Free The Philip K. Dick Megapack by Philip K Dick Page B

water.”
    “You, Jan?”
    The bright slim man smiled. “The same.”
    “Thacher?”
    “Gin and tonic.”
    “Whiskey and water for me, also,” Erickson said. The robot attendant went off. It returned at once with the drinks, setting on the table. Each took his own. “Well,” Erickson said, holding his glass up. “To our mutual success.”
    * * * *
    All drank, Thacher and the three of them, heavy-set Erickson, Mara, her eyes nervous and alert, Jan, who had just come. Again a look passed between Mara and Erickson, a look so swift that he would not have caught it had he not been looking directly at her.
    “What line do you represent, Mr. Erickson?” Thacher asked.
    Erickson glanced at him, then down at the sample case on the floor. He grunted. “Well, as you can see, I’m a salesman.”
    Thacher smiled. “I knew it! You get so you can always spot a salesman right off by his sample case. A salesman always has to carry something to show. What are you in, sir?”
    Erickson paused. He licked his thick lips, his eyes blank and lidded, like a toad’s. At last he rubbed his mouth with his hand and reached down, lifting up the sample case. He set it on the table in front of him.
    “Well?” he said. “Perhaps we might even show Mr. Thacher.”
    They all stared down at the sample case. It seemed to be an ordinary leather case, with a metal handle and a snap lock. “I’m getting curious,” Thacher said. “What’s in there? You’re all so tense. Diamonds? Stolen jewels?”
    Jan laughed harshly, mirthlessly. “Erick, put it down. We’re not far enough away, yet.”
    “Nonsense,” Erick rumbled. “We’re away, Jan.”
    “Please,” Mara whispered. “Wait, Erick.”
    “Wait? Why? What for? You’re so accustomed to—”
    “Erick,” Mara said. She nodded toward Thacher. “We don’t know him, Erick. Please!”
    “He’s a Terran, isn’t he?” Erickson said. “All Terrans are together in these times.” He fumbled suddenly at the catch lock on the case. “Yes, Mr. Thacher. I’m a salesman. We’re all salesmen, the three of us.”
    “Then you do know each other.”
    “Yes.” Erickson nodded. His two companions sat rigidly, staring down. “Yes, we do. Here, I’ll show you our line.”
    He opened the case. From it he took a letter-knife, a pencil sharpener, a glass globe paperweight, a box of thumb tacks, a stapler, some clips, a plastic ashtray, and some things Thacher could not identify. He placed the objects in a row in front of him on the table top. Then he closed the sample case.
    “I gather you’re in office supplies,” Thacher said. He touched the letter-knife with his finger. “Nice quality steel. Looks like Swedish steel, to me.”
    Erickson nodded, looking into Thacher’s face. “Not really an impressive business, is it? Office supplies. Ashtrays, paper clips.” He smiled.
    “Oh—” Thacher shrugged. “Why not? They’re a necessity in modern business. The only thing I wonder—”
    “What’s that?”
    “Well, I wonder how you’d ever find enough customers on Mars to make it worth your while.” He paused, examining the glass paperweight. He lifted it up, holding it to the light, staring at the scene within until Erickson took it out of his hand and put it back in the sample case. “And another thing. If you three know each other, why did you sit apart when you got on?”
    They looked at him quickly.
    “And why didn’t you speak to each other until we left Deimos?” He leaned toward Erickson, smiling at him. “Two men and a woman. Three of you. Sitting apart in the ship. Not speaking, not until the check-station was past. I find myself thinking over what the Martian said. Three saboteurs. A woman and two men.”
    Erickson put the things back in the sample case. He was smiling, but his face had gone chalk white. Mara stared down, playing with a drop of water on the edge of her glass. Jan clenched his hands together nervously, blinking rapidly.
    “You three are the ones