ONE
It was a strange way to treat an Object of Desire.
The third wife of Francesco di Bartolommeo di Zanobi Giocondo was centuries old .but had lost none of her apAdmirers still came to extol her fine forehead and delihands-to offer her worship, to pay court, to covet. With )ardy poplar stiffening her spine, she received them all the same temperate brown gaze, the same equable exsion, the same intriguing smile.
Perhaps the smile was difficult on occasion to maintain, Mme of her admirers were more extreme than others. More once she had been abducted from her home; more than she'd been rescued or ransomed or snatched from oblivLt the last second.
Today maintaining the smile must have been a struggle. semicircle around her were a squad of policemen, all in '~e gear, all, with unforgivable rudeness, facing outward, backs to her. She was surrounded by the invisible globe cold-field. Layered defenses, arrays of screamers and leap-
studded the floor, ceiling, and the walls to either side of throne.
Facing her were two men. One was tall, white-haired, gaunt. The other was of medium height though, even 1g the squad of police in battle array, he seemed taller. He e his hair long, had buskins on his feet, a large diamond on one finger, and looked on the world with heavy-lidded !n eyes that gave his face an indolent expression. He was in late twenties.
"How do you like our La Gioconda?" the white-haired i asked. His voice was loud. Perhaps it was rude of him to it within her earshot, but that was his way-he affected to iard of hearing, and had a tendency to shout.
"I would like her better, Lord Huyghe, if I could get a e closer."
"Perhaps, Maijstral, if you asked politely."
The line of police stiffened. Gloved fingers edged closer weapons.
Drake Maijstral moved forward on silent feet and raised hands. The guardians' trigger fingers vibrated with tension and then Maijstral made a simple gesture as if to part wa
"If you please-?" he said.
Reluctantly the line of guards parted and shuffled aside. official-the lady's chief attendant, a Tanquer named rving-seemed about to strangle himself with his own tail. ijstral's lazy eyes, glowing with amusement, looked La Gi)nda up and down. His ears twitched forward.
"I' like her sfumato," he said. "And it's a pleasant face, t should wear well. One could have it on one's wall and not of it easily."'
At this ominous news Horving's breath began to wheeze ough a constricted windpipe. It was difficult to tell if his eyes were a result of outrage or strangulation. Lord
Huyghe-he was an art historian-ambled forward and bent to peer at the lady's features.
"Mona Lisa is an old friend," he said. "We're on firstname terms."
"I congratulate you on the acquaintance. I know only her cousin-the Lady with an Ermine. "
"Ah. I don't believe I've had the pleasure."
Maijstral once had six days to make the acquaintance of Lady with an Ermine, the period between his theft of the painting and the time he sold it back to the owner's insurance company.
"In Prince Chan's collection, on Nana," he said. "The Lady, like Mona Lisa, is celebrated for the elusive quality of her smile. It makes one wonder if the artist had a way of amusing women.
"I believe history is silent on the matter," Huyghe said.
Horving, anoxic, collapsed to the floor with a hollow wooden boom. One of the policemen growled. Maijstral looked up.
"Don't look at me," he said. ` I didn't do it."
He gave La Gioconda a final, searching look, then withdrew. Huyghe followed and took his arm.
"Shall we go on to the Venetians, Maijstral?"
"Let's jump ahead to the Flemish. There's a Vermeer I have my eye on."
The two left the room and turned down the corridor. A squad of police anxiously trotted after. The guards had been expecting Maijstral to view the collection in order, Italians followed by Flemish. Maijstral's jumping about had destroyed their operational plan, and their officers were forced to improvise.
While flustered security men dashed from one place to another, Maijstral walked with perfect ease next to the historian. If one must view famous art treasures through a picket
fence of policemen, he considered, the least one could do is tweak them from time to time.
"I heard from your father, incidentally," Huyghe said. His booming voice echoed in the corridor.
Maijstral frowned. "Recently?"
"Only a few days ago, through VPL. He asked me to look after you and make certain that you weren't associating with any-" He smiled. "Rude or unsuitable companions."
Maijstral sighed. No sooner had Gustav Maijstral been pronounced dead and laid to rest in his tomb on Nana than he took up a large correspondence, usually through the expensive Very Private Letter service-either complaints to his son about Maijstral's habits, demands for money to honor some old debt that he'd forgotten about for twenty years, notes to friends complaining about Maijstral's neglect, or suggestions to old creditors that they approach Maijstral and demand he pay up.
"Gustav said he hoped to see me soon," Huyghe boomed. "I don't suppose you permit him the funds to travel-?"
"He's quite safe in his tomb," Maijstral said. "He'd only get into trouble if he travelled." He looked at the older man. "I'm afraid his mind was wandering, Lord Huyghe. It happens so easily to the dead, you know."
"I quite understand," Huyghe said.
Maijstral found Vermeer's Lacemaker as splendid as advertisied, and he enjoyed the other Flemish works, although he wondered aloud why so many still lifes were the remnants of meals-dirty forks and smeared dishes hardly seemed the most cultivated subjects for fine art. ,
"If you were a starving artist," Huyghe asked, "would you let a meal stand for the amount of time it took to paint it?"
"Ah," Maijstral said. "I entirely take your point."
After viewing the collection, Huyghe and Maijstral si out of the Louvre toward where Huyghe's red Spor flyer waited on the old vintage concrete drive. Media g circling in a holding pattern over the car, spotted their c and zoomed in, jostling for the better shots, Maijstral f by the Pei pyramid, the Khorkhinn carousel, the Floatin cer of the Tuileries.
"May we expect a robbery at the Louvre anytime s one asked.
"I'm here on vacation," Maijstral said. "I've never to Earth before, and I have no intention of spoiling my sure here by indulging in my profession. I have too littl to properly appreciate my heritage: Paris, Edo, Tejas, phis..."
"Do you expect the recent recommendation c Constellation Practices Authority, condemning burglar urging that it be banned, to have any real effect on your pation?"
Maijstral considered an answer. "Allowed Burglar custom that predates human civilization," he said. hopes that the various parliaments of the Constellatio have consideration for its antiquity."
"You think, then," a new voice, "that the Human stellation should maintain inhuman customs even they're contrary to traditional human civilization?"
Maijstral's green eyes glittered from behind heav' The question was provocative, particularly the word man, which had recently taken on a nasty edge. His owl was that the phrase "human civilization" had been some of a contradiction in terms until humanity had found its nexed by an alien power; but he didn't want to make a re provocative as the question had been, so he temporized.
"I'm entirely in favor of human civilization," he
"but there's nothing civilized in change for its own sake. WE alter an institution that works, and that has been providir sport and entertainment for millennia?"
"Do you think you'll hold the championship as long Geoff Fu George?"
Maijstral smiled. "Fu George is incomparable," he sail "I was lucky at Silverside Station, and if he hadn't retired, I': certain he'd still hold first place."
"Nichole is onplanet,"another globe said. "Do you pl< to see her?"
At that point one alarm after another began to sing fro the Louvre. Guards-massed near the entrance to see Mai stral off jostled one another in confusion. Maijstral smiled amusement: someone had decided to pull a job when t] guards had their attention elsewhere. He turned to Huyghe.
"Let's be on our way;" he said, "before they try to p this one on me."
The red Sportsman arrowed into the Parisian sky. Maijsti sighed as the media globes fell astern.
"How did Fu George put up with it all those years?" asked.
"He had a more sizeable entourage than you," Huyg. said. "That time on Silverside Station, he was restricted in t number of people he could bring. Just two." '
"Two and Vanessa Runciter," Maijstral said, "and shy worth an army." He shivered at a memory of staring down t barrel of Vanessa Runciter's rifle.
"Still, I'm afraid you'll need more people."
"I'm trying," Maijstral said, "but you'd be surprised how hard it is to find promising young criminals these days
A few minutes later the Sportsman set down on Huyghe's tate southwest of Krakow. Maijstral thanked his host for t
tour of Earth's most renowned gallery, then made his way his room to dress for dinner.
In his room Maijstral was met by his servant, Rom Roman was tall even for a Khosalikh, and his family had bi in the service of Maijstral's for more generations than M stral could, or for that matter cared, to count.
Maijstral handed Roman his pistols-he'd left his kr behind, as a courtesy to the museum's canvases-and tl Roman began too unlace his jacket.
Roman's ears twitched forward. "I understand there some difficulty at the museum, sir," he said.
"Not really. But just in case the police decide to doi the evidence of their eyes and conclude it was me somehc we might tidy things a bit -I don't know what the local rel lations allow in the way of burglar gear."
"News flashes indicate the theft may have been succe ful, sir."
"Ah. In that case we may as well resign ourselves v visit from the authorities."
A few weeks earlier, the Imperial Sporting Commissi had, somewhat to Maijstral's dismay, rated him the tc ranked Allowed Burglar in all known space. Maijstral I never permitted himself to consider himself a serious can date-during his entire professional career, Geoff Fu Geoi had occupied the top spot, a position he'd secured during 1 Affaire of the Mirrorglass BellBox and in subsequent ye made his own. But Fu George had just retired, two other le, ing candidates had the bad fortune to be sent to prison, anc Maijstral might as well admit it he'd outdone himself on'. verside Station and come out of the business with a to astounding array of swag. He'd managed to outscore the ne est rival by all of twenty points.
Roman finished unlacing Maijstral's jacket, and of picking off an offending piece of lint, carried the garment
closet. Maijstral picked up a pair of binoculars and gazed the window, trying to locate the detectives he knew were dng on the fringes of the Huyghe estate.
Being first in the ratings, Maijstral had discovered, guar:ed the champion an unfortunate amount of attention from local authorities.
There the police were, he discovered, behind some ibs. The detectives were too dignified to actually crouch vn behind the foliage, and were trying to act as if it were Fectly natural for some badly dressed, slightly seedy public -ants to spend hours loitering behind the thorn bushes. Maijstral couldn't help but hope they would fall into n.
:e Roman had finished dressing him, Maijstral glided sily into the study next door, where Drexler, a glass in his was absorbed in the microscopic innards of a piece of burequipment, in this case a flax-jammer.
"The authorities should be here shortly," Maijstral said. Here's been a successful burglary at the Louvre."
Drexler turned in his chair and looked at Maijstral over shoulder. He was a Khosalikh, having just reached matuwith his first molt. He was a little shorter than averagech made him about the size of a tall human-but was built stoutly, as if for the long haul.
"Beg pardon, sir," he said, "but you shouldn't have done on a place like the Louvre without proper support." "I didn't," Maijstral said. "Someone else timed a robbery Dincide with my visit."
Drexler's ears flattened. "I hope this doesn't turn into her Silverside Station situation," he said.
"I devoutly hope not," Maijstral said. "But if anything in r bag of tricks is illegal in. Western Ukrania, or wherever it e are, then please make it disappear for a bit."
"Absolutely," Drexler said. He put his,workin a foamlined case, put the case in a tough canvas drawstring bag, and tossed the bag in the air, where it stayed. At a (verbal) command, the window opened, and then at a (silent, electronic,' command from the proximity wire in Drexler's collar, the drawstring bag flew out.
"I'll put it in a tree a few kilometers away, all right?" Drexler said, and his tongue lolled in a Khosalikh smile. "Fine. Thank you."
"I didn't have anything actually illegal, but if the police confiscated it, it might be a while before it was returned, and then it might come back damaged."
"Very good."
"These things have been known to happen." "Quite so. Thank you."
Maijstral returned to his dressing room, silently contem. plating the problem of Drexler.
Drexler, like Maijstral, had experienced the madness of Silverside Station firsthand, but from an opposing vantage point. He'd furnished technical support for Geoff Fu George and had been up to his muzzle in the mad contending scram• ble for loot that marked Silverside's social debut. Fu George': retirement had coincided with Maijstral's own tech leaving hi; employ, and Drexler had then offered his services to Maijstral Maijstral hired him, albeit provisionally. Thus far the arrange ment had worked well enough, though Maijstral hadn't pre cisely put Drexler's abilities to the test: he hadn't done anj major jobs for the last few months.
But something, Maijstral thought, was missing. Maijstra had no complaints with Drexler's performance or abilitiesFu George wouldn't have hired anything but the best-bu there was an intangible something that kept Maijstral fron feeling entirely at home around Drexler.
It bothered him. It wasn't that he disliked Drexler, it wasn't
that he never found himself at ease around the Khosalikh,. d he didn't know why. The fact that Drexler was a Khosa.h was not at issue, either, since Maijstral was perfectly comrtable around Roman.
Chemistry, he supposed. Regrettable, but there you are.
Maijstral finished dressing. Roman silently offered him s weapons, and Maijstral stowed them away. Distantly, aijstral heard the booming of the dinner gong.
"Will you be needing anything else, sir?" Roman asked.
The room darkened as if a mass of ravens had flown heath the sun. Maijstral looked out the window to see a phaix of shiny black police fliers settling onto Lord Huyghe's vn. Irritation crabbed at his nerves.
"What did I tell you?" he demanded. "They're not going leave me alone for a blasted second on this blasted planet!"
He really was on vacation. He had come to Earth to :end the wedding of two acquaintances and sometime emDyers, Amalia Jensen and Pietro Quijano, and he was stay; on as a tourist. He didn't want to steal anything on this p, but-it seemed as if no one was willing to take his word for
"Perhaps their visit will be brief," Roman comforted. Maijstral took a few deep breaths and tried to dispel his lue.
"Stay in the room, will you," Maijstral said, "and make re the cops don't steal anything."
Roman, ever the perfect servant, bowed.
.'Very good, sir," he said.
nner was not delayed, though it was disturbed somewhat the sound of heavy police boots tramping up and down the lls. The local police commissaire, a bushy-whiskered old ul named Przemysl, was invited to join Maijstral and Lord d Lady Huyghe, and sat down just in time for the soup urse.
"Sorry about this," he apologized, speaking precisely in (hosali Standard. "Were it up to me, I wouldn't interrupt you i...
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