And then there are those villainous protagonists with no redeeming features whatsoever, who hurt good people and have no noble goals to excuse their vile actions. Such as Soltan Gris.
After sending his driver off to pick up a woman who will optimistically be paid for her sexual services, Gris reconsiders yelling for a luggage boy in order to have some fun. He creeps into the slumbering Roman-style villa, where two families of Turkish peasants share the old slave quarters. Gris wants to complain about the grass being unkempt or the floors dirty, but alas, his servants have done excellent work maintaining the grounds during his trip to "America." He's about to give up on having his little "joke," but then he remember Faht Bey telling him how his last prostitute stole all his clothes before running off.
With this excuse in mind, Gris pulls his gun, turns on his flashlight, kicks open the door to the servants' bedroom, fires into the ceiling, and screams "Jandarma!" (police). The serving staff starts screaming too, falling out of bed in a panic, and the chaos only increases when a local security force rushes in to investigate the gunshots. But when the security detail sees it's old "Sultan Bey" they start laughing, even while one of the children starts throwing up. A mother wails that she knew "Sultan Bey" would be angry when he found out about the clothes, but an eight-year-old crawls on his hands and knees to beg Gris not to kill them, since they pooled their money to buy replacements.
Oh, it was a great homecoming.
Gris orders the groundskeeper to go tend to the (perfect) gardens, the cook to get breakfast going (it's still dark), has the cleaners start dusting (needlessly), and demands that his accountant get everything in order before dawn.
As I walked to my room, I burst out laughing. How different than Voltar.
How good it was to be home!
Here, I was power itself!
On this planet, I could get anything executed, even Heller!
Melahat, the dumpy widow who runs the serving staff, follows Gris in to show him his replacement wardrobe, complaining about how his old girl was trouble. Gris tells her that a new one will be arriving shortly and will be housed in "that room that used to be used for tools." Then he hits the kitchen to enjoy a genuine Turkish meal, and while Gris breakfasts he orders Karagoz, the official head servant, to come in. Gris berates the man for stealing and selling all the rugs and tapestries, while both know full well that Gris sold them all off the last time he was here, and of course Karagoz can't argue with his master. Gris demands that he buy some expensive replacements, hand over any commission money, and slash the staff's food budget by half, before dismissing the man.
I sat there grinning. I really knew how to handle people. Psychology is a wonderful thing. A true tool in my line of business.
Note that Hubbard forgot to have Gris do any of his Psychology! on anyone in this or the last chapter. He's not invoking the reptilian part of people's brains, he's just being a dick.
While musing that he can get away with anything on Earth, Gris remembers Heller and rushes back to his room. Not the one that the staff knows about, but his secret room, accessed through a hidden door and buried underground. It has his real wardrobe, a weapons cache, disguise kit, passports, the works. Gris changes clothes (black slacks, loafers, and a "sport shirt with flaming poinsettias" - "no movie gangster ever looked more at home") and settles back to spy on Heller with those magical biological bugs.
...This is going to be a tough book, I can tell.
Back to Chapter Seven
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