The Game of X: A Novel of Upmanship Espionage by Robert Sheckley Read Free Book Online

Under the circumstances, I decided to bide my time.
    The tourists trooped away. They were laughing now, and accusing the guide of staging the whole thing. I heard the first door slam shut; then, more faintly, the second. No one-was left in the torture chamber but us chickens.
    It grew extremely quiet. Some minutes passed. Then the door creaked open and heavy footsteps crossed the room.
    “You may turn him loose.”
    At that moment, the light came on. Beppo unwound his arm and withdrew his knife from my side. In front of me stood my old buddy Forster.
     
    “Mr. Nye,” he said, “I had predicted that we would meet again very soon; but of course, I had no idea that it would be so very soon, and in such a convenient place.”
    I had no snappy comeback for that, so I kept quiet. Forster said, “The Palazzo is closed after five; the last group of tourists is leaving now. With the doors shut, no sound can be heard in the corridor. The guide and the night watchman have received their payment. Mr. Nye, we have a long, undisturbed night ahead of us.”
    “Forster, you are fiendishly clever,” I said. “I am willing to admit that now.”
    “That is good of you. Will you spare yourself some unpleasantness and tell me where to find Karinovsky?”
    “I’d like to know where he is myself,” I said. “He was supposed to meet me here.”
    “But he did not come. Where was your secondary meeting place?”
    “We didn’t have one.”
    “Where is Karinovsky living?”
    “I don’t know.”
    Forster shook his large and impressive head. “It won’t do, Mr. Nye, it simply will not do. You have had ample time to find out where Karinovsky is. If he didn’t meet you here, then you must have arranged for another place. Tell me.”
    I shook my head unhappily.
    “I don’t like this, Nye; but you force me to use coercion.”
    I started to tell him again that I knew nothing. He cut me short.
    “You know, and you will tell,” Forster said.
    “Since you refuse to be a good sport about it, you can continue the discussion with my colleague, Dr. Jansen.”
    Forster turned away. I tried to think of something to say. Then I sensed movement behind me, and I remembered Beppo. I started to turn, but something hit me across the back of the head, and I lost consciousness.
     
     

 
    9
     
     
    I awoke to find myself playing a fairly important role in a vintage horror film. My wrists were manacled in front of me, and secured around my waist by a length of chain. This in turn was padlocked to a massive iron staple in the wall. Standing up, I found that I could shuffle a few feet from the floor before the chain brought me up short.
    I twisted to one side and felt my right-hand jacket pocket. Guesci’s revolver was no longer there. I hadn’t thought it would be, but I was disappointed anyhow.
    I examined the handcuffs. They were modern and efficient. My chain was heavy enough to moor a tugboat with. The padlock was new, and the staple was firmly set in the wall.
    “Are you satisfied with the preparations?” a voice asked. It was a deep, ominous voice, slightly fruity. Enter the mad perfesser.”
    I looked around, and for a moment I saw no one. At last I looked down.
    “I am Dr. Jansen,” he said.
    He was a dwarf, about two and a half feet high, with a large, finely shaped head and blue pop eyes behind heavy glasses. He wore a dark business suit with a rubber apron over it. He also wore a beard. He looked like a tiny Paul Muni playing a miniature Pasteur.
    Another man was sitting against the wall, his face almost lost in the shadows. At first I thought it was Forster, come to watch the fun. But it was only Beppo.
    “I have monitored your conversations with Mr. Forster,” Jansen told me. “My impression was of an intelligent man. I certainly hope so. You see, the effectiveness of coercion techniques—that is to say, their net efficiency in terms of time and energy expended—increases with the intelligence of the subject.”
    I had never