by Simon Haynes
"Perhaps. Or maybe he really does have rich relatives. Olivia Backsight runs an arms business, don't forget."
"Spoilt little oik." Hal watched the youths drive off in a blaze of light and a cacophony of booming music. Then he glanced at the old lady, who was still digging in her bag. "Excuse me."
The lady looked up. "Yes?"
Hal brandished one of the tickets tucked into his pocket by the youth. "Is this yours? I just found it on the floor."
"Oh, thank you!" The old lady beamed at him. "I've been looking forward to this exhibition for ages."
The old lady gave the ticket back and Hal waved her through.
"Where did you get that ticket?" asked Clunk, once she'd gone inside.
"Oh, one of those louts gave them to me."
"You said they didn't have any tickets!"
"No, I said I didn't think they did."
There was a clatter of footsteps behind them, and they turned to see Ryder approaching. "I heard there was a disturbance. Is everything all right?"
"Fine," said Hal, hurriedly kicking the broken commsets and melted chain links into the bushes.
"No problem," said Clunk.
Ryder ignored Clunk and gave Hal a warm smile. "If you see Olivia's grandson, be sure to treat him well. My artists can use all the help they can get."
"Grandson?"
"Short kid. Mouth like a sewer, and an attitude to match. Wears a lot of gold."
Clunk opened his mouth, but Hal got in first. "We'll keep an eye out for him."
"Thanks, Hal. He was supposed to be here for the opening, but you know what these teenagers are like." Ryder patted her pocket. "I'm sure he'll call me eventually."
"Yeah, I'm sure he will," said Hal, covering a broken piece of commset with the sole of his boot.
After that, there was a rash of arrivals, with more cars arriving every few seconds. Time flew in a flurry of greetings, ticket-checking and security pat-downs, and before long Hal wondered whether there was anyone left on the rest of the planet.
Arrivals finally slowed, and Hal realised it was at least three hours since his last coffee, which was something of a record. He turned to Clunk and wagged his finger in reproach. "You're letting me down, Clunk. I'm dying for a coffee, here."
"You didn't ask for beverages," said Clunk mildly.
"You don't need me to tell you. You should have known."
"Of course I should."
Hal frowned. "It's true! What we need around here is some proper discipline."
"Oh, I think you're about to get some of that."
"Eh?" Hal looked down the stairs and saw a car pulling up. The door opened, and he saw Harriet Walsh step out. She'd had her hair done, and was wearing a nice evening dress with new shoes. She looked amazing, and Hal was about to wave at her when he glanced at his watch and saw it was almost nine. Oh crap … he'd forgotten all about their dinner date!
Slam! Walsh closed the door with a hefty swing, and Hal gulped. "Clunk, be a pal. Tell her I came down with a headache."
"I cannot tell a lie, Mr Spacejock."
"No, I really have got a headache." Hal clutched his head. "It's splitting me apart. Honest!"
"Oh, very well. Keep out of sight while I relay your weak excuse."
Relieved, Hal darted inside the expo.
Hal ducked behind the drapes just inside the door, concealing himself from the guests. There was no way he could mingle, not in his special bounder outfit, but there was a narrow gap between the heavy curtains and the wall, and he used it to make his way around the outside of the exhibition hall. Halfway round he heard voices, and he peeped out to see Olivia Backsight standing with her back to him, talking to Meri about the exhibition.
"So that's settled, then? A private showing on Niaritz, then delivery to head office afterwards."
"Of course, ma'am. I'll inform the courier right away."
"Are you sure he's trustworthy?"
At that moment, Meri spotted Hal peering through the curtains. She faltered for a second or two, then continued. "Yes, he's very reliable."
"I'm glad to hear it. He can't be any worse than that awful person handling tonight's security."
A waiter arrived with a tray of hors d'oeuvres, and while the guy waited patiently alongside Olivia, waiting to attract her attention, Hal managed to score several pieces of prawn toast, a couple of sushi rolls and a chicken drumstick.
Next came another waiter with a tray of glasses. Hal reached through the curtains and swiped two flutes of bubbly, an orange juice and a rather cheeky red wine, draining each of them and depositing the empties back on the tray before the waiter noticed anything.
Hal moved on, pausing several times to part the curtains and filch drinks and nibblies. By the time he reached the far end of the hall he was feeling quite full, and a lot more jolly.
At that moment he heard footsteps, and he turned to see Ryder push through the curtains, advancing on him in the near-darkness with a determined look in her eye. "I—I only had a couple of glasses," explained Hal. "Don't worry, you can deduct the cost from our fees."
He broke off as Ryder put her arms around him, and before he knew what was happening they were locked in a passionate kiss. She pressed herself against him, her hands travelling up the back of his neck, her fingers running through his hair. At first Hal participated with gusto, overcome with the heat of the moment. Then he remembered Harriet, and he stepped back to escape the embrace.
Ryder was having none of it. She clung to him, following his every step, her lips still locked to his.
Hal felt the curtains brush over him as he backed into the exhibition hall, and he blinked in the sudden light. The hubbub of voices ceased, and Hal turned to see a semi-circle of guests gaping at him. Then he saw something which made his blood run cold. Not ten paces away stood Harriet Walsh, with a look of total shock on her face. She recovered quickly, and advanced on him with a dangerous glint in her eye. Hal untangled himself from Ryder's embrace and ducked behind the curtains, and as the crowd found its voice he ran full pelt for the exit.
* * *
Out front, Clunk was just debating whether to fetch Hal another coffee when he heard footsteps approaching from behind. They were coming straight for him, moving fast, and he turned to see Harriet Walsh three steps away, fists clenched and her face an angry mask. When she spotted Clunk, she stopped with her hands on her hips. "All right, where is he?"
"Who?"
"Your owner. Where did he go?"
"Ms Walsh, I do not have an owner."
"Don't try that robot logic on me." Walsh prodded Clunk in the chest. "Hal Spacejock. Where is he?"
"I cannot say."
"Fine. I'll find him myself." Walsh glanced around, then crouched and picked up a chunk of rock from the garden bed. Without looking at Clunk, she hurled it into the nearest bush. Then she picked up another, aimed at a different bush, and let fly.
"Ms Walsh, you might hurt someone."
"I doubt I'll hit anyone important," snapped Harriet, lobbing another chunk into the foliage. "One way or another, he's going to get that headache he told me about."
Clunk raised his voice as another lump of rock tore through the bushes. "You'd better come out, Mr Spacejock."
Unwillingly, sheepishly, Hal emerged from hiding. Walsh dropped her latest missile and dusted her hands on her dress, not looking at him.
"I'm sorry," muttered Hal, hanging his head. "I wanted to explain, but —"
Walsh took a step closer and then … CRACK! Without warning, she belted Hal across the face, putting all her strength into it. Caught off guard, Hal flew into the bushes, and he was still untangling himself when Harriet turned and strode down the stairs. She reached her car before Hal found his feet, and he could only stand in shock as she wrenched the door open and got in.
"Wait!" called Hal. "I can explain. It's not —"
Harriet slammed the door, gunned the motor and roared away.
"I think you should go after her," said
Clunk.
"You're mad. She's mad … and she's got a gun."
There was a clatter of footsteps, and Hal turned to see Ryder hurrying towards him. "Oh, you poor baby!" she cried, when she saw the bruise on Hal's face. "Let me take care of that for you."
"I'm fine," said Hal. "It's nothing."
"Don't be silly. Your cheek is all red." Very gently, Ryder ran her fingertips over Hal's face. "What you need is a woman's touch."
Clunk snorted. "It was a woman's touch that laid him out in the first place."
* * *
Harriet was absolutely livid as she drove away from the expo. She'd agreed to dinner with Hal, despite all the arguments against it. First, she was a Peace Force officer working a case, and for all she knew Hal Spacejock was up to his ears in this smuggling business. Second, she'd been determined to keep her distance from Hal, despite their history, and yet she'd accepted the dinner invite without a second thought.
That was bad enough, but to be lied to and stood up … that really took the cake. She'd spent a fortnight's salary on a new dress, and when she finally caught up with Hal he was snogging that Ryder specimen.
Walsh's hands worked the controls, her knuckles white under the strain. The problem was, she wanted Hal and the Peace Force, and she couldn't have them both. The Peace Force was her life now, and it was no good clinging to the past. And, if she was honest, it wasn't fair on Hal either.
From now on, she decided, their relationship would be strictly cop and suspect. As soon she got back to the Volante, that nameplate was coming off her old cabin door.
Chapter 20
"They're going to announce the sales results," said Clunk. "Do you want to watch?"
Hal shook his head. "I really don't care."
"Do you mind if I go?"
"Be my guest."
"Are you sure you'll be okay out here?"
"Of course. I'll just stand here and look mean." Hal watched the robot go, then sighed. What a mess! Meri was a nice girl, and one hell of a kisser, but he was determined to clear the air with Harriet before burning all his bridges. He'd never seen her so angry, and it wasn't just the missed dinner. If she still had feelings for him, he had to know. Even if she was committed to the Peace Force right now, he'd be happy to wait a couple of years if there was a chance they could be together one day. And if she wasn't … well, he could still feel Meri's lips on his, and …
Hal sighed again. Why was life so complicated? He stared at the empty car park, glanced around the deserted entrance, then changed his mind about staying outside on his own. He was unlikely to get any dinner now, and if he repeated his trick with the curtains and the trays of food he might not need any.
Inside, Ryder was just welcoming Olivia Backsight, the exhibition's patron, to the microphone. Hal filched a couple of satay sticks while a few words were said about the artworks, sank two red wines during the thank-yous, and snaffled a handful of cheese sticks while Olivia presented the sales figures. There was a polite round of applause after each figure was read out, and she reached the end without mentioning any of Max Bright's artworks. Hal took a perverse pleasure in this, but the grin vanished when he realised their customer probably intended to pay his freight bill from the proceeds of any sales.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to announce the biggest sale tonight. I know many of you are keen collectors, and we're truly lucky to have so many unique pieces to choose from."
Hal smiled as he polished off his drink. It was Olivia's money that brought all the pieces to the exhibition, not luck. And if this big sale was one of Bright's, the freight bill was as good as settled.
"I'm happy to report that one piece sold for a truly staggering amount." Olivia Backsight nodded to Ryder, who gestured to a helper, who beckoned towards an open doorway. Members of the crowd craned their necks, Clunk amongst them, and there was a gasp as one of the cargo sleds was pushed into the hall. A shimmering gold curtain had been draped over the contents, which from the shape of it looked like a big rectangular slab. Hal pulled a face at the sight. None of Bright's artworks were shaped like monoliths.
The sled came closer, gliding to a gentle halt next to the rostrum. Ryder gathered a corner of the golden curtain, and waited for the signal.
"This piece appeared in the exhibition under mysterious circumstances, smuggled in under the eyes of our security team." Olivia looked straight at Hal as she said this, and he almost choked on a cracker. "I myself believe it to be the work of my dear grandson, Rodney Backsight, who some of you know as a bit of a high-spirited youth."
Hal realised 'Rodney' was the little creep who'd threatened him with the electric blade. Judging from the wary looks members of the audience were exchanging, Hal wasn't the only one to have experienced Rodney's charm. And if Rodney was an artist, then he, Hal Spacejock, was a ballerina.
"Without further ado, I'd like to unveil the unnamed piece."
At a gesture from her boss, Ryder flicked the cover off the hidden artwork. Underneath was a large slab of concrete, and at first glance Hal thought someone had painted the outline of a man on the front. His arms were up, his face was a picture of shock, and his mouth was wide open in a soundless scream. Then he realised it was a clever sculpture, and the man wasn't painted on, he was actually chiselled out of the slab. The detail was incredible, and it looked like someone had spent months on the piece.
There was a round of applause, and even Hal joined in. Then, as the applause died out, Hal noticed Clunk looking at him. The robot was tilting his head repeatedly, as though there was a fault in his motor. His eyes kept flicking towards the door, and one of his shoulders rose and fell with every movement. Hal frowned. Was Clunk trying to bid in the auction? Didn't he realise it was already over?
Hal inspected the artwork again, and he realised there was something familiar about it. The look of surprise on the face, the clawed fingers on the hands, the bouncer outfit the model was wearing … Wait a minute. Bouncer outfit? Hal studied the face, and that's when it dawned on him. The piece wasn't a clever sculpture by Rodney Backsight, it was the slab of wet concrete Hal had fallen into earlier that afternoon! Someone had spotted the impression he'd made, assumed it was an innovative artwork, and cut the thing out of the ground. Not only that, they'd sold the damn thing!
"How much did it go for?" Hal asked a tall woman in a white dress.
"One does not discuss such matters," said the woman loftily.
"Two hundred and fifty grand," said her partner.
Hal whistled. Then he smiled. Then he danced a little jig. All he had to do was claim the artwork and the huge sum of money was his!
* * *
Formalities complete, the crowd began to drift away. Hal approached Meri Ryder, but before he could explain about the concrete artwork, she got in first.
"Hal! I have a bone to pick with you." Ryder adjusted the collar on his jacket. "I know Rodney can be a bit full-on, but you might have warned me he was delivering a piece of his own."
"He didn't. I —"
"Not that it really matters. This is the fourth year we've run this exhibition, and dear old Olivia pays top whack for his lousy efforts every time."
"What do you mean?"
"She bids on his rubbish every year. Why, only last year she claimed a nut and bolt was his best ever work, and gave him fifty thousand credits for it." Ryder gestured at the slab. "This year she's really excelled herself. I mean, just look at the ugly thing. Those beady eyes seem to follow you around the room, and that savage, haunted expression belongs in a Peace Force line-up."
Hal thought this was a bit rich, especially since the face in the 'sculpture' was actually his. Then he realised the implications. The piece had only sold because the patron though it was her grandson's, and if Hal tried to claim it, the sale would be cancelled. Instead of getting his hands on a big pile of cash, he'd probably get charged with vandalism.
"There is something strangely familiar about it," continued Ryder. "Something I can't quite put my
finger on."
"Here, have another glass of wine."
"Are you trying to get me drunk?"
"Or a cheese nibbly."
"No, I'm having dinner later." Meri glanced at him. "Did you hear about Bright's artworks?"
Hal shook his head.
"Olivia bought the lot. She wants them delivered to their weapons factory on Niaritz for a private exhibition, then shipped to head office where they'll be put on permanent display."
"Good riddance," said Hal.
"Oh, you haven't seen the last of Bright's artwork yet. I'm to hire you for both deliveries."
Hal groaned. "Not again."
"Cheer up. The pay's even better than last time." Meri hesitated. "So, are you going back to your hotel tonight?"
"I don't have a hotel. I'm staying aboard the Volante."
"Really? Would you like a lift?"
Hal hesitated. "I should really give Clunk a hand with the artworks."
"No point. We're locking the gallery in half an hour, and break-down doesn't start until seven tomorrow morning." Ryder smiled. "Go on, I'll give you a ride. It'll be my pleasure, believe me."
Hal remembered Harriet. Was she still driving around with steam coming out of her ears, or had she returned to the Volante to stew? Either way, he was unlikely to run into her sitting in Meri's car. "Okay, let me find Clunk."
"Oh. Does he have to come with us?"
"I can't leave him here."
"Why not? He can make an early start on the packing."
Hal thought for a moment. "That's not a bad idea, but I'll have to explain it right."
Ryder smiled at him. "I'm sure you'll manage."
Hal found the robot deep in conversation with an artist, quizzing her on every aspect of her work. The artist seemed relieved when Hal interrupted, and she made a quick excuse and hurried towards the exit.
"Ah, Mr Spacejock. I've been learning about chisel-point techniques. Did you know that —"
"Later, Clunk. I've got some news on the cargo." Hal explained about the delivery jobs, and he was surprised to see a look of relief cross the robot's face. "What is it?"
"I'm sorry?"
"You look like a weight just lifted off your shoulders."
