Aliens Alien Harvest - By Robert Sheckley Page 0,14

notes neatly printed in a tiny handwriting.

"This, my dear, is what any successful thief needs - a plan."

"That's what you got from Gibberman?"

"I've used his plans for several years," Julie said. "He's very thorough."

"So who are you going to rob?" Stan asked.

"A wealthy Saudi oilman named Khalil. He arrived in New York two days ago. He's going to the Metropolitan Opera tomorrow night to watch a special performance of The Desert Song. While he's away I'll relieve him of certain items he usually keeps in his apartment."

"Where is this to take place?"

"He's staying at the Plaza."

"Wow," Stan said. "I never thought I'd be doing this."

"You're not," Julie said. "I am. You'll have to wait for me at home. I always work alone."

"But we're partners now. We do everything together."

He looked so crestfallen that Julie felt a pang of sorrow for him.

"Stan," she said, "you know that robot you've built? Would you trust me to do micro soldering on his interior circuits?"

"Of course not," Stan said. "You haven't had the training... Oh, I see what you mean. But it's not really the same thing."

"It's the exact same thing," Julie said.

"I just hate to see you going into this alone."

"Don't worry about me. Nothing ever goes wrong with my plans. And if it does, I can take care of it."
Chapter 10
The Plaza Hotel had suffered some damage during the recent time of the aliens, but had since regained at least a semblance of its former elegance. Julie went there that evening wearing a stunning red cocktail dress. She looked, if not exactly like a celebrity, then definitely like a celebrity's girlfriend. The doorman opened the door for her, bowing deeply. She entered the big, brilliantly lit lobby. The reception desk was straight ahead. She didn't want to get too close to it yet. She glanced at her watch as if she was expecting to meet somebody. All the time she was taking in the details.

People were very well dressed. This was a place where money was in very good supply.

To one side a small orchestra was playing a quaint song from olden times called "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes." People were coming in and out of the bar with its glowing mahogany paneling and its soft indirect lighting. She would have liked a drink now, but she had an unbreakable rule: no alcohol or any other kind of drug while she was on a job.

She looked around the bar and then the lobby. Her practiced eye picked out the security men, two of them near the potted palms. She could always tell who they were. They just didn't look like the guests, no matter how well they dressed. She counted five of them. They gave her admiring glances but there was nothing suspicious in their looks. So far so good.

The big hotel was in full swing. There were lights everywhere, and elegant people, and the accoutrements of success. You could smell it in the five dollar cigars and the expensive perfume on the white shoulders of the women; in the aroma of roast beef, the real thing, wafting out from under silver servers as black coated waiters brought the well laden plates around; in the very carpet, permeated with expensive preservatives and subtle smelling oils.

Julie went to the elevators. One was reserved for the penthouse suites. There was a man standing near it, rocking back and forth on his heels as he surveyed the passing crowds. Julie made him for a plainclothes cop, maybe somebody's bodyguard. She walked on past and went through a set of corridors back into the main lobby. She was pretty sure the guy at the penthouse elevator hadn't noticed her. She was also sure a frontal assault on the apartment wasn't the best idea.

Gibberman had taken this possibility into account. Next door to the Plaza was the Hotel Van Dyke. Khalil's apartment was a penthouse in the Plaza. If, for any reason, Julie didn't want to use the elevator, Gibberman had indicated an ingenious alternate way of gaining entry. It involved swinging from an unoccupied top floor apartment in the Van Dyke, and going in through Khalil's window. A cat burglar act, but that was one of Julie's specialties. She wished Stan could be here to watch her. But it wouldn't be safe, and it might distract her.

She had no trouble slipping into the Van Dyke with a group of people going to the top floor restaurant. When they got off at the top floor, Julie got