He shrugged. He could remember that first fellow practically begging him to take action and he could remember his own frightened evaluation of the situation after the first step. He had gone over a whole, long line of alternative choices, rejecting them one by one until the inevitable, ideal method of operation had come out. He smiled.
When he had finally settled on his general method, it had been elegantly simple. But it had been very nearly perfect. Basically, he was still using the same plan.
Now, of course, it was smoother and even more simplified. There were two general routines involved.
Most caravan masters were treated with the greatest of consideration.
They were allowed to pass through the Estates with only nominal fees and invited to avail themselves of the courtesy of the Estates at any time in the future. If trades with the Estates were involved, the fees were waived, of course. And many of them had returned, bringing goods and information, as well as taking away the produce of the Estates.
Then, there were those caravans which came during turbulences in the null and which seemed worthwhile to the now practiced eyes of Kio Barra. These were the ones ripe for harvest. Their owners had been offered the courtesy of the Estates—and more.
They had been taken for sightseeing tours—perhaps of the lake—perhaps to see valuable carrier stock which could be had at bargain rates.
Then, in complete privacy, a distorter beam had made neat disposition of them.
Their goods had been distributed through the various warehouses and later disposed of through the safe channels which Barra had carefully cultivated. Their slaves, of course, had been eliminated.
Barra regretted this waste of valuable property, but this way there could be no leak of information and no inquiry could be successful.