Hubbard, L Ron - Mission Earth 06 - Death Quest

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Mission earth volume 06

Death quest

Scanned by Warburner

Yet to be proofed

Voltarian

Censor's

Disclaimer

During my tenure as the Chairman of the Royal Board of Censors, I have been exposed to the wide

range of tastes that span the 110 planets of our great Confederacy.

Yet nothing compares to this bizarre, fallacious account which deals with a completely fabricated

planet called "Earth."

The Crown does not object to an author creating an imaginary world and populating it with equally

imaginary characters. Nor does the Crown object to behavior and situations that strain the

imagination, not to mention one's basic sense of morality. There is, however, a limit, a boundary,

for even the fevered imagination. This work has crossed that line.

The Crown strenuously objects to the unauthorized use of actual persons such as Royal officer

Jettero Heller and the Countess Krak to imply that "Earth" exists and that Heller might have been

sent there on the orders of the Grand Council. However, "Earth" does not exist, and that takes

care of that.

Additionally, the author's irresponsible description of a process that would otherwise be known as

"judicial" also pressed the Crown's patience to the limit. There is no such "legal system"

anywhere within the

2 L. RON HUBBARD

known worlds. What is described in this work bears no resemblance to anything rational and could

not possibly exist. The reader must keep that in mind. The law is the mortar between the building

blocks of society. A "legal system" permitting people to "sue" merely to seek a large "settlement"

as described in this work would become so clogged with "suits" that it would take a person years

to seek justice. And what kind of "justice" would such a system allow? So away with that fantasy!

The debased attitude toward sex on this nonexistent planet called "Earth" has already drawn the

ire of the Crown. Nothing more will be said.

If this work teaches anything, it teaches what happens when one writes about a nonexistent world

such as this "Earth."

There is NO planet "Earth."

That is the only rational attitude to take.

Lord Invay

Royal Historian

Chairman, Board of Censors

Royal Palace

Voltar Confederacy

By Order of

His Imperial Majesty

Wully the Wise

Voltarian

Translator's

Preface

Hello again!

This is your translator, 54 Charlee Nine, the Robot-brain in the Translatophone.

Lord Invay's remark about the American legal system reminds me of the problem that I had in

translating this work. First, I can't fathom how a coat and matching pants or skirt could be a

legal "suit."

Further, these "suits" are found in what Southerners say is a "coathouse" but spell as

"courthouse." I compromised and spelled it "cohthouse." I was tempted to spell it "cathouse" for

what really goes on, but while it may be a more accurate description, it sadly misses the

pronunciation.

Speaking of accents, I also had to deal with Dr. Crobe, who is a crazy Voltarian cellologist

pretending to be a psychiatrist (which automatically qualifies him as a double nutcase) who has an

accent that sounds like an Austrian being strangled. But since nobody really understands what a

psychiatrist is talking about anyway, it really doesn't matter what he sounds like.

Meanwhile, all of this is really the confession of Apparatus officer Soltan Gris, as dictated by

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him in a jail cell. I won't even begin to estimate how many logic circuits fused or warped when I

tried to get my wits

4 L. RON HUBBARD

around the life style of this nonexistent planet called Earth.

Frankly, if Fleet Officer Jettero Heller and the Countess Krak did go to Earth to arrest the

pollution so a Vol-tarian invasion force could later safely conquer the planet, I don't see how

they kept their sanity while they were there.

Soltan Gris is another matter. He acts more and more like he's from Earth, rather than Voltar.

Maybe that's because he spent so much time there studying psychology tricks from Sigmund Freud and

Bugs Bunny. Or it could be that he is simply so criminal that he was more at home on what appears

to be a prison planet. After all, Gris's whole task was to stop Heller and keep Heller from

learning that the head of the Apparatus, Lombar Hisst, was obtaining Earth drugs to overthrow the

Vol-tarian Confederacy.

Don't ask me to make any more sense of it. But I will include a Key to this volume. That's more

help than I got from Soltan Gris.

Sincerely,

54 Charlee Nine

Robotbrain in the Translatophone

Key to DEATH QUEST

Activator-receiver—See Bugging Gear.

Afyon—City in Turkey where the Apparatus has a secret mountain base.

Agnes, Miss—Personal aide to Delbert John Rockecenter.

Apparatus, Coordinated Information—The secret police of Voltar, headed by Lombar Hisst and manned

by criminals.

Atalanta—Home province of Jettero Heller and the Countess Krak on the planet Manco.

Bang-Bang Rimbombo—An ex-marine demolitions expert and member of the Corleone mob. He also attends

Jettero Heller's college Army ROTC classes in place of Heller at Empire University.

Biggs, Stonewall—Virginia county clerk who issued Jettero Heller a birth certificate in the name

of Delbert John Rockecenter, Junior. Heller saved Biggs's life when the courthouse was bombed.

L. RON HUBBARD

DEATH QUEST

Bittlestiffender, Prahd—Voltarian cellologist who implanted Jettero Heller, the Countess Krak and

Dr. Crobe. (See Bugging Gear and Cellology.)

Blito-P3—Voltarian designation for a planet known locally as "Earth." It is the third planet (P3)

of a yellow-dwarf star known as Blito. It is on the Invasion Timetable as a future way stop on

Voltar's route toward the center of this galaxy.

Blueflash—A bright blue flash of light which produces unconsciousness. It is usually used by

Voltarian ships before landing in an area that is possibly populated.

Bugging Gear—Electronic eavesdropping devices that Soltan Gris had implanted in Jettero Heller,

the Countess Krak and Dr. Crobe. Gris uses a video unit to monitor everything they see or hear.

The signals are picked up by the Activator-receiver that Gris carries. When they are more than two

hundred miles from Gris, the 831 Relayer is turned on and boosts the signal to a range of ten

thousand miles.

Bury—Delbert John Rockecenter's most powerful attorney. Candy Licorice—Lesbian "wife" to Miss

Pinch.

Cellology—Voltarian medical science that can repair the body through the cellular generation of

tissues, including entire body parts.

Code Break—Violation of a section of the Space Code prohibiting the alerting of others that one is

an alien. If this occurs, those alerted are destroyed and the violator

is put to death. The purpose is to maintain the security of the Invasion Timetable.

Confederacy—See Voltar.

Coordinated Information Apparatus—See Apparatus.

Crobe, Dr.—Apparatus cellologist who delights in making freaks. He was brought to Earth by Soltan

Gris to further disrupt Jettero Heller's mission.

Empire University—Where Jettero Heller is taking classes in New York City.

Epstein, Izzy—Financial expert and anarchist hired by Jettero Heller to set up and run several

corporations to handle Heller's finances.

Eyes and Ears of Voltar—An electronics store on Voltar where Soltan Gris stole boxes of

sophisticated equipment that he brought to Earth. The Countess Krak ransacked Gris's supply,

taking a wide variety of items for her trip to the United States.

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F.F.B.O.—Fatten, Farten, Burstein and Ooze, the largest advertising/public relations firm in the

world.

Fleet—The elite space fighting arm of Voltar to which Jettero Heller belongs and which the

Apparatus despises.

Grafferty, "Bulldog"—A crooked New York City police inspector.

Grand Council—The governing body of Voltar which

L. RON HUBBARD

ordered a mission to keep Earth from destroying itself so it could be conquered on schedule per

the Invasion Timetable.

Gris, Soltan—Apparatus officer placed in charge of the Blito-P3 (Earth) Section and an enemy of

Jettero Heller. He was sent to Earth by Lombar Hisst to sabotage Heller's mission.

Heller, Jettero—Combat engineer and Royal officer of the Fleet, sent by order of the Grand Council

on Mission Earth in order to save Earth from its own imminent self-destruction by pollution and

nuclear holocaust. He is operating on Earth under the name of Jerome Terrance Wister.

Hisst, Lombar—Head of the Apparatus. His plan to overthrow the Confederacy required sending Soltan

Gris to sabotage Jettero Heller's mission.

Hypnohelmet—Device placed over the head and used to induce a hypnotic state.

Inkswitch—Phony name used by Soltan Gris when in the U.S., pretending to be a federal official.

Invasion Timetable—A schedule of galactic conquest. The plans and budget of every section of

Vohar's government must adhere to it. Bequeathed by Voltar's ancestors hundreds of thousands of

years ago, it is inviolate and sacred and the guiding dogma of the Confederacy.

Krak, Countess—The sweetheart of Jettero Heller. On

DEATH QUEST 9

Earth she is known by the name Heavenly Joy Krackle or "Miss Joy."

Lee, Harvey "Smasher"—A dishonest used-car dealer in Virginia who sold Jettero Heller a Cadillac

shortly after Heller arrived in the United States.

Madison, J. Walter—F.F.B.O. PR man hired by Bury to "immortalize" Jettero Heller, who doesn't know

about Madison's campaign; also known as "J. Warbler Madman."

Mamie Boomp—A former nightclub singer and now president and general manager of the Lucky Bonanza

Casino Corporation in Atlantic City, owned by Jettero Heller.

Manco—Home planet of Jettero Heller and the Countess Krak.

Manco Devil—Mythological spirit native to Manco.

Massacurovitch, Mortie—The crash-bang New York City taxi driver who taught Jettero Heller how to

drive a cab in New York.

Meeley—Soltan Gra's landlady back on Voltar.

Mudur Zengin—Financial czar of the biggest banking chain in Turkey and handler of Soltan Gra's

funds.

Multinational—Name of umbrella corporation that Izzy Epstein set up to manage Jettero Heller's

companies. It is located in the Empire State Building.

L. RON HUBBARD

Mutazione, Mike—Owner of the Jiffy-Spiffy Garage. He customized both the Cadillac and the vintage

cab for Jettero Heller..

Narcotic!, Faustino "The Noose"—Head of a Mafia Family that is the underworld outlet for drugs.

Octopus Oil—A Delbert John Rockecenter company that controls the world's petroleum.

Pinch, Miss—Lesbian sadist and Delbert John Rockecenter employee who lives with Candy Licorice and

has $80,000 of Soltan Gro's money.

Pokantickle—Estate of Delbert John Rockecenter, located in Hairytown, New York.

Psychiatric Birth Control—A plan, funded by Delbert John Rockecenter, to reduce the world's

population by promoting homosexuality.

Raht—An Apparatus agent on Earth who was assigned by Lombar Hisst to help Soltan Gris sabotage

Jettero Heller's mission. His partner Terb was murdered.

Razza Louseini—Consigliere to mob chief Faustino "The Noose" Narcotici.

Rockecenter, Delbert John—Native of Earth who controls the planet's fuel, finances, governments

and drugs.

Rockecenter, Junior, Delbert John—The false Earth name that Lombar Hisst arranged for Jettero

Heller to use so that he would attract attention and be killed.

DEATH QUEST

Simmons, Miss—An antinuclear fanatic who teaches at Empire University. She was dedicated to

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flunking Jettero Heller out of school until "handled" by the Countess Krak.

Smith, John—An alias that Soltan Gris uses as a Delbert John Rockecenter employee.

Spiteos—Where the Countess Krak and Jettero Heller had been imprisoned on Voltar. It has been the

secret mountain fortress prison of the Apparatus for over a thousand years.

Spurk—The owner of the Eyes and Ears of Voltar, an electronics store. Soltan Gris killed him to

steal the Bugging Gear used on Jettero Heller, the Countess Krak and Dr. Crobe, as well as boxes

of other sophisticated equipment.

Sultan Bey-The Turkish name used by Soltan Gris.

Swindle and Crouch—Law firm that represents Delbert John Rockecenter^ interests.

Torpedo Fiaccola—A sniper-killer once hired by Bury to kill Jettero Heller.

Utanc—A belly-dancer that Soltan Gris bought to be his concubine slave.

Viewer—See Bugging Gear.

Voltar—The seat of the 110-planet Confederacy that was established 125,000 years ago. Voltar is

ruled by the

L. RON HUBBARD

Emperor through the Grand Council, in accordance with the Invasion Timetable.

Whiz Kid—Nickname given to Jettero Heller by J. Walter Madison. Unknown to Heller, Madison has a

"double" playing the part of Jerome Terrance Wister in order to get publicity without Heller's

consent. The "double" has buckteeth and a protruding jaw, wears glasses and looks nothing like

Heller. His name is Gerry Wister.

Wister, Jerome Terrance—Name that Jettero Heller is using on Earth.

Zanco—Medical and cellological equipment and supplies company on Voltar.

831 Relayer—See Bugging Gear.

PART FORTY-THREE

To My Lord Turn, Justiciary of the Royal Courts and Prison, Government City, Planet Voltar, Voltar

Confederacy

Your Lordship, Sir!

I, Soltan Gris, Grade XI General Services Officer, former Secondary Executive of the Coordinated

Information Apparatus, Voltar Confederacy (All Hail His Most Imperial Majesty Cling the Lofty) am

forwarding the sixth part of my confession pertaining to MISSION EARTH.

I know that one who is in prison, as I am, should reflect upon and learn the error of his ways.

You will be pleased to know that incarceration in your fine prison has allowed me to do this.

While detailing my many criminal deeds committed while on MISSION EARTH for the Apparatus,

including murder, extortion, blackmail, I have learned a valuable lesson: Females are vicious,

treacherous, lying beasts who spend every waking minute conniving amongst themselves, plotting and

scheming how to destroy every single male. They should all be destroyed.

Take those two Earth lesbians, Miss Pinch and

L. RON HUBBARD

Candy, for example. Miss Pinch took all my money and locked it up in a safe. I was broke and

wanted it back. Earth psychology, which is never wrong, has something they call "aversion

therapy." (In the Apparatus we call it "torture.") So I tied them up and despite their protests

raped them both. What did they do? Did they adhere to the unwavering truths of psychology? No!

They ended up liking it!

"Inkswitch," they said (addressing me by the alias I employ in the U.S.), "we renounce

Rockecenter's Psychiatric Birth Control which advocates homosexuality to reduce the population and

will pay you to live with us and do that again and again."

Just goes to show how you can't trust women. They turn on you every time.

And if there is any female that epitomizes the vicious evil of that species, it is the Countess

Krak, Jet-tero Heller's girlfriend. My task was simpler until her arrival on Earth. All I had to

do was sabotage Heller's mission. True, he had given me some trouble but it was nothing compared

to the problems she caused. She was urging him on, urging him on, sabotaging my sabotaging at

every turn. Not through any skill, mind you. She was just lucky. All women are. They just don't

have the brains. They just cause trouble for men. Especially me.

That's when I realized my problem. Although J. Walter Madison, that master of PR, was generating

phony front-page stories about Heller (known on Earth as Jerome Terrance "The Whiz Kid" Wister),

they weren't affecting him. It was all because of Krak. She was holding him up. I realized that to

stop Heller I had to first remove the Countess Krak.

The opportunity was perfect. Heller was caught up in his crazy project to release spores into the

atmosphere

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DEATH QUEST

to clean up the air, not in protecting the Countess Krak. Besides, Heller didn't have any reason

to think she was open to an attack. And thanks to the visio and audio bugs they unknowingly

carried, I could not only monitor everything they saw or heard but could pinpoint their locations

at any given time. I could choose exactly when and where and how to strike.

The decision was simple. __

I had found the solution to my problem.

I would kill the Countess Krak! . v

DEATH QUEST

Chapter 1

My plan was very simple.

I would buy a hit!

A long-range sniper rifle, expertly zeroed in, fired by a trained man, was a thing against which

the Countess Krak would have no defense.

All the clever tricks she knew were close-up things, face to face. An expert marksman, shooting

from two to five hundred yards away, would not have to cope with darts or hypnohelmets or stage

sleight of hand. He would simply pull the trigger and she'd be dead.

How much did a hit cost? Ten thousand dollars seemed to be the going price.

Where could I get a hit man? They were available from the Faustino Narcotici mob, right downtown.

When could I get it done? As soon as I had ten thousand bucks.

I counted up my money. I had less than four thousand.

It was Sunday night. The apartment was in an uproar. Candy and Miss Pinch were trying to get

things squared around. Sometime this coming week, I had not made out when, they were going to have

a housewarming and because they both worked, they could only get the place into some kind of order

by working late into the night. Almost all the major things were done but there remained curtain

hanging and getting things just right.

I had sort of been staying out of the way, afraid

L. RON HUBBARD

of getting pinned to a curtain rod or swept out into the dustbin. But my need for ten thousand

dollars made me brave.

They were both buzzing around in the back room. And I ran into a hornets nest—or, more exactly, a

fleas nest.

Miss Pinch, stripped to the waist and wearing a bandanna on her head like some kind of a pirate,

was tearing into something.

"Miss Pinch," I said, "I am in grievous straits. I need ten thousand dollars to speed up a

business deal."

She whirled on me. "THERE you are!" All it would have taken was a knife between her teeth to

complete the picture of a boarding party taking a ship by storm upon the Spanish Main. "FLEAS! God

(bleep)* it, Inkswitch, FLEAS!"

Candy pointed a broom handle at me like a cannoneer. "We've been wondering and wondering why we

itched. We've been looking everyplace!"

* The vocodictoscriber on which this was originally written, the vocoscriber used by one Monte

Pennwell in making a fair copy and the translator who put this book into the language in which you

are reading it, were all members of the Machine Purity League which has, as one of its bylaws:

"Due to the extreme sensitivity and delicate sensibilities of machines and to safeguard against

blowing fuses, it shall be mandatory that robotbrains in such machinery, on hearing any cursing or

lewd words, substitute for such word the sound '(bleep)'. No machine, even if pounded upon, may

reproduce swearing or lewdness in any other way than (bleep) and if further efforts are made to

get the machine to do anything else, the machine has permission to pretend to pack up. This bylaw

is made necessary by the in-built mission of all machines to protect biological systems from

themselves." —Translator

DEATH QUEST

"And there they are!" thundered Miss Pinch like a broadside.

They were tearing my suitcase apart! They found the clothes I had stolen from that old man on

Limnos island. And there in plain view was a nest of fleas!

"It's an invasion of privacy!" I squeaked.

"Exactly!" said Candy with unaccustomed grim-ness. "They're invading the hell out of our

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privates!"

"Candy," said Miss Pinch, standing on the quarterdeck in full command, "run down to the corner

store and buy all the DDT on the shelf!"

She sped like an arrow.

"What about my ten thousand dollars?" I said.

I didn't get any answer.

Miss Pinch began to tear my grip apart. In desperation, I began to rescue vital hardware and

papers. She made me pile them in the middle of the floor.

Then she made me take the whole grip and every stitch of my clothes and carry them into the back

yard. She marched behind me as though she carried a prodding cutlass and made me stuff everything

into the garden incinerator. With a grim glare, she poured charcoal igniter fluid in and touched

it off with a match.

They burned like a sacked town.

"I think this is a little extreme," I said for the tenth or twelfth time. "They're only a few

fleas."

But that was not all they had in store for me. Candy came back, staggering under a load of

insecticide. They put me to work. They made me spray and dust the whole apartment while they stood

back with cloths over their faces saying things like "Brand-new decorator job and he..." and "Work

our (bleeps) to the bone to make the place nice and he..." It was not a very hopeful atmosphere in

which to get ten thousand dollars.

L. RON HUBBARD

I finally was even made to spray my hardware, papers and boots, and just when I thought I was

finished, more horror awaited. I was dizzy from breathing in DOT and said I was feeling faint when

both of them leaped on me, grabbed a Flit can and began to spray ME! They even rubbed DDT into my

hair and answered my protests with "If you weren't infested, then why are you leaping about?"

They dumped me in the shower and then sprayed themselves. They locked me in the back room with

only the floor to sleep on.

The following morning, before they went to work, they let me out. Standing there with nothing on,

I said, "Could I have ten thousand dollars?"

Miss Pinch, coated and hatted and holding her purse, stood in the door and glared.

I said, "At least let me have my daily thousand dollars."

The answer was a slammed door. They were gone.

Forlornly, I checked my viewers and radio and other things. They were pretty fogged up with

insecticide powder and I had to clean them off.

The Countess Krak was drinking a cup of something, probably Bavarian Mocha Mint, and watching

Heller busily putting things in glass jars.

"What are those things, dear?" she said from her stool at the bar.

"Spore cultures," he said. "I'm just checking Crobe's formula. In a few days I'll know if they're

all right."

"Can't you do it sooner, dear? I don't think this planet is very good for us."

"Well, honey, some things take as long as they take. These people pretty well let this planet go

down the drain. And this mission has got to be a success."

DEATH QUEST

"Yes," she said. "It has to be a success." She looked into her coffee for a bit. Then she looked

up and said, "Is there anything I can do to push it along?"

He went over to her, put his arm around her and said, "You just go on being pretty and smile in

the right places and it will all come off just fine." He kissed her and she clung to him for a

moment.

She smiled suddenly and gave him a playful push. "Honey, you just better get back to work. In

fact, I'm going to go out shopping to remove temptation."

They both laughed.

I didn't. She was egging him on, egging him on. She would ruin everything! I shut off the viewers

angrily.

This was certainly no laughing matter. As long as that fiend was with him and alive, he would go

speeding along toward completion, ruining everything.

The best thing to handle it was one well-placed sniper bullet. She was always walking around

unescorted. Too easy.

The thought of a Countess Krak lying dead was a vision which spurred me into action.

Chapter 2

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Although some people do it, running around New York with no clothes on was no way to go about

hiring a hit man.

All my raiment was gone. But that is easily replaced in New York. All I had to do was catch a bus

down

L. RON HUBBARD

DEATH QUEST

Seventh Avenue to get to the Garment District. In all directions around 37th Street, there are

shops, shops, shops that sell clothes, clothes, clothes.

The first problem was clothes to buy clothes in. I still had my military boots even though they

were a bit gray with DDT. The problem was with the upper areas.

They had dusted their own clothes but despite copious coughing I finally found an old raincoat

that was big enough. I put it on, stuffed my I.D. and money in a pocket and was on my way.

Fortunately, nobody ever looks at anybody in New York. Riding on a bus in a mauve woman's raincoat

did not attract too much attention.

Shortly, I was in a shop whose signs proclaimed that it had everything for the gent. It was very

nice. A sort of miniature department store. The proprietor himself waited on me. He was a very

well-informed Jew. He knew what all the fashions were, from one end of the world to the other. He

expressed only sympathy when I told him all my clothes had been lost in a fire. He went right to

work. There was only one thing odd about the proceedings. He kept putting things on me and then

calling to his wife—a charming lady named Rebecca—and asking her opinion. They never consulted me.

They debated this and that about four-button sack jackets as opposed to two-button sack jackets

for a man of my build, or theatrical collars as opposed to Ivy League collars for my face shape.

But whatever the debate, she would finally stand back, rub her hands and say, "Oy, don't he look

handsome in that." And the proprietor would say, "Good, he'll take it." They never asked my

opinion once.

I wound up with several suits, topcoats, shoes,

assorted hats and haberdashery. I walked out very well dressed, carrying a tower of boxes. There

was only one thing wrong: they had, by some mysterious calculation I could not fathom, estimated

my bankroll to the penny. All I had left was a handful of bus tokens which they didn't seem to

want. A marvel of mathematical subtraction.

I now had the whole ten thousand to go. But such was the lure of the vision of a dead and bleeding

Countess Krak that I was not daunted in the least. Something would turn up.

With my new wardrobe safely deposited in the apartment, I caught a bus downtown. With many a lurch

and roar, I landed in the Bowery.

I stood and looked at the black-glass and chrome high-rise with the sign Total Control, Inc.

fanned out in a splendid arch: the office building of the Faustino mob. My plan was to hire a hit

man on credit.

My suit was charcoal gray with a banker pinstripe. My shirt was impeccable mauve silk. My tie was

a patriotic red, white and blue. My topcoat was the finest black. I reeked prosperity. Credit

should be easy.

I walked past the murals depicting American history in drugs. I was not carrying a gun. And there

was Angelina, her pretty brunette self. She remembered me. And why not? She had personally dumped

me down the chute of the fake elevator.

"It's about time you showed up, Inkswitch," she said.

At last somebody had noticed I'd been gone!

"Accounts has been raising hell since you skipped out of your hotel."

"I did no skipping," I said stiffly. "Tell Faustino I have arrived."

"Buster, you ain't seeing the capo today." She had

L. RON HUBBARD

been punching a computer. She read the screen. "You're several months overdue for an appointment

with the consigliere."

"I'm sure there has been some misunderstanding," I said.

"Well, you just go misunderstand it with him." She beckoned to a security guard and I found myself

in an elevator. It was a real one this time. So I was making progress. We shot up to the fortieth

floor. I was shoved into an executive office.

Razza Louseini was sitting at his desk. His reptilian eyes fastened upon me. The knife scar that

ran up from mouth to left ear went livid.

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file:///F|/rah/L%20Ron%20Hubbard/Mission%20Earth%2006%20-%20Death%20Quest.txt

"So you're Inkswitch," he said. "I was looking for a much more prepossessing man."

"I want to hire a hit man on credit," I said. I didn't want him to get into all that Italian

circumlocution.

"I'll bet you do," said Razza. "And that's what I wanted to see you about. Credit. When are you

going to pay?" He was waving a bill! "You hired two snipers last fall. You got them both killed.

And you never even had the decency to show up and pay the compensation. This bill," and he waved

it with an Italian gesture for emphasis, "has been the subject of more legal correspondence than

any other item on my desk! Attorney after attorney, collection agency after collection agency.

Letters, letters, letters! I am sick of them! A consigliere has better things to do than mess

around with delinquent accounts."

I was beginning to become uneasy. It must be an astronomical bill!

He was, Italian-wise, carrying on. "You know the rules. Liquidate or get liquidated. So when are

you going to get this God (bleeped) bill off my God (bleeped) plate?"

DEATH QUEST

"What's wrong with it?"

He echoed that a few times. "Swindle and Crouch won't pay it because they have no matching

voucher. The Federal government won't pay it because you never signed it. Octopus Oil won't pay it

because the third assistant vice-president didn't initial the requisition. Letters, letters,

letters! Torrents of letters! And where are you? You can't be found. Skipped out of your hotel..."

"Wait a minute," I said, "I wasn't in any hotel."

"Well, whatever your story is, Inkswitch, you've had every (bleeped) computer in the organization

so screwed up, it's cost a fortune in fuses."

"How much is this bill?" I said.

"Two thousand dollars," said Razza Louseini. "It isn't the money. It's the organizational screw-

up. We've got to get it paid just to straighten out the computers. They're so crazy on the subject

by this time that they gibber. Just yesterday we were trying to do a cost accounting for hit men

for the CIA and all we could get on the printouts was the cost of Cape Canaveral. Pay this God

(bleeped) bill!"

I can be pretty cunning about these things. I said, "All right, Consigliere, I'll tell you what

I'll do. I'll pay that bill, but you give me another hit man."

He thought about it. Sicilians are pretty quick to spot who has the leverage. "When?" he said.

"In just two or three days. I have to go into some things for it."

His reptilian eyes were pretty slitted. "All right," he said. "I'll put all this on hold."

I'walked out, practically treading on air. I wasn't ten thousand in the red, I was only two

thousand.

Two thousand to go and one dead Countess Krak!

L. RON HUBBARD

Chapter 3

That very night, an omen of success came my way.

I was still, as both Miss Pinch and Candy emphatically told me, in the doghouse over this fleas

business. Women get so picky about the smallest little things.

They worked all evening getting things arranged for their "open house," as they were suddenly

calling it. And I overheard that it was to be held the very following night.

I had been keeping out of the way, trying to work out how to get two thousand dollars. I had not

been paid for yesterday and I doubted I would be paid for today or tomorrow. They had been working

themselves to exhaustion and I had been relegated to the back room at night. I was getting no

chance to run up a bill and earn my money.

About eleven, all other sallies having failed, I came up with a cunning idea: I would get

interested in the decor. The new furniture was all in the shape of clamshells and tall, thick

posts with rounded tops. The walls were a green seascape below a yellow sky. The curtains and

borders of the rooms looked like sea foam. As I often watched TV commercials, I thought it might

be an ad for shaving cream.

So, as they hurried about, I asked, "What are you trying to put up? A shaving cream ad?"

Well, I must say, that got a response.

"Aphrodite!" snapped Miss Pinch acidly. "The goddess of love, you lunkhead. The sea, the undulant

waves

DEATH QUEST

repeating in sensuous curves, the phallic symbols stabbing nobly upward, the foam. Haven't you

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