He registered for the competition and sent his particulars up with it, and naturally they came through the checks without a fault and passed straight off; there was nothing left but to wait for the thing to open and take his part in it.
"Ding-dong, ding-dong—"
He had not been sitting long when there was a stir outside. Someone was knocking.
"It's Nolan."
One probe of his psychic power told Vance who had come: Nolan, of the same intake of Team Rocket recruits as himself, and Lt. Surge's nephew besides. When Vance's travels took him to Vermilion City, Nolan had happened to give him a hand, and had entertained him warmly afterwards.
And it was his word of warning that let Vance make up all eight Badges at a stroke and save himself no end of trouble.
Even the business of Zweilous had his hand in it: it was how Vance came to board the S.S. Anne and catch it while it was still a Deino.
Nolan was pleasant company, a decent sort into the bargain, and he had kept in touch with Vance often since.
"Ha ha — Vance, I knew you'd come."
Nolan was laughing out loud before he was through the door, and caught him in a bear hug.
"Of course I came. What did I collect the Badges for, otherwise?"
Vance answered once they had let go, and the two of them came into the hall, sat down and fell to talking.
"So you've entered this Indigo Conference too. I thought you weren't going to."
Vance said it with a small laugh.
"Ha ha, that was then and this is now. I took an interest, so I came along for the fun of it. It looks as though there might be something in it."
Nolan looked as though it made no odds to him.
Getting eight Badges was no difficulty at all, and by whatever channel they came it made no difference.
"And not only me. There are a good few of our own in this Conference. Even Cerise is here."
Nolan brought that up in the middle of the talk.
"She's come as well? That's good of her."
"Good indeed. She's quite something these days — Gym-class psychic power all on its own, and Sabrina thinks highly of her. Tut, tut, tut."
Nolan's face was all envy.
Both of them may be the one in charge of a city, but there is a difference all the same.
His uncle Lt. Surge, for instance, was no match for Sabrina of Saffron City, either in fighting strength or in the resources he had in hand.
Above all she was a Psychic, and that was the part Nolan envied.
"I don't suppose you'd heard. She broke through a few days ago. She told me about it at the time — she wanted to get in touch with you and couldn't find any word of you."
"Gym-class psychic power. That really is something."
Vance nodded along with him. To break through to Gym-class at her age counted as genius.
Very impressive, a great deal of potential, worth bringing on.
Everybody agreed on that, and it would be the same anywhere you went.
"Ha ha ha — big words from you."
"Not so bad, not so bad. She couldn't reach me because I was carrying out a task the Boss set me, and it was on the confidential side."
"Ah. So that's how it is."
Nolan had no suspicion of it, and turned to other matters, and took out a small booklet and turned the pages for Vance to look at.
Inside was one Trainer after another, with their particulars set down: who they were, what their chief Pokémon was, all of it noted.
It was intelligence Team Rocket had gathered; there was no doubting the truth of it.
"It's yours. Mind those few in the front of it."
Nolan tossed the booklet to Vance and clapped his hands together.
"Right. Thanks."
"Don't talk like that."
Old friends meeting have a great deal to say, and in the course of the talk Vance picked up no little information.
None of it the sort of thing you hear on the outside.
Vance had kept at the work of gathering news from outside all along. Emery and Ambrose sent him sorted intelligence at intervals, so that he never came to be shut off from what was happening.
Even the Meowth "trio" got word to him now and then, though the three of them were not under him at present.
The importance of news goes without saying.
In this line of work you really cannot do without it.
Otherwise you would not even know where you had died.
"Ha ha. I'm off. We'll talk another day."
They talked on until late in the night, and then Nolan rose, took his leave and went.
"You could put up here. There's room enough."
Vance said it to keep him.
"No, no, I've a place of my own. And I've to work with my Pokémon a bit, so they do me credit at the Conference. I don't doubt it's the same for you. Good luck."
Nolan declined, and walked out of the villa gate.
"Good luck to us both."
Vance did not press him again. He wished him luck and watched him go.
Nolan had left his address and how to reach him, so there would be a time to call on him.
"Besides these, who else is there from Team Rocket?"
Vance said it with a hand at his chin, guessing at it.
The League's Conference is also a way of picking out talent: do well in it, take the victory, and you may go into the League and be taken in as one of them, perhaps get the chance at an important post, and add to the League's strength.
The condition of entry to the Conference is eight Badges; besides that, certain universities of great name may recommend a set number of their own people — schools such as Celadon University.
Or else one may enter by passing the Conference authorities' examination and holding the corresponding qualification.
Of these the most numerous were still the Trainers who had made up their eight Badges, and they were the stronger fighters as well.
Most of the Conference champions of past years had come from among them.
Then Vance let it go. However many had come, they were no great problem to him in the short term, and of those he knew there were only one or two.
Back inside, Vance opened the booklet and read through it. Most of them were no more than Elite-class; Gym-class Trainers were rather thin on the ground.
As for Advanced and Intermediate, they did not appear in it at all — not thought worth the trouble, no doubt.
This was Team Rocket's intelligence on the Trainers of some name, and a few might well have been missed — the quiet ones, the ones with no great reputation.
Himself, for instance. Nothing about him had gone into it.
Vance was confident enough without reading the intelligence at all. Even allowing generously for the enemy, a few Elite-Four-class opponents would be neither here nor there; with Gyarados and the others at a strength equal to Elite-Four-class, there was nothing to be afraid of.
Besides which, at that level there could not be many of them.
He put the booklet aside without ceremony, sat down cross-legged on the sofa and closed his eyes in meditation.
The next day Vance went out of doors and wandered about the streets.
The shops on either side were packed with people, and even the open ground had stall after stall on it, food and goods and clothing, the stallholders crying their wares at the top of their voices.
There were Trainers keeping stalls as well, with Poké Balls, Poké Balls and potions and the like laid out for sale.
With a good enough eye you might pick up a bargain at those stalls.
Vance looked them over at a glance and smiled faintly. They were all ordinary Pokémon Eggs, common as anything.
Caterpie, Weedle, Pidgey, for the most part.
The quality of the things was uneven besides, and still they were ringed with people.
Parents with children were haggling with the stallholders, wanting to buy the Eggs off the stalls.
The opening of the Conference did not draw Trainers alone; ordinary families came for the occasion too, to widen their children's experience.
Those with money in the family would buy something out of the Pokémon trade as well.
Vance made a circuit of it and spent something on a few small trifles, and as he came round a corner he ran into people he knew.