Hisst leads Gris into the hellish depths of Spiteos, taking "the tubes" down to level -501 to visit and hopefully recruit the captive Jettero Heller. Gris takes a trip to the armory beforehand and picks up a "blaststick" as a precaution against attacking prisoners or the former criminals the Apparatus uses as guards. I guess since this is "satire" we're not allowed to question how an organization whose personnel prey upon each other in such a manner is expected to maintain an elaborate conspiracy, let alone function for an extended amount of time. Hubbard might have wondered the same thing about the real CIA.
These lower levels of the Apparatus' secret prison are full of moldy wire cages containing twisted figures, the results of sadistic surgeries conducted in laboratories closer to the surface. Now I'd love to say this bit of satire is the result of the author's paranoia, but unfortunately it has a basis in fact - the CIA has a pretty disgusting history of medical experiments beginning during the Cold War. But in fairness, the real-life CIA was more interested in truth serums and the most efficient torture techniques than in taking apart and reassembling people into horrifying new shapes. Hubbard's version of it is more about evil for evil's sake than gathering data through unethical and inhumane means. We'll get the full horrorshow later.
When they reach Jettero's cell, they find him down to his sport pants, caked with blood from his unhealed stab-wound, and bound with electrified handcuffs to a stone slab. There's no indication that he's been given any food and water over the past four days, yet Heller remains cool and composed despite it all because he's Hubbard's wish-fulfillment character. He dryly remarks that the "drunks" have arrived at last, and Gris takes a moment to explain the insult - the Apparatus' official insignia is a truncheon with its grip pointed skyward, which the Fleet interprets as a bottle. I have no idea if this is a reference to real-life CIA slang.
Lombar Hisst announces that Heller is going through some particularly vigorous qualification tests rather than being illegally detained, then tells Gris to finish up the deception and scurries off. An off-balance Gris begins by asking how Heller knew that the orderly was a fake. Heller's quiet for a moment, then responds by asking how a fellow Academy graduate (he can tell by Gris' accent) ended up in the Apparatus.
Gris' reaction is rather strange - he surges with rage, infuriated by Heller's arrogance in pitying him. His "wits had been dispersed in all directions" by this simple question, and then there's the cliched "who was the prisoner here?" line. I guess it's like Silence of the Lambs when Hannibal Lector gives that ruthlessly insightful analysis of his jailer... except all Heller asked was "what sad route brought you to the 'drunks?'" So it's the abridged version of the Hannibal Lecture.
Gris doesn't answer Heller's astonishingly effective inquiry, and instead presses his earlier question, insisting it's a test of Heller's perception and reaction. Heller explains that not only were the bogus courier's belt and spats being worn wrong, but he also caught the bulge of the concealed knife behind his neck. But mostly it was the smell - apparently Fleet personnel who don't bathe or exercise good hygiene run the risk of being killed by their crewmates over cases of bad B.O. And as well all know, those dastardly criminals in the CIA are a slovenly, malodorous lot.
Heller is convinced that he's flunked this "test" because he didn't smell the ozone from Hisst's electrified whip, but Gris assures him to the contrary. Then he asks why the dashing athlete threw the match prior to his capture, to which Heller replies that his opponent's girlfriend was in the audience and he didn't want to embarrass him in front of her. Gris quite rightfully points out that lobbing easy catches at the other player was just another way to humiliate him, but Heller waves that off by insisting that him stepping out of bounds was a suitable distraction. Gris doesn't buy it because compassion is a fatal weakness, while I don't buy it because no matter how he did it Heller was shaming his foe by so obviously forfeiting. But in the end Gris exclaims that Heller has passed the imaginary test "with all tubes blasting!"
And so begins the wacky hijinks as a seasoned intelligence operative attempts to manage an honorable man lacking any sort of guile and deceit for an all-important undercover mission that's secretly supposed to fail.
Back to Chapter One
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