A Talent For The Invisible (v1.1) by Ron Goulart Read Free Book Online Page B

Commander-in-Chief to his ball, including the high-peaked gold-trimmed hat. “I only cried out in surprise because I was prepared to indulge in some of my favorite dances, the rhythms of my people. The old venerable beat which is the true pulse of the humble but proud man in the street and …”
    “I thought,” put in the tall ambassador, “to show the duchess a little trucking.”
    Conger continued to circle the ball room. Another fifty guests, none of them resembled Machado, had added themselves to the crowd since he’d arrived. He decided to check the balconies.
    None of the balconies had a railing, each was protected by an invisible force screen. Two cat girls were leaning against the force screen on the first balcony Conger inspected. They were talking in Portuguese to a man Conger guessed was a US embassy security android.
    From here he could see the garden where Canguru lurked. He took a pair of specially tinted glasses from the kit strapped to his side. The little blond spy was supposed to send him periodical flash signals to let him know when and if Machado appeared.
    As soon as he had the glasses on he saw Canguru’s signal light flashing far below. The tiny specks of light spelled out a coded message.
    Translated it said, “What a nitwit code this is. No logic to it at all. Tedious, too, after a few thousand blinks. They made the button on this light in such a way that your thumb starts to ache in no time at all. Well, in case you’re watching … This is to let you know I’ve just received word from one of my sources that Machado will not show tonight. Repeat. Machado is not coming to the dance. Don’t ask me why. You know how these revolutionaries are. It’s a wonder they ever pull off any coups at all. I’ll repeat this nitwit message every ten minutes for awhile and then I’m going to call it a night.”
    Giving an invisible shrug, Conger left the balcony. He didn’t see Angelica in the ball room now. Well, he was on orders not to fraternize anyway. Still, he might as well tell her, if he could do it unobtrusively, what he’d found out about Machado.
    She was out on the third balcony beyond the bandstand. A smiling Chinese was chatting at the girl, his champagne glass cupped in both plump hands.
    Between Conger and the two of them stood an entertainment android mounted on a box-like pedestal. The mechanism was softly playing flamenco music on his silver guitar.
    Conger watched the pretty slim Angelica for a moment, deciding it wasn’t safe to talk to her now. He sealed up his invisible coat against the chill wind which came blowing across the balcony terrace. He turned to re-enter the dancing area.
    “Wind?” he said to himself.
    The force screen wasn’t supposed to let in anything but the view.
    Conger carefully crossed to the edge of the balcony. The dots of guards and still-arriving guests moved through the ritual of admittance hundreds of feet down. He stretched out his hand and it continued out beyond the lip of the balcony and into chill dark night. Someone had turned off the guarding system.
    He looked toward Angelica just in time to see the smiling red-cheeked Chinese toss his glass away into the night and grab the girl around the waist.
    “Hey now!” cried Angelica.
    “I wouldn’t do this if it were up to me alone,” apologized the amiable Chinese.
    Conger was there beside them now. He caught hold of the girl’s shoulders, pulling back.
    Surprised at the unseen force, the Chinese assassin let go of Angelica.
    He wobbled back two steps and his heels went over the edge of the balcony. He stayed there on the edge, ticking, arms flapping, neither safe nor falling.
    Conger shoved the girl toward the ball room entrance. “Get back inside.”
    He lunged, catching at the teetering Chinese’s suit front. He dug in his heels, yanking the plump man in.
    When the Chinese was back on the balcony completely he said, “Must be one of those invisible American bastards.” He kicked out at