She studied the other two men briefly. The small Chinese man had to be Chang Ho, who had been given work as a chemical laboratory assistant here. The blond man was Alexei Osipov; apparently stern words from the others on his greenhouse team about his bad temper had produced little result.
Everything in her recoiled from these men. Her hands trembled a little; she kept them under the table, where the three could not see them.
“We're going to ask you some questions,” Risa said. “This meeting will be recorded, so think carefully about how you reply. As you know, we don't have any of the devices Earth's police sometimes use in questioning, but don't assume you can deceive us. Our recording can be analyzed later if necessary, and vocal stresses and facial expressions can reveal a few things.”
“We've said what we have to say,” Ciceron replied. “We were invited to the woman's house. We'd been there before—she met me a couple of weeks ago and started telling me about this group she's in—Ishtar.”
“Seems rather late for a visit,” Risa said.
“She'd been working later shifts in refining. I told her she could just stop by our tent before going home, but she said it'd be better if we came by. That's all that happened. Everyone else was asleep when we got there, and we talked, and then we left. I don't know what happened after that.”
Chang Ho lifted his head; his eyes shifted uneasily before he looked down once more. The three did not yet know what had been found inside their tent; Istu had mentioned that to the Council during their review. He had also said something else—that an analysis of perspiration stains on the blood-stained shirt showed that it had been worn by the tall man.
“Your answer puzzles me a little,” Risa said quietly. “You see, your belongings were searched after you were brought here. A couple of bracelets were found, ones that belonged to the dead woman. I'd like to know how they got there.”
Chang Ho stiffened; Alexei Osipov, she noticed, seemed a bit paler. Ciceron's lip curled. “She gave them to me,” he replied. “She knew it'd be a while before I earned enough credit to buy anything like that, and said she didn't need them. That group she's in always talks about how everything's going to be shared someday.”
Alain al-Kadar cleared his throat; Risa motioned to him to be silent. The other Councilors were still; they were in the habit of allowing Risa and Alain to ask most of the questions during hearings. She had learned how to seize on contradictions, assess someone's veracity, and ferret out the truth.
“You say the bracelets were a gift. We can verify that statement with her household.”
Ciceron shifted on his feet. “They might not know. She probably didn't tell them everything she did.”
“Do you have anything to add to the statement you've made?”
The tall man shook his head. “We went there and we left.”
“We'll have to have a hearing. Things won't go well for you if you're lying now. You'd better consider that. We don't have to be as harsh with those who admit they've done wrong and are sorry for it.”
His dark eyes were contemptuous; she had to struggle not to look away. She could guess at what he was thinking; this Council could do nothing to him if there was room for doubt, especially about such a serious offense. He did not yet know that their other evidence had erased those doubts. Very well, she thought, I know what kind of man he is. Even if his deed had been impulsive and not planned, he was showing no sorrow over it.
“You're only accusing us,” Ciceron said, “because you don't want to deal with her household. You don't want to admit that one of them could have done it. It's easier to accuse somebody who doesn't have as many friends. Go ahead and have your hearing—there will be some who'll speak for us.”
“Since that's all you have to say, you can leave.” Risa gestured at one of the men near the door. “Take him to the room where you were holding him. I'll let you know what to do with him after we've spoken to his friends.”
Ciceron's eyes narrowed as he turned toward the door; the guard grabbed him by the arm as they left. Jeannine's broad face wore a look of puzzlement; she was obviously wondering why Risa had not confronted the man with the rest of their evidence.
“You two haven't said anything yet,” Risa said. “Was Ciceron telling the truth?”
“You heard him,” Alexei said; his green eyes stared past her. “We went there and we talked, and then we went back to our tent.”
“You're sure of that.”
“I'm sure.”
“You're not showing a lot of grief over the death of someone who tried to befriend you.”
Alexei's mouth tightened. “I'm sorry about that, but it's nothing to do with me.”
“And you?” Risa turned to Chang Ho. “I'd better say this again. Things will be easier for you at any hearing if you tell the truth now.”
“You heard it,” Chang Ho mumbled. “They said it.”
She had given the men their chance. Had they admitted the deed and shown some repentance, she could have believed they might be reformed. “I'm sorry to hear you say that,” she said softly, “Because we already know it's a He. A carving belonging to Nora Toland was found in a hole dug under your tent, along with a blood-stained shirt. The blood on both has been analyzed—it was Nora's.”
Chang Ho's head shot up; his face was constricted with fear. “It wasn't our doing,” he shouted. “Ciceron—he's the one who killed her. We didn't do anything. He struck her before we could stop him.”
“Be quiet,” Alexei said.
“You can't blame us for this. Ciceron did it—we didn't expect anything like that to happen.”
Risa sighed. “I think you'd better tell us the whole story.”
“She asked us to come to her house,” the Chinese man replied. “That's the truth—we thought it'd be more talk about Ishtar. Then she told us that she knew we'd stolen a couple of her things when we'd been there before.” His voice caught.
“And had you?” Risa asked.
“Just bracelets. It wasn't hard—just slipping into her room on the way to the bathroom and taking them. We didn't think she'd miss them. You have to understand—in the camps, the way it is, you sometimes need something for a bribe. We thought it might be the same here, and besides—”
“She always talked about how everything would be shared,” Alexei muttered.
“She said if we gave them back, she wouldn't say anything about it—that's why she wanted to talk to us alone. I was ready to say we should give them back then, but Ciceron told her we wouldn't and that she'd better not say anything about it either. She said she was trying to help us, let us make up for it, and then Ciceron started saying that she was just like everyone else—she'd talk about people sharing things, but she'd rather keep more for herself. She got up all of a sudden and said she was going to make a complaint right then, even if she had to wake up the whole Council to do it. He hit her before she got to the screen.”
The sordid story had the sound of truth. Risa glanced at the other Councilors; their eyes were hard.
“You have to understand,” Chang Ho went on. “He just wanted to keep her away from the screen, maybe scare her into leaving us alone and not talking. He didn't mean to hit her so hard. I don't know how long we stood there, and then we were outside the house, and when we got back to our tent, Ciceron said we'd have to keep quiet, that we couldn't do her any good anyway. I didn't know what else to do. But Alexei and I didn't kill her.”
“You've admitted you stole,” Risa said slowly. “Then, when you saw your friend strike Nora Toland, you didn't even bother to call for medical help immediately. You let her lie there dying, her brain swelling from that injury until it was too late to repair the damage. She might be alive if she'd been tended to immediately. I might believe there was some hope for you if you'd called a physician. Instead, all you thought about was hiding what you'd done. You're as responsible for her death as your friend.”
“We didn't mean—” Alexei started to say.
“We all h
ave enough chances to die here,” Risa burst out, unable to restrain her anger and disgust. “We're surrounded by air we can't breathe, barren mountains and plains, and sterile oceans. We came here to bring life to this world, and the only life it has so far is what lies under these domes. And you've brought death inside.” She looked toward one of the volunteer guards. “Take them away. Make sure they and their friend don't leave that room.”
“What are you going to do?” Alexei cried.
“Get them out of here.”
* * * *
The other Council members had been silent for some time. Alain pulled nervously at his thick mustache as he stared at Risa; Jeannine's fingers drummed against the tabletop.
“Well,” Curcio said, “what do we do now?”
“Let the Administrators handle it,” Istu replied; his dark face sagged with weariness. “They could demand that Earth take the men back and decide what to do with them.”
“I wonder,” Alain said. “That'd be like admitting that when we're faced with a difficult problem, we're unable to deal with it. The Islanders might feel compelled to take charge here more directly and do away with elected Councils. Earth may decide that if we have to turn to them now, it's time for them to take more control. We could even end up with Guardians in the settlements. We've got to act ourselves and in a way that ensures this kind of deed won't be repeated.”
“How?” Curcio asked.
“There will have to be a hearing,” Risa said, “and as soon as possible.” Her mouth twisted. “We wouldn't want our Habber friends to think they aren't safe here, and they're probably not used to anything like this. They've been withdrawing some of their people lately, and letting murderers run around loose is hardly likely to make them feel secure.”
“There's another way,” Jeannine said. “My grandmother used to tell me stories about her town on Earth. Sometimes they didn't have hearings or trials. If they knew someone was guilty of anything like this, they'd do away with the murderer and present their area Counselor with an accomplished fact. It spared the Nomarchy some trouble, and it's hard to act against an entire community. Generally, people looked the other way, and a town could get off with a warning.” She rested an elbow against the table. “If we delay, some people might take matters into their own hands. We'd have to hold a hearing for them afterward, of course, but many would accept a black mark on their records and punishment in the form of extra labor for a chance to be rid of those three.”
“No,” Risa said quickly. “That's just another way of admitting we can't control events, and it would be a poor precedent—the next time people might not wait for proof.”
“You sound,” Curcio said, “as if you expect this to happen again.”
“I want to make sure it doesn't, and it won't if we make an example of these three. They'll have their hearing. Anyone who thinks there might be hope for them can speak up, and they can cite any circumstances that might have contributed to their deed—not that any of that is likely to make a difference. Then we'll make our judgment.”
“What kind of judgment?” Alain asked.
They were waiting for her to say it. “When a thief's caught, we make him return what he stole or make restitution. When somebody inflicts bodily harm on another, he usually pays both in credit and in helping to care for the sick in our infirmary. Nora Toland isn't here to receive restitution for her death. Those men have to pay for her life with their own.”
“The Administrators will never allow our hearing,” Istu muttered.
“They'll allow it,” Risa responded. “They'll wait to see what we do, and they won't have time to stop us after the judgment is made. When Earth learns what happened to these three, people like them may think twice before they decide to go to those camps. They'll see what happens to people who prey upon their community.” She gazed steadily at each Councilor in turn. “Are we in agreement?”
“We usually decide what to do,” Jeannine said, “after the hearing's been held.”
“We've had what amounts to a hearing already. The rest is just a formality—presenting the evidence and making sure that everyone's aware of how serious this is. We also want them to back our judgment.” Risa folded her hands; her fingers felt cold. “Let's decide when and where to hold this hearing. It'll have to be soon—we should get this over with. Then I suggest that we all go to Nora's house to pay our respects to her household.”
* * * *
Nearly two hundred people had gathered at Nora's house. Risa and the other Council members made their way through the throng and murmured a few words to the mourners inside. The body had already been taken to recycling by the household, who had held a simple ceremony in keeping with Ishtar's ideals. Risa was relieved to hear that; turning the funeral into a large public occasion might have roused too many passions. She consoled one sobbing woman while promising to come to the memorial pillars when Nora's image was put there.
“She is Ishtar's now,” Kichi Timsen was saying to another woman. “Her spirit is with the One we have roused and with Whom we will all converge.”
Risa left the house. The light was beginning to fade; almost all of Oberg knew of the murder by now. She longed to be home, to look into her household's familiar faces and banish the memory of the evil she had seen.
She walked quickly until she came to a wooded spot overlooking a small bridge and a creek. She had often seen children playing in such places at this hour; now, she supposed, their parents had pulled them inside to safety. She thought of all the times Chimene had wandered off; she had scolded her for wasting time and bothering other people, but she had rarely worried about her daughter's being safe in the company of others.
Chimene suddenly seemed even more precious to her now. She would not allow her daughter's world to be inhabited by those three men.
“Risa?”
She turned around at the bridge. Kichi Timsen was coming toward her, dressed, in a plain gray coverall and her red and black sash. “I've been trying to catch up with you. I think we should talk. Istu told me you'd be holding a hearing in three days.”
Risa leaned against the bridge and gazed at the water below. “Yes, we are. We can't wait too long. As it is, there's probably time enough for anyone in the other settlements who can find an excuse and a ship with space to come here for the hearing. Most of them haven't seen anything like this.”
“They can view it over the screen, and you can hardly fit them all into the Administrative Center.”
“We're not having the hearing there,” Risa said. The Council had always allowed anyone who wished to attend a hearing in person to do so. Few hearings elicited much interest, but that would hardly be the case with this one.
“The mosque then?”
“The mosque couldn't hold them all either. We'll have to hold it on the open ground between the External Operations Center and the airship bay.”
Kichi drew in her breath sharply. “I don't think that's wise, Risa. You may find it difficult to control such a crowd during this hearing. My advice is to make an exception this time and allow only those who have testimony to offer to be present at the hearing. Anyone else who wishes to speak can do so over the screen.”
“We've already decided,” Risa replied, “and the announcement will go out after dark. I'm not going to bother trying to convince the others to change our plans now.”
“They'd listen to you.” Kichi rested her back against the railing. “The other Councilors often defer to your judgment. And what kind of decision will you make concerning those three men?”
“Come now, Kichi—you know we have to hold the hearing before we can make a decision.”
“You're being disingenuous. You would have discussed a probable sentence, and I have some interest in what it might be. Nora was my sister in Ishtar, and she died at the hands of three she had hoped to lead to the truth.”
Risa studied the woman in silence. Kichi Timsen had always been a mystery to her. The Guide's fine-boned handsome face wore its usual
serene expression, as if Kichi could no longer be troubled by the emotions others felt.
Could the Guide really believe all that nonsense she professed? Risa had always doubted it. Kichi was a geologist, educated at one of Tokyo's universities before joining the Project. Surely she had too much learning to accept what she claimed to believe, and yet during her youth, she had become a member of the cult. Ishtar's adherents then had come from among the more ignorant workers on the Project; Kichi and those closest to her had soon attracted others to the cult by giving its tenets a more sophisticated philosophical veneer.
Kichi's slender fingers toyed with her silver necklace. The woman was always wearing at least one costly looking ornament, and her house, by Oberg's standards, was spacious. Ishtar might talk of sharing while encouraging its members to share some of what they owned with less prosperous adherents, but the Guide's household apparently got a generous portion of goods and services. Such gifts, along with the respect paid to her, were enough to account for Kichi's look of serenity. Her position in the cult had given her a relatively pleasant life, and she often traveled to other settlements, since much of her work as a geologist could be done elsewhere.
It was easy to understand Kichi's motives for professing her faith, and yet Risa had heard no rumors indicating that the Guide's beliefs were less than sincere. Could the woman have worn a mask for so long without ever letting it slip? Had the pretense finally become real to her?
“You do have a right to be concerned,” Risa said at last. “Some will probably see Nora as a martyr to Ishtar. She should have complained about those men instead of asking them to her home, but then she wouldn't have had much chance of getting them into your group. You'll get your chance to speak at the hearing if there's anything you want to say.”
Venus of Shadows Page 26
