“Come on in,” Pete said, closing the door behind him with a furtive glance up and down the block. “Can I get you a drink?”
Bert always enjoyed the cloak-and-daggers. “What’s a matter, Pete? Chinese after you?”
Pete laughed as he ushered his friend through the living room, then the kitchen, then down to his workshop in the basement. Pete’s laughter sounded strained to Bert. There was also a strong odor of alcohol when he talked. Bert wondered what the game was, but was a patient enough man to let events unfold without showing his hand.
The fat little physicist hit a switch and a dual row of fluorescent lights illuminated a large white table. Tools hung neatly on the pegboard, above dozens of drawers holding everything from screws and washers to capacitors and small electromagnetic motors. Pete threw a short chubby leg over a metal stool and swung one of those circular magnifying lights down from the ceiling.
Bert noted that his pal was sweating profusely. He wrinkled his nose at the sour smell, but steeled himself. Pete’s basement was small, with no windows or doors other than the one at the top of the staircase they came down. It was claustrophobic, but Pete said he felt safe down here examining his prizes. On more than one occasion Pete came up with a fantastic score for the both of them. They were both rich, thanks to Pete’s acquisitions and Bert’s ability to sell them. Of course, neither could flaunt it, or the feds would come down on them in a heartbeat.
“Get a load of this,” Pete whispered. “This is hot. H. O. T. We’re gonna have to move on this fast.” He opened up a small box and retrieved a tiny object. Gingerly, beads of sweat dripping and hands trembling, he handed it over.
“It’s a ring,” Bert noted, disappointed, but grinned nonetheless. “What is this, some sorta marriage proposal?”
He expected the little fat man to laugh. But Pete only whispered, in a quavering voice, “Ever hear of the Ring of Gyges?”
“The ring of who? No.”
“The Ring of Gyges. It’s Plato. Take a closer look. But don’t put it on.”
Bert wondered where this was going. Was he to fence a stolen ring? It didn’t look valuable. Any more than a wedding band might be valuable. Gold. Weird braided engraving running the outer perimeter. Other than that, nothing. “Is this Plato’s ring? Coupla centuries old, is that it?”
Pete laughed. “No. We developed it. My company. You ever read The Republic?”
“You’re talking to an eighth-grade dropout.”
“How about The Lord of the Rings?”
“Saw the movies.” Bert made a show of glancing at his watch. He handed the gold ring back to Pete. “Listen, old chum, unless you tell me different, I could probably get five or six for this. Your cut, twenty-five hundred.”
Pete shook his head and threw back the last of his drink. “Gyges was a shepherd boy in ancient Greece. One day, there’s lightning, there’s an explosion, and the earth at his feet splits open. He goes into this new cavern, finds this ring, which he puts on.”
“This ring?”
The little fat man ignored him. “Goes back to the village, discovers no one can see him.” He glanced up at Bert, eyes on fire. “So what does he do?”
Bert moved the toothpick around to the other side of his mouth. “I dunno. Put it on and stole some jewels.”
“Even better, Bert my boy.” Pete kept turning over the small ring in his hands, careful to avoid slipping it on. “He puts it on, has his way with the Queen, seduces her afterwards with plans of ruling the kingdom hand-in-hand. They both kill her husband, the King, and Gyges becomes supreme ruler of Greece. He’s rich, he’s powerful, and his enemies can’t touch him.”
A light dawned upon Bert. “How does it work?”
“Bends light. The ring is actually a gravity-wave generating machine nanometers in size. Don’t even ask where we got the technology from. Just let me say two words: Reverse engineering.” He paused, grinning weirdly as he brought the ring to his eye to look through. “Remember that special effect in that old Predator movie? Kinda like that. But much, much more effective. Completely effective. You know I’m quality control at the labs. I’ve seen the test results.”
“So how much is it worth?”
“I want you to put word out for a hundred million.”
Bert whistled. “Now I understand the cloak and daggers.”
“Oh yeah. This is my final snatch. I’m not going back to the labs anymore.” Pete picked up his glass, forgot he emptied it. “And Bert, your cut will be twenty million. Non-negotiable.”
“Sure, buddy.” Bert laughed. “Twenty million is about a hundred times what I made last year.” He whistled again. “Say, Pete, I’ll take that drink now.”
“Good. I need a refill too.” He put the case with the ring under a clamp and swung the magnifying lamp over it. “See if you can find our security code on the inner band. It’s pure genius, and I had a helluva time fudging it to get it past the gates. Be right back.”
Pete ran up the stairs as fast as he could, and nervously dodged the curtain-drawn windows on the way to the kitchen. They’d be aware of the theft by now. He wouldn’t be a suspect until Monday morning, and by then he and Bert’d be south of the border. Untraceable. Bert was good at that. He paused at the bar, decided on vodka, nearly straight up. In honor of the Russians, he decided, who’d most likely be the proud new owners of the Ring of Gyges.
He carefully negotiated the stairs, full drinks in both hands. “I’d like to present a toast, Bert my boy, to Plato. How about …”
The basement was empty. Bert was gone. Huh? There was only one way down here –
Then he knew the ring was gone, too.
“So long, Pete,” he heard, from a spot directly in front of him. Then everything went dark.
Bert always enjoyed the cloak-and-daggers. “What’s a matter, Pete? Chinese after you?”
Pete laughed as he ushered his friend through the living room, then the kitchen, then down to his workshop in the basement. Pete’s laughter sounded strained to Bert. There was also a strong odor of alcohol when he talked. Bert wondered what the game was, but was a patient enough man to let events unfold without showing his hand.
The fat little physicist hit a switch and a dual row of fluorescent lights illuminated a large white table. Tools hung neatly on the pegboard, above dozens of drawers holding everything from screws and washers to capacitors and small electromagnetic motors. Pete threw a short chubby leg over a metal stool and swung one of those circular magnifying lights down from the ceiling.
Bert noted that his pal was sweating profusely. He wrinkled his nose at the sour smell, but steeled himself. Pete’s basement was small, with no windows or doors other than the one at the top of the staircase they came down. It was claustrophobic, but Pete said he felt safe down here examining his prizes. On more than one occasion Pete came up with a fantastic score for the both of them. They were both rich, thanks to Pete’s acquisitions and Bert’s ability to sell them. Of course, neither could flaunt it, or the feds would come down on them in a heartbeat.
“Get a load of this,” Pete whispered. “This is hot. H. O. T. We’re gonna have to move on this fast.” He opened up a small box and retrieved a tiny object. Gingerly, beads of sweat dripping and hands trembling, he handed it over.
“It’s a ring,” Bert noted, disappointed, but grinned nonetheless. “What is this, some sorta marriage proposal?”
He expected the little fat man to laugh. But Pete only whispered, in a quavering voice, “Ever hear of the Ring of Gyges?”
“The ring of who? No.”
“The Ring of Gyges. It’s Plato. Take a closer look. But don’t put it on.”
Bert wondered where this was going. Was he to fence a stolen ring? It didn’t look valuable. Any more than a wedding band might be valuable. Gold. Weird braided engraving running the outer perimeter. Other than that, nothing. “Is this Plato’s ring? Coupla centuries old, is that it?”
Pete laughed. “No. We developed it. My company. You ever read The Republic?”
“You’re talking to an eighth-grade dropout.”
“How about The Lord of the Rings?”
“Saw the movies.” Bert made a show of glancing at his watch. He handed the gold ring back to Pete. “Listen, old chum, unless you tell me different, I could probably get five or six for this. Your cut, twenty-five hundred.”
Pete shook his head and threw back the last of his drink. “Gyges was a shepherd boy in ancient Greece. One day, there’s lightning, there’s an explosion, and the earth at his feet splits open. He goes into this new cavern, finds this ring, which he puts on.”
“This ring?”
The little fat man ignored him. “Goes back to the village, discovers no one can see him.” He glanced up at Bert, eyes on fire. “So what does he do?”
Bert moved the toothpick around to the other side of his mouth. “I dunno. Put it on and stole some jewels.”
“Even better, Bert my boy.” Pete kept turning over the small ring in his hands, careful to avoid slipping it on. “He puts it on, has his way with the Queen, seduces her afterwards with plans of ruling the kingdom hand-in-hand. They both kill her husband, the King, and Gyges becomes supreme ruler of Greece. He’s rich, he’s powerful, and his enemies can’t touch him.”
A light dawned upon Bert. “How does it work?”
“Bends light. The ring is actually a gravity-wave generating machine nanometers in size. Don’t even ask where we got the technology from. Just let me say two words: Reverse engineering.” He paused, grinning weirdly as he brought the ring to his eye to look through. “Remember that special effect in that old Predator movie? Kinda like that. But much, much more effective. Completely effective. You know I’m quality control at the labs. I’ve seen the test results.”
“So how much is it worth?”
“I want you to put word out for a hundred million.”
Bert whistled. “Now I understand the cloak and daggers.”
“Oh yeah. This is my final snatch. I’m not going back to the labs anymore.” Pete picked up his glass, forgot he emptied it. “And Bert, your cut will be twenty million. Non-negotiable.”
“Sure, buddy.” Bert laughed. “Twenty million is about a hundred times what I made last year.” He whistled again. “Say, Pete, I’ll take that drink now.”
“Good. I need a refill too.” He put the case with the ring under a clamp and swung the magnifying lamp over it. “See if you can find our security code on the inner band. It’s pure genius, and I had a helluva time fudging it to get it past the gates. Be right back.”
Pete ran up the stairs as fast as he could, and nervously dodged the curtain-drawn windows on the way to the kitchen. They’d be aware of the theft by now. He wouldn’t be a suspect until Monday morning, and by then he and Bert’d be south of the border. Untraceable. Bert was good at that. He paused at the bar, decided on vodka, nearly straight up. In honor of the Russians, he decided, who’d most likely be the proud new owners of the Ring of Gyges.
He carefully negotiated the stairs, full drinks in both hands. “I’d like to present a toast, Bert my boy, to Plato. How about …”
The basement was empty. Bert was gone. Huh? There was only one way down here –
Then he knew the ring was gone, too.
“So long, Pete,” he heard, from a spot directly in front of him. Then everything went dark.
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