there’s a show on in two hours. The place will be packed.”
“Well, we know that, Emil. We’re all big Brenda Woolley fans. Can you get us some backstage passes? It would be such a thrill for us.”
Christ, what were they planning?
“You won’t hurt Brenda?”
“Emil. We’ll just take our delivery and then leave.”
Keppler leaned forward and pulled open a desk drawer. Three or four of them raised their weapons. He smiled and pulled out a bunch of backstage passes.
“Thank you,” said Josef.
But Keppler had felt the edge of the weapon. It was there, and it was loaded.
“Now I hate to impose on your hospitality, but our watchers need a little help.”
“In what?”
“We need to secure a few people.”
“Arrest them, you mean?”
“Detain them,” said Josef carefully. “Just temporarily, so they don’t start blabbing. After all, you don’t want this to leak out, do you, Emil?”
“Who are these people?”
“Just a couple of comedians and their droid,” said Josef.
Emil smiled.
“No problem,” he said.