The 10th Victim by Robert Sheckley

Author:Robert Sheckley [Sheckley, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Media Sci-Fi & Fantasy
Published: 2014-03-31T21:00:00+00:00

10

“This is Mobile One to Central. Do you read me, Central, do you read me? Over.”

“I read you loud and clear,” Martin said. He was Central. Almost the first thing he had done upon his arrival in Rome was to organize a command post. That was something he had always wanted—a command post with himself in charge under the code name of Central. He had it now; and he also had about $200,000 worth of radio and television equipment in one corner of the Borgia Ballroom. He was sitting in front of his equipment with a microphone in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He was also wearing earphones. This pleased him very much.

“This is Mobile Two reporting. But I have nothing to report.”

“Then carry on as before,” Martin said firmly.

The Roy Bell Dancers, having finished another rehearsal, were lounging on the stage, drinking black coffee and discussing ways to keep one’s fingernails from splitting. Caroline had been reading a book on the care and raising of cocker spaniels. Now she put the book down and strolled to Martin’s command post.

“Mobile Three signing in.”

“Reporting in, you mean,” Martin corrected him.

“Sorry. Mobile Three reporting in with nothing to report in.”

“Acknowledged,” Martin said curtly, taking a drag from his cigarette, wiping his forehead and pinching his lip. The earphones hurt his ears but he wasn’t going to take them off for a small matter like that. He could endure the pain; he knew that other men had probably endured worse.

“Mobile Four reporting. Hey look, Martin, what about if—”

“Not Martin,” Martin said reprovingly. “Central is the correct nomenclature in this situation.” Martin shook his head with annoyance. That was Chet in Mobile Four. He was probably annoyed at having to work as a spotter, and as fourth spotter at that. But that was just the way it had happened to turn out, which was how things did happen to turn out sometimes. And anyhow, Chet shouldn’t presume on their 12-year friendship to the extent of using Martin’s first name— not after Martin had explained to everybody the need for radio code integrity in an operation of this sort.

“Your report, Mobile Four,” Martin barked.

“Nothing to report, Central,” Chet said. “Mobile Four requests permission to take a lunch break.”

“Negative,” Martin replied.

“Now look, Central, I didn’t have any time for breakfast—”

“But you did have time to rent the Colosseum,” Martin said.

“Now look, I explained about that. I really didn’t mean to—”

“Request denied!” Martin howled. In a calmer voice he added, “I got a feeling something’s going to pop at any moment now. Can’t spare you just now, Mobile Four; I really can’t.”

“So okay,” Mobile Four, or Chet, replied. “I shall maintain surveillance until ordered otherwise. Out and over. I mean over and out.”

Martin gripped the microphone convulsively. Lord, lord, how he hated levity, slackness, presumption, insubordination, and other things like that! He hadn’t realized how much he hated those things until today, when he was finally in charge of his own operation. He could almost feel a vestige of sympathy for Mr.

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