On the other hand, she was learning nothing here, and there was a lot to be said for being far from Ganymede for the next few days. On far-off Lysithea she would be safe from pursuers and would-be government questioners alike.
Lola hesitated for a few seconds before she took the next step. Two questions still had to be answered: Was Joss Cayuga on Lysithea? And if he were, would he allow her to fly out there and review his uncle's records?
She could see no point in waiting. Lola again chose a message mode that would not reveal her location and asked for a connection with Joss Cayuga—wherever he might be.
* * *
Spook and Bryce Sonnenberg had awakened at about the same time, while the other two in the Bat Cave were still asleep. Bat was a great, snoring mound of black sheets on a bed three times normal size, and Lola was curled up in her chair. Spook threw a cover over his sister, then by unspoken consent he and Bryce tiptoed around until the autochef produced their selections.
Bryce picked up a filled mug and a covered dish and raised his eyebrows at Spook. "Outside?" he whispered. "We can talk better there without disturbing them."
Spook nodded. He went out of the Bat Cave with his own loaded tray and led Bryce along the corridor. The nearest place to sit down was on the next level up. The scenery there wasn't the greatest, rows and rows of giant fungi covered with grey warts, but if Bryce didn't mind looking at them, Spook could certainly stand it—so long as he wasn't asked to eat them, or wasn't told that he had been eating them already.
They sat side by side in silence for a few minutes. Spook was desperately keen to talk to Bryce, but he didn't know how to start. A few days ago Spook thought he understood him, one of Lola's patients not all that much older than himself and troubled by horrible nightmares. Now Sonnenberg had become a tough, wary man, who according to his own confusing words was either twenty-five or fifty years older than he looked.
Spook wasn't frightened by that. In some strange way the new Sonnenberg made Spook feel more secure. But casual chatting was not easy.
"You were really there?" he said at last. "You spent all those years on Earth."
"I think I was. Odd as it sounds."
"And you remember it all?"
"Better than what happened afterwards." Bryce grimaced and tapped his forehead. "I'm getting things back, bits and pieces, but there are holes. I'm still fishing hard for a particular one."
"But all those Earth memories, about you being in a gambling place—those are true?"
That produced a glance at Spook and a raised eyebrow. "You are referring to what are supposed to be secret haldane files. You've been into them? Don't bother to answer that, because it doesn't matter. Yes, I was the boss of the biggest casino on the North American continent for more than twenty years."
"It sounds great. Really exciting."
"No. Sometimes scary, more often boring." But Bryce's tone didn't match his words.
"I wish I could go to Earth."
"Nothing to stop you, in a few more years." Bryce didn't mind the way that the conversation was going. He wanted Spook relaxed and rational, and you couldn't be either if you were thinking every minute that someone was coming along to kill you. "You mean go to Earth as a visitor?"
"I want to go back to where we used to live. I want to make sure that my parents are really dead."
"I hope my adopted ones are. I guess yours didn't find neat uses for belts and basements. Were they living in the Northern Hemisphere?"
"Yes."
Sonnenberg shrugged. "Then you know the odds as well as I do. Seven and a half billion people north of the equator before the war; eighteen thousand after it—and all those in deep shelters. I don't think you ought to go to Earth for more than a short visit."
"I can take it, no matter how bad the damage is."
"I'm not thinking of that. Earth may be only half alive, but the Southern Hemisphere is booming. No, I think you'd be bored more than horrified. Earth isn't where the action is any more. My advice to you is to head farther out in the system and live fast and hard while you're young. When you get older you want things, but not as urgently."
"You mean like you with Lola?"
"That still bugging you? I wasn't thinking of that, but it's not a bad example. I said she was attractive, and she is. When I was young—really young, I mean, and not an old brain sitting in a young body—there'd have been no stopping me."
"Do you find her less attractive now?"
"No. It's just that things get more complicated as you grow older. You can see reasons for doing things, and not doing things, that just don't occur to you when you're young. I tell myself that 'older' means 'smarter.' I try to look before I leap."
"You don't seem to think much of young people."
"Not at all. I think it's just self-preservation on my part. If old people went at things the way young people do, they'd drop dead the first day. Not a bad way to go, mind you, if you're doing certain things."
Bryce had moved the conversation almost to where he wanted it. "If you get in a really difficult situation," he went on, "I believe that the best possible combination is two people, one old and one young. The young one says, 'Hey, this is new and neat and it ought to work.' The old one says, 'Well, yes, it might work—but here's three ways it could kill you.' "
"I don't see how you and Lola could get into a much worse fix than you are in now."
"Could be." Bryce did not voice his immediate thought: Not just me and Lola. You and Bat, too, if I'm any judge.
"But if you're right," Spook said, "then the two of us ought to be able to figure out what's happening."
"I don't believe this is a figure-it-out situation. It's not like one of your Puzzle Network problems, where it seems as though you don't have enough information but you know that you really do, because whoever set the puzzle designed it that way. Here, you have to decide what's missing. Then you probably have to go and get it—and I don't mean from the data banks. If they had enough for an answer, Bat would have found it."
"Give him time. When I left him last night he was still digging."
"Which is good. But there are other ways to operate when you have to tackle the real world."
"Like what?"
"You are the one who is supposed to tell me that. I'm the old man who says why it can't work, why we might get blown away trying. I also saw too many things firsthand, like the shadow of Alicia Rios burned into her own chair, or Jinx Barker smothered where he lay. You might think that would help, but it doesn't."
"Like me when I fight with Lola. I can't be objective,and that really gets to me."
"But you can be objective about this. You're rested and fed; it ought to be prime thinking time for you. Review everything unusual that you've seen and heard for the past couple of months, and tell me what we've missed. How do we find a way to whoever killed Jinx Barker and Alicia Rios?"
Bryce was not being completely open with Spook. Nor was he lying to him. He had an idea, and he wanted to see if Spook came to the same conclusion.
Spook was frowning. "Including you, and your own arrival on Ganymede, among the unusual things?"
"Definitely. Do not exclude anything."
"All right. Everything was quiet until you arrived. Jinx Barker showed up after you started haldane treatment, and he wanted to kill you and Lola. It seems to me that everything started with you, even though you say it didn't."
"I didn't quite say that. I said if it did start with me, I don't know how or why."
"But it can't be just you, because you lived for years on Callisto, with no one trying to kill you."
"Right. Except maybe myself—space-scooter racing can be pretty close to suicide."
"Doesn't count." Spook sat staring off into space, the grey fields in front of him ignored. "Before you arrived, no one was trying to kill you, and no one was trying to kill Lola. So the trigger must have been your treatment. Something that you remembered, or imagined you remembered, led to the arrival of Jinx Barker.
Do you have any idea what it might have been?"
"Not a clue. Those haldane sessions with Lola are like having somebody unzip your brain bit by bit until one day the contents spill out all over the floor. I'm not sure I even know what I'll remember from one hour to the next."
"But everything will be in Lola's files." Spook gave Bryce Sonnenberg a guilty sideways glance. "I got into them, other people might have done the same. One thing to keep in mind, Barker was around for quite a while before he became interested in murder. How about this?: He fished around until he had what he wanted. He reported that. And then he was told to get rid of you two so nobody else could learn what he knew."
"Good. But it's time for me to put on my old man's hat. He might have found out something important. Or he might have learned that there was nothing important to find out."
"But then why kill you? There is no reason for that."
"Think paranoid, Spook."
"All right. Paranoia. Barker was sent to investigate you because whoever hired him had a big secret of their own that they wanted to protect. Something that you and Lola had done or found made them afraid that you knew it. Once they were sure you didn't have it, they killed you to make sure you would never be able to find out you had been investigated, or tell anyone else about Jinx Barker."
"And Barker and Alicia Rios?"
"Same reason. To blot out the trail completely."
"Or because they didn't trust Barker and Rios, any more than they trusted me and Lola. So here's the real question: Did they succeed in destroying the trail?"
Spook had been turning that over in his mind since the moment when Bryce had asked him what they might have missed. He shook his head. "Not quite. I see one place we haven't looked. Barker said that Jeffrey Cayuga was one of the people who ordered him to kill you. Jeffrey Cayuga is dead now, as well as Jinx Barker and Alicia Rios. But we know nothing about when Cayuga died or how he died—though I don't see how Jinx Barker could possibly have killed him. So. How did Jeffrey Cayuga die? Was he killed, too?"
Bryce stood up. "Good questions. We have to find answers."
"How?"
"Carefully. Whoever is behind all this is totally ruthless. You've arrived at the same place in your thinking as I did, but before we head back to the Bat Cave I want to mention one other oddity. Have you noticed a phrase that seems to pop up over and over, too often to be dismissed?"
"Murder?"
"That's certainly true, but it's not what I had in mind." Seeing his eyes, it was easy to believe that the new Bryce Sonnenberg was more than half a century old. "Jeffrey Cayuga," he went on. "And the Weland ship, where the obituary says Cayuga died. And Alicia Rios, and the First Family party. They're all connected. And the single thing that ties them all together is the Saturn expeditions."
22
Within twelve hours it was obvious that something had gone wrong. Joss Cayuga had waited, first in Lola's office and then in her apartment. She did not appear. Either she had been and gone in his absence, leaving Jinx Barker's body as she had found it, or somehow she had sensed that it was not safe to come back.
How long could he afford to wait? Cayuga retreated along the corridor to the relative safety of Jinx Barker's rented office and considered risks. Alicia Rios was suitably disposed of, along with her records. According to Lenny Costas, she had not been looking in his direction when he had taken out his weapon and fired, and in her last millisecond she probably never even knew the manner of her death.
Jinx Barker was gone, too. He seemed to have left no office records. In this at least he had been as Alicia Rios had described him, a professional. On the other hand, his body was still lying in Lola Belman's office. If she had been back and seen him, it was surprising that she had not already reported his death. In any case, Cayuga could not rely on that situation continuing—some other haldane patient was likely to arrive and notify Security, and as soon as they examined the body, they would be all over the corridor—including the office where Cayuga was hiding.
The conclusion was obvious: It would have been nice to dispose of Lola Belman and Bryce Sonnenberg, but they represented second-level risks compared with the other two. Alicia Rios had been a core member of the Ganymede Club, and given her excessive trust in Jinx Barker he had surely been developing suspicions. Belman and Sonnenberg might have suspicions, too. Cayuga did not know how much they actually knew. The real issue, of course, was what they might be able to prove.
After a sleepless and vigilant night, by midmorning he could not wait any longer. The very air and gravity of Ganymede made him nervous and itchy. He longed to be back in Lysithea's safe habitat.
He checked that there was no sign of his presence in Barker's office, closed the door behind him, and walked rapidly away.
And only just in time. As he was standing before the dropchute, flashing lights and sirens along the corridor warned of the arrival of Ganymede Security. He stepped forward into free fall, not taking the time to signal his destination level.
On the way down he made his plans. A couple of kilometers of descent ought to be more than enough. Then he would proceed horizontally at that level for thirty kilometers, head up to the surface port, and use the Weland to carry him home safe to Lysithea. He was just ending his downward motion when his portable link unit called for attention. Someone was sending a "request-to-talk" signal to his personal ID. It had been routed all the way out to Lysithea, then back to Ganymede.
He checked the caller's ID and had his biggest shock so far. It made sense that Lenny Costas might want to talk to him, or Polk or Dahlquist or one of the other Club members.
But—Lola Belman? Talking with her might be some kind of trap. On the other hand, he dare not refuse to talk to her. He absolutely had to know what she wanted. For one thing, she was using an anonymous location for her call. That suggested she knew enough to be suspicious and careful.
He made his way to a transit node's communications center, entered a private booth, and placed his return call with a signal delay to simulate a Lysithean link. After a second's hesitation he also coded for visual connect. He had to take a look at her, even if the price were that she would also see him.
While the connection was being established, he realized that the visual link might have an advantage. Joss Cayuga had the face of a nineteen-year-old. Most people equated youth with innocence.
The image that appeared in the booth's display volume was familiar to him. He had seen her a score of times, awake and asleep, clothed and naked, in the progress reports that Jinx Barker had submitted to Alicia Rios. He must not reveal that fact to her. He waited, deliberately looking slightly puzzled, while she spoke in the long message segments that people tended to adopt whenever signal delays were significant.
"Hello. We have never met, but my name is Lola Belman. I am a haldane." (And I'd better not forget that, now or later, Cayuga said to himself.) "I have a practice on Ganymede. Certain questions have arisen in connection with one of my patients. As I am sure you will appreciate, I am not at liberty to divulge the patient's identity, or the nature of the problem we are exploring." (Neat. Cut off questions from me before I have a chance to ask them.) "However, I can say this much. There is a possibility that some of the records kept by your late uncle, Jeffrey Cayuga, might be helpful. I am seeking your consent to examine those records. Obviously, I would not ask to see anything that you might judge personal."
Lola paused. Cayuga allowed himself time to think before he answered. He could arrange to meet with her on Ganymede, but where? He felt less and less safe here. By this time, Security would be looking for Lola Belman in connection with Jinx Barker's death. There must be a better way.
He put on a worried but eager-to-please expression. "Naturally, I'd like to help you if I can, but my uncle's death came as a total shock to everyone." (Don't overdo it—suppose she starts to ask what he died of.) "I have not yet had the time to go through my uncle's records. I have no idea what is in them. However, I believe that they are ext
ensive, and I do know that they are maintained at his home on Lysithea. It is not feasible to transport them to Ganymede. If you would be willing to make the trip to Lysithea, maybe we could go through the records together? I would screen them for personal materials, then provide the rest to you."
She was nodding even before his message reached its end. "When can we do it?"
The promptness of her reply suggested to Cayuga that his guess about Security looking for her was right. She saw Lysithea as safe, Ganymede as dangerous. So push her a little.
"It either has to be soon, or wait for a couple of months. My home used to be in the Belt, but with my uncle's death I propose to live where he did, in the habitat on Lysithea. I have to go back to the Belt for a few weeks, though, to sort things out there."
She was nodding again. If she felt a scrap of hesitation about her decision, it did not show on her face. "I will come to Lysithea. Immediately. Just as soon as I can find a ship to take me."
"I think I can help you with that. There might be a ship available. It's—" Cayuga started to give the name, then rejected his first idea. It should not be the Weland, the ship he would be using himself. Also, he must not think of disposing of Lola Belman too close to Ganymede. Better use a ship that needed no crew, was expendable, and would surprise no one if it had an unfortunate accident.
"Jeffrey Cayuga owned the Dimbula," he went on. "An old ship, prewar, used originally for Belt exploration. But perfectly serviceable." (And, like the Weland, it can be controlled remotely from the Lysithean center. But you don't need to know that.) "If that sounds all right with you, I'll tell you just where you can find the Dimbula. And I'll look forward to meeting you on Lysithea."
As his message was passed on to Lola, Cayuga pondered the strangeness of fate. You could set a professional assassin to work. When that failed, you could undertake to do the job yourself. You took unacceptable risks, and got nowhere. And then, just when you stopped chasing, just when you had given up and were heading off for home and relative safety, your quarry might drop out of hiding—and land right in your undeserving lap.
The Ganymede Club Page 26
