Free The Return of Retief by Keith Laumer Page B

into a rude circle, which he sent rolling across
the cavernous shed floor. Both cops took a single step after it, and halted
abruptly.
     
                "You
see what that Terry did?" one inquired of the circumambient air.
"Took and twisted old Gluck's bar into a regler cookie," he
amplified.
     
                "He
never," Gluck contradicted. "Couldn't of, Horace."
     
                "I
saw what I saw," Horace stated sullenly. "Leroy saw it too."
     
                "I
have a feeling you fellows been on this cushy indoor job too long," Gluck
mused. "Thinking about transferring you out to foot-patrol on Big
Rock." He glanced at Retief. "Big Rock's our near moon," he
explained. "No air, no water, no snick berries. No much of anything. Keeps
a fellow on his toes just trying to keep alive. Got a small Customs station out
there.
     
                "You
wait here, Terry," he added in a harder tone, and set off toward a small
partitioned-off room placed inconspicuously in a corner. He tapped diffidently
at the door, over which Retief noted the words 'Liaison Office' and the
equivalent in a variety of scipts, including the Ree ideograms. Gluck
disappeared inside, and reemerged a moment later accompanied by the squat,
cylindrical figure of a Ree in military paint with the rank pips of a field
grade officer. The alien outdistanced his escort to ripple truculently up to
Retief.
     
                "Gluck
here—where the devil is the fellow?" the Ree interrupted himself to look
around, discovering Gluck just behind him. "—says you got big ideas,
Terry. Better shape up and show the boys your luggage, before I get
tough."
     
                "Keep
a civil tongue in your talk-box," Retief ordered. "And you may
address me as 'sir'."
     
                "Well,"
the colonel began hesitantly. "I've got my orders, Terry. It looks like
I'll have to have you thrown in the lockup as a potential enemy alien."
     
                "Potential?"
Retief inquired. "Are you planning to start a war?"
     
                "Well,
you never know," the Ree declared. "Anyway, this is free Prutian
soil, and I guess old Gluck's got a right to look through your laundry if he
wants to."
     
                "Are
you and Gluck really sure you're ready to violate the most-favored-planet
treaty between Terra and Prute?" Retief asked, as if mildly curious.
     
                "Naw,
nothing like that, Terry. Just routine, you know."
     
                "Routine
requires that diplomatic personnel in transit to friendly worlds be accorded
duty-free entry of personal effects, and VIP treatment," Retief pointed
out. "But, of course," he added, "we're willing to oil the
routine."
     
                He
pulled out an envelope (funds, emergency, for good impression) and distributed
a sheaf of GUC. The Ree tentacled up the bulk, and the Purtians scooped the
rest.
     
                "You
may stamp my passport now," Retief suggested, preferring the blue-covered
booklet. "I'm in transit to Goldblatt's World, you know. Does that feeder
flight originate here?"
     
                "Suppose
to," Gluck acknowledged, as he stamped a large purple impression on the
blank transit visa page before him and handed the document back. "They'll
make me sign a statement of charges for that pry-bar, you know," he added.
     
                Retief
allowed an extra five-Guck note to flutter down; Gluck plucked it from mid-air
and whisked it out of sight.
     
                "You
know, Mister," he commented, "it's a real pleasure to be of service
to a real gent like yourself, who knows where it's at. Lemme check on that
cab." He hurried off toward the street doors.
     
     
4
     
                When
the porter had tossed Retief's trunk into the cargo bin of the dilapidated hack
which had squealed to a halt at the inspector's imperious hail, and