“You’re not going to learn much,” announced Shea. “You’ll be lucky if the wind doesn’t blow you over. And the visibility is wretched.”
I was surprised he didn’t tell me I’d get warts, too.
“I just need a brief look at it,” I said. “I can question you while we’re walking there and back and get it over with.”
“I hope you have a lot of questions saved up,” he said. “It could take me hours to locate the formation.”
“I thought it was just a quarter-mile away.”
“It is—but visibility’s about five or six meters, tops. And I’ve only been there once.”
“Max,” I said, “find a robot that can lead us to the spot.”
“Yes, Jake,” he said, scurrying off.
“So who do you think did it?” I asked Shea.
He shrugged. “Beats me. Doesn’t make much sense, does it? I mean, if I wanted to be chairman, I’d kill the current one, not the former one.”
“I agree,” I said. “So who had a grudge against Kdin?”
“Everybody except Ktamborit, I imagine,” he said. “We were all passed over for the job.”
“You never seriously expected to get it, did you?”
“No, not really. And while I hate to say anything to remove suspicion from a Thrale, Toblinda didn’t expect it any more than I did.”
“So why are you working for an organization where you can’t rise to the top?”
“I’m the Cartel’s top executive in the Democracy,” said Shea, not without a touch of pride. “I have more power, more people under my command, than almost any governor, admiral or general. I couldn’t spend my annual salary in a couple of lifetimes, and in fact I have so many perks that I don’t spend much of it at all.”
“Okay,” I agreed with a smile. “Those are pretty good reasons.”
“I have fourteen million good reasons a year, plus stock options,” he said, returning my smile.
“So you think it was one of the Gaborians?”
“It seems likely. Except…”
“Except?”
“Except that I can’t see what could be gained from it,” he said, frowning. “Maybe we’re all bitter that Kdin chose Ktamborit rather than one of us, but killing him doesn’t change anything.”
“Maybe it makes the killer feel better.”
“On the one hand is the ability—maybe—to feel better for awhile,” he said. “On the other is losing everything you’ve got if you’re caught. It’s a piss-poor business proposition, and we’re all businessmen.”
Max returned with a gleaming silver robot that was shaped exactly like a Gaborian. We finished getting into our gear. Then I walked out of the building and to a hatch about fifteen meters away, and stepped into the airlock, followed by Shea, Max and the robot. Once the hatch was secure, the outer door opened and we stepped out into the swirling chlorine fog.
“Lead the way,” I said to the robot.
A glowing light indicated that he’d received my transmission, and he began walking very slowly to the northwest, calling out the hazards—large rock, small depression, slippery rocks, sharp incline, whatever—and it took us about eight minutes to cover the quarter mile. I was surprised that none of us tore our suits on the razor-sharp rock formations we had to pass.
“Why the hell would someone build a retreat here?“ I mused.
“No visitors,” said Shea.
“I suppose so,” I agreed. “If there’s a second reasonable answer, I can’t come up with it.” Then: “Max, you’re from this system. Has Graydawn got any natural resources worth anything on the open market?”
“No, Jake.”
“Any native life forms?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so. It’s a pretty inhospitable place.” I looked around. “Robot, where did Kdin fall?”
“I was not here, sir,” answered the robot. “You asked me to take you to the spot where he often viewed his favorite rock formation. This is that spot.”
I looked around. “I don’t see any rock formation.”
“It’s there, all right,” said Shea. “Wait until the wind stops blowing all this chlorine around.”
And sure enough, no sooner had he spoken the words than the atmosphere stopped swirling and I could see a strange structure about ten yards ahead of me: a thin rock, maybe five inches around, extending straight up about fifty feet, with a huge circular slab of stone, maybe eight feet in diameter, balanced precariously atop it.
“Why doesn’t the wind blow it over?” I asked.
“Beats me,” said Shea. “From what Kdin told us, it’s been like that ever since he built the place.”
“Maybe the needle-like structure is piercing the circular one so it can’t blow off,” suggested Max.
“I suppose that’s as good an answer as any,” I said. “So you seven were looking at this thing, and Kdin fell over dead?”
“He clutched at his facemask first,” said Shea. “Clawed at it like he was in a panic.”
“Did he say anything?”
“Not that I recall.”
“And you picked him up immediately and carried him back?”
“No,” said Shea. “Two of the Gaborians knelt down next to him to see what had happened. There was a powerful wind, and it was possible he’d just been blown over. Then they announced that they couldn’t see any signs of life, so the Thrale took one end, I took the other, and we carried him back to the dome.”
I looked around. Visibility had increased only a little since we’d come out onto the surface. “How did you find the dome?” I asked. “I couldn’t.”
“Ktamborit and Ktee had been here a number of times before. They knew the way, or we might all still be out here.”
“When you got him back, what then?”
“We called Bdale as soon as we reached the dome. He showed up a minute later and tried to revive Kdin, but he was past it.” He paused. “Just as well. There hadn’t been any oxygen to the brain for ten, maybe eleven minutes. If Gaborians are anything like us, he’d have been a vegetable anyway.”
“Then what?”
“We put his body in a refrigerator bag to keep it fresh, and loaded him and his suit in the shuttle, which we sent to Bramanos.”
“And then?” I said.
He looked confused. “That’s it.”
“Did any of the executives want to leave?”
“We all did,” said Shea. “But Ktamborit ordered us all to stay here until the authorities confirmed that it was death from natural causes.”
I thought about his answers on the way back to the dome. Once we’d entered it I told him that I was through questioning him for the time being and sent him back to the retreat.
“Aren’t we going inside, Jake?” asked Max.
“In a minute,” I said, fascinated as the grass kept ducking away from my feet. “We want to think first.”
“What are we thinking about?”
“We’re not sure,” I said. “But something is bothering us.”
“What?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Everything Ktamborit and Shea said makes sense, but there’s something wrong, something I can’t quite put my finger on.”
Five minutes later I still hadn’t spotted it, so I finally gave up teasing the grass and walked back into the retreat with Max.
The next one I questioned was Kchang. He seemed genuinely distressed over Kdin’s death, and didn’t like Ktamborit at all…but in the next breath he admitted that she was the proper choice for the job, that her skills and intellect dwarfed everyone else’s.
Ktee struck me as a good company man—or a good company Gaborian, as the case may be. He’d been with the cartel for 34 Standard years, never made waves, and seemed animated only when describing the business and his role it in. Was he pissed off at being passed over? Not at all. He loved what he was doing, and as chairman he’d be doing too many things he didn’t like as well. Or so he said.
Kmorn w
as the third of the Gaborian vice presidents. He seemed the dullest, but he had an advantage the other two lacked: he was family. He tried to explain Gaborian bloodlines to me; the closest I could figure was that he was the equivalent of Kdin’s cousin. He was more upset over Kdin’s death than the others, but then, if he was as slow as I suspected, he’d just lost his protector, and his days of power and luxury might be numbered. Of them all, he had the least reason to want to see Kdin dead.
I figured that as long as I was questioning Gaborians I might as well work my way through them. Besides, I had an innate dislike of Thrales after what they did to a few outlying worlds I used to visit, so I decided to put off talking to Toblinda a little longer and sent for Bdale, the doctor.
Max ushered him into the room a few minutes later. He walked up to me, made some kind of obesience that looked for all the world like a curtsy—it was a gesture none of the high-powered executives had felt obligated to make—and then waited patiently for me to start questioning him.
“I won’t be long,” I assured him. “How long were you Kdin’s physician?”
“Just over ten Standard years,” said Bdale.
“How was his health?”
“Not good. He suffered many of the problems of aging, exacerbated by the enormous pressure he worked under. His heart especially was not in good condition. That is why he decided to step down and turn the company over to Ktamborit.”
“Did you feel any apprehension when he left the dome?”
“No, he did it almost every day, usually alone, though occasionally I or a visiting executive would accompany him. Exploring the area was physically taxing, but paradoxically it seemed to relax him. He had taken me to the structure a few times, so I knew he wasn’t going far afield, and of course he was in the company of friends.”
“Did you recommend that he take a robot along?”
Bdale smiled a Gaborian smile. “Kdin was the one who programmed the robots, Mr. Masters. He could find his way around the area as quickly and easily as they did.”
“I assume his failing health was not a closely-kept secret?”
“No, he had given it as his reason for retiring.”
“Since all the executives knew he was in poor health, did any of them suggest that a robot go along?”
“No,” he said. “I don’t suppose it occurred to any of them.”
“What did you think when they brought his body back?”
“That he had finally overtaxed his heart,” answered Bdale. “I gave him a perfunctory examination and pronounced him dead.”
“Why was the body shipped to Bramanos as opposed to being buried or disposed of either here or on Kdin’s home world?” I asked.
“When someone who wields that much power dies, even from what appear to be natural causes, it is essential to have an autopsy, just to ease everyone’s mind,” answered Bdale. “I don’t have all the necessary equipment to perform one here, so his body was sent to Bramanos, with the stipulation that the autopsy be performed by a member of the Gaborian race, who would be conversant with his physiology.”
“You had no reason to suspect foul play?” I persisted.
“None. As I said, the autopsy was routine.”
“What was your initial diagnosis?”
“Heart failure. There were no discernable signs, and in such instances heart failure is usually the case.”
“What are the signs of asphyxiation in a Gaborian?” I asked.
“They are all internal,” replied Bdale. “If chlorine had somehow entered his protective suit, I would have spotted the signs instantly. But with simple asphyxiation, the Gaborian lungs collapse and the pulmonary artery often ruptures—but it takes an autopsy to discover that.”
“What was your reaction when the results of the autopsy came back from Bramanos?”
“I was shocked,” said Bdale.
“One last question,” I said. “Did anyone suggest that the body not be shipped to Bramanos for a post mortem?”
“No.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll want to speak to you again later.”
“I am at your disposal,” he said, curtsying again and leaving the room.
I decided to take a break when I finished with Bdale. I wasn’t tired; I just wasn’t looking forward to even talking to a Thrale. And something was nagging at me; it was nothing I could put my finger on, but in this job you learn to trust your instincts, and my instincts told me I’d already heard some things that didn’t add up.
Max was pretty sensitive to my mood. I could tell he wanted to talk, to discuss the various statements we’d heard, but he kept quiet and waited for me to work things out. It looked like it was going to be a long wait; the more I tried, the more things kept slipping away from me.
Finally I pulled a smokeless cigarette out of a pocket and lit it up.
“Well, what do you think, Max?” I said.
“Me?” he asked, surprised.
“You heard everything I heard.”
“Everything seemed logical. I know it’s early in your investigation, but I would say we could probably eliminate Kmorn from consideration.”
“Kmorn,” I repeated. “That’s the cousin?”
“Yes.”
“Every company’s got a cousin or a brother or a nephew,” I said. “Most of them have a lot in common with Kmorn.”
“They do?”
I nodded. “Most of them would still be in the shipping department if they weren’t related to someone who could get them out of there.” I paused. “Yeah, if I were making book, he’s the longshot.”
“What about the physician?” asked Max.
“Bdale?” I said. “If he was going to kill his boss, he’d have enough brains to make sure it couldn’t be spotted too easily in an autopsy. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to find out if he’s mentioned in Kdin’s will, always assuming Gaborians have wills—and if so, did he know about it? Also, will he become Ktamborit’s physician now, and if so, is that part of the job description?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Was he Kdin’s personal physician, or the chairman’s official physician?”
“Ah,” said Max. “I see. If he was hired by the cartel rather than Kdin, then he will probably retain his position with Ktamborit. And if he had a falling-out with Kdin, or if Kdin threatened to fire him for some reason, he had everything to gain by eliminating Kdin.”
“Good for you, Max,” I said. “Right on every count. Can I depend on you to find exactly who hired Bdale and what his duties were or are?”
“I shall do so before the day is over,” Max promised. He paused uncomfortably. “I have a question, Jake.”
“What is it?”
“You seemed lost in thought for a few minutes, and your expression was troubled. If you will confide in me, perhaps I can be of some help.”
“I can’t put my finger on it,” I said.
“If you will give me some of the details…”
“I don’t know them,” I said. “I know it sounds like I’m ducking your question or hiding things from you, but I’m not.” I tried to think of an example. “Did you ever go to the zoo world of Serengeti, over in the Albion Cluster?”
“No, though I’ve heard of it.”
“It’s a planet-wide game park,” I said. “You drive through it and view animals from maybe two hundred worlds in their natural habitats. The first thing you learn is that animals are pretty good at concealment. You could be twenty yards away from a three-ton herbivore that’s standing in the bush. His outline is broken up by trees and shrubs, and he’s the same color as his surroundings, and you stare for two minutes, then three, and you’d swear there’s nothing there. Then he flicks an ear or a tail, and suddenly you can see the whole beast, just because of that.”
“So you know something’s there, something wrong, and you’re just waiting for the equivalent of an ear flick to bring it into focus,” said Max.
“Exactly,” I said.
“I heard t
he same things as you did, and I can’t find anything wrong with them.”
“That’s because you’re new to the game,” I said. “If it was anything obvious, I’d have spotted it right away.” I finished the cigarette, toyed with lighting another, and decided not to. “We’ll just keep plugging away until something clicks. I’m going to question the Thrale now. The odds are he didn’t do it for the same reason that Malcolm Shea doesn’t figure to have done it. You can sit in on the interview if you want, but you’d be a lot more useful hunting up a computer or whatever else you need and finding out about Bdale.”
“I’ll send Toblinda up to you, and get busy learning what I can about the doctor,” he said, walking to the door.
“Thanks,” I said. “And Max?”
“Yes.”
“Find out when they eat in this place. I haven’t had anything since a couple of hours before we left Odysseus.”
“I will do that too, Jake,” he said, and walked to the airlift.
Even before I spoke to him, I was pretty sure Toblinda wasn’t the killer. He was in the same position as Shea; no matter who lived or died, he was as high up the corporate ladder as he was going to get. Not only did Kdin seem to have a predilection for his own kind, but for a cartel that traded with the Democracy and the Coalition it made sense not to offend a sizeable portion of his market by elevating an enemy of one side or the other to the top position.
Toblinda showed up about ten minutes later. I’m sure Max approached him before he did anything else, and I’m sure the Thrale could have made it seven or eight minutes earlier, but our races were mortal enemies—we’d been friends a century ago and we’d be friends a century in the future—and he wasn’t about to make my job any easier or any more pleasant.
He took one look at the room, stepped out into the corridor, and ordered a robot to bring him a chair. It didn’t respond until I okayed the command. It was only then that I realized that no one else had thought of it. These were the top executives in one of the most powerful cartels in the galaxy. They should have been used to snapping their fingers and having flunkies fight for the privilege of catering to their needs and even their whims.
Masters of the Galaxy Page 10
