Free All My Sins Remembered by Joe Haldeman

ambassador’s. If you can get one of them here for an hour or so, I’ll be able to call in the arrest and get authority to confine them.”
    “That’ll be easy enough. Fitz-Jones and I have to fill out an accident report and take it to the Company clerk for witnessing. I told him to come by at around three this afternoon; it’ll take more than an hour.”
    “You couldn’t get Kindle to come up too, could you?”
    “Afraid not. I’ve already confined him to quarters—wouldn’t do to erode my authority in these matters by telling him to come over for a chat… but you’re in no danger from him. I had to make a deep incision in his right triceps; he’s going to be either doped up or in considerable pain for at least a week.”
    “Can’t say that I have too much sympathy for him. Well, then, I’ll pay a visit to the ambassadorial residence at about three o’clock. Here, take this.” Crowell handed the pistol to Dr. Norman. “I’m afraid I’ve set you up as a secondary target.”
    Dr. Norman turned the little weapon over on his palm. “Won’t you be needing this thing more than I?”
    “No, I’m going to pick up some heavier artillery. Kindle had a laser pistol last night; if he’d known what he was doing, he could have fried me with no trouble.”
    “Well, I’ll certainly keep it. But I’ve never fired a gun in my life.”
    “Well, be careful; that pistol doesn’t have a safety. Just aim it in the right general direction and start pulling the trigger—it has over a hundred shots left in the magazine.”
    The doctor dropped it into the capacious front pocket of his lab coat. “I hope you get them safely incarcerated before I have to use it.”
    “They should be in the Company jail before dark tonight.”
    11.
     
    From his billet window Crowell could see the ambassador roll away toward the dispensary. He unplugged the laser pistol and checked the charge on it—more than half full, two minutes of continuous operation, which would be about enough to take on a platoon of infantrymen. He held both the pistol and his burglar’s kit in his right hand, and draped a light jacket over them.
    He set out walking down the street away from the ambassador’s house, then circled around and came up behind the place. There were no buildings to obscure Fitz-Jones’s view of the desert, which rolled in from the horizon to within a few meters of a large picture window.
    Crowell took a crayon from his kit and inscribed a large black circle on the window. The black turned to chalky white and the circle of plastic fell out. With considerable effort he pulled himself up to the hole and through. He swallowed a Gravitol—only one more in his pillbox—and reflected on how good it would be to get his real body back again.
    He checked three rooms before he found the radio, in the study. There was a cover over the sending plate and he cursed aloud when he saw that it had a thumbprint lock on it. It would take hours to open it.
    Nothing for it but to wait until Fitz-Jones returned, and force him to open it. Crowell had an uncharacteristically macabre thought as he felt the weight of the vibroknife in his pocket. He only needed the man’s thumb.
    After wandering around Fitz-Jones’s study for half an hour, learning nothing, Crowell remembered the Chateau de Rothschild. Might as well enjoy the wait. Crowell walked over the thick carpet to the kitchen. He found a glass, stuck the laser in his belt, and tapped the cask of wine.
    “Don’t do anything foolish, Isaac.”
    Otto turned slowly.
Mark II Westinghouse antique laser safety off right-hand range three meters set on full dispersion no chance
“Why Jonathon. Fancy meeting you here.”
Hand shaking but full dispersion can’t miss hasn’t fired yet probably won’t thinkthinkthink…
    “I’m surprised at you, Isaac. Such language I heard you use. But you aren’t really Isaac, are you? Any more than those other two were geologists. You’ll be joining your friends