From: Lester <maxim@netcom.com>
Date: Thu, 23 Oct 1997 11:29:02 -0700 (PDT)
Subject: The Logo Fyles #9
Message-id: <Pine.3.89.9710231145.A5569-0100000@netcom13>
"There's one possie still available."
"Oh?" Brond pondered. "You mean the Afghan ingo? That one never gets-- " Brond stopped. "Is that why you asked me about the passport?"
Skudler nodded impatiently. "Arrangements have been made. It's unlikely the Afghanis will notice that their Wordgame honor is being represented by someone on their most wanted list." Skudler's near smile curled again, "But it might pay you to keep a low profile. And, who knows, if you play well, the shura might revoke the fatwa." Skudler paused. "Of course, if you disgrace yourself, they may double the price."
Brond's could feel his fingernails turn bleuatre. Skudler would never stop narking him, even though the incriminating piece of shrapnel was the mico's own fault. Dammit, he thought, but he said nothing. He would not give the bandar the pleasure.
"Anyway, they're quite busy with civil war right now." Skudler said smugly.
"Yes, you've seen to that." Brond remembered the contraband he had been ordered to owl in. Everything from jezails to Stingers. In return, Unicity Petroleum would have a new pipeline.
"Well, no use crying over spilt milkos," Skudler took a briefcase out from under his desk. "You'll find what you need in here. An envelope with cash and instructions. Some books that may help you prepare. "Wordgame for Malmags." "Five Vowel Bingo Strategy for Aging Dyslexics" by Camaieu and Moineau. "Everything Wordgame."
"The whole thing's absurd," Brond said, but he began opening the case, curious.
"If you don't mind, Brond, take it away. I do have other things to do."
Brond snapped the case shut and got up. "I'll think it over."
"Well, it will be fine with me if you turn it down. The agency has enough egg on its face without more of your bloomers. But you know," he arched an eyebrow, "you might want a chance to get back at the 'Snebs' for hustling you."
So the bastard knew.