Oath of Fealty

by Larry Niven

  "Well, of course he would."

  "Yeah," Bonner said. "And he took the kid to Medical and had them take blood samples. Zach and himself. What he wanted was complete blood types. Rh factor, M & N factors, the whole damned works."

  She frowned and started to frame a question in her mind, but there was no response.

  "The only reason for that kind of test is to establish paternity," Bonner said. "Which he did. Insignificant probability that the boy could be anyone's but his."

  "But he did want to find out," Barbara said. "All right. Fine. But-Art, you don't really think Tony Rand is giving information to the Fromates."

  "I don't know what to think. They'll be back, Barbara. With real bombs, as soon as they know enough about our new defenses."

  "Yes, but Tony?"

  "I'm scared to think. Barbara-suppose he is? He understands MILLIE better than we do! And MILLIE knows almost everything we know. So when you mentioned Genevieve just after Tony was acting crazy, all I could think of was to get the hell out and go where nobody could listen to us, not even MILLIE." He grinned. "Sorry I was so melodramatic about it, but I really was scared to think about it. I never felt that way before."

  "I feel it too," Barbara said. "I think it's called panic. I don't blame you for wanting to run. But - Art, I thought no one could get at our files."

  "Any security system is vulnerable. Especially to the one who set it up in the first place."

  "Yeah, but come on, Art. I don't believe Tony is a traitor, and you don't either."

  "No. And he's not usually a blabbermouth. But I imagine it's hard to keep secrets from your wife, even if you're not living with her. What did he want you to talk to her about, anyway?"

  "She wants to live in Todos Santos. According to Tony, she's wanted to for a long time, but he won't let her. Now - " She repeated the conversation she'd had with Tony.

  "She's putting the screws on, and Tony doesn't want to talk to her," Bonner said thoughtfully. "Which may not mean anything, and may mean-"

  "I'm sure not. Certainly, she could be blackmailing him, but Tony wouldn't have told her about the security codes."

  "Renn got them from somewhere," Bonner said. "And Tony's acting damned funny-"

  "I'd act funny too if you told me to plan a jailbreak."

  "Would you?" He was perfectly serious.

  She had to think about that one. "No. I guess I wouldn't. Are we going to break Pres out?"

  Art spread his hands. "Got any better ideas? Only-if Tony's compromised, so is the plan." He poured more drinks, for himself and for her.

  "Should we be drinking any more?"

  "Feeling it?"

  "Some," she admitted.

  "Good." He stood up, his eyes on hers.

  So here it comes, she thought. Or not. It's all up to me. All I have to do is make some funny remark. Or say anything at all. He's scared to death! Of me? Why not? I've been a bit afraid of him myself.

  She stood. Without her heels her head was just at the level of his chin and she had to tilt her head up to look into his eyes. They were very close in the narrow cabin. She stood, waiting, wondering what he was going to do. It was a funny situation, Art Bonner, decisive manager of Todos Santos, the man they all expected to be God, standing there trying to get up the nerve to touch his colleague.

  Maybe we'd better leave. Things won't ever be the same between us if we- He put his hand on her shoulder. His easy grin was back.

  "Damnation," he said. "I kept hoping for a wave or something to throw us together."

  She giggled. "The boat's awfully steady-" Then, laughing, she threw herself at him. He caught her easily.

  XV. SECRETS

  Extrasensory perception. Abbr. ESP Perception by supernatural or other extraordinary means.

  -American Heritage Dictionary

  It was long past noon, and Cheryl had started getting dressed, when she found the knife. Lunan was still in bed, a little too happy to move yet, watching her. She pulled his pants out of the tangle of their clothing and was ready to toss them to him, but she noticed the weight of his belt buckle.

  First she studied the big, ornate steel buckle. Then she pulled on it, experimentally. She found the catch and it came out of the belt and became the handle on a five-inch blade.

  "That's one you didn't show me," she said.

  Lunan chuckled. "You were nervous enough."

  She nodded "It felt ... dangerous. Walking all that way from the garage and knowing there were no guards watching. Why do you park that far away?"

  "Well-"

  "I know, you want the car safe, you told me. But how can you feel safe, walking back? Is that what the knife is for? A knife?"

  "I've never had to use it yet."

  "Suppose the mugger has a gun?"

  Lunan sat up grinning. "Does being nervous turn you on?"

  Cheryl grinned back. There's no way she could deny it, Lunan thought. No way at all. She was turned on last night, and that's what did it.

  "It felt ... adventurous. I've never done anything like this before," she said. She shook her head, curls flowing. "Like something out of the past ... something starring Clint Eastwood, with enemies on all sides of us and only one strong man to protect me."

  I ain't Clint Eastwood, and I ain't all that strong, but I'll accept it- They had arrived in late afternoon. He had showed her the locks on his doors, the cheap stereo equipment in plain sight, the good equipment all hidden, the shotgun behind the sofa, watching her reactions. He had assumed she would need soothing, but the opposite was true. It had excited her. They had made love at once. Twice. And they only pulled themselves out of bed to cook dinner.

  That had fascinated her, watching him playing at impressing her by playing chef. She'd never cooked a meal in her life. He'd finished in time; they ate during the broadcast of Lunan's documentary on Todos Santos.

  For I am your bold deceiver, thought Lunan. Poor Miss Bailey, unfortunate Miss Bailey! Todos Santos had no place for the unabashed cocksman.

  She'd disagreed with some of what his television image was saying. They'd argued far into the night. He'd gleaned more than enough material to start another documentary. Dan Rather, watch out!

  But her attitude was ... suggestive. He was going to have to brace Bonner again, and soon. If the rest of the Saints felt the way she did, then Thomas Lunan wanted in. The next step Todos Santos took could make Thomas Lunan famous. He watched her, a pretty but not beautiful girl, attractive but not irresistible, and totally unaware that she was the key to the riches of the Indies...

  In that sense alone, Cheryl Drinkwater was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

  When she tossed him his pants, he bowed to reality and began getting dressed.

  She stopped in the doorway as they were leaving.

  "What?" he asked. She was studying him closely.

  "I had a lovely time, Tom. But I don't think I'll be back."

  Lunan had expected this. Sure. Not bloody likely you would. But we both got what we wanted ... "You'd be very welcome." She shook her head "I know," Lunan said. "It was an adventure. You don't have to repeat an adventure. But maybe you'll change your mind." He knew that she wouldn't.

  An angel had gone slumming. No more than that. But-how much variety could there be among the Todos Santos boys? Any Angelino was bound to be an interesting experience for Cheryl. She's cut off from the mainstream. One of us is.

  Anyway, I tried to make it interesting for her. God knows it was for me, and I owed her that, maybe. But if I'm a little miffed, she's never going to know it-

  Barbara woke in semi-darkness. The dock lights were on outside, and some of the yellow light filtered past the curtains on the cabin windows and fell on the cabin table, making strange patterns on her neatly folded tailored suit and striped panties. Her brassiere atop the pile didn't look like clothing at all. She moved lazily, snuggling closer to him, and felt his arm tighten around her.

  "Your poor arm must be asleep," she whispered.
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  "It's all right-"

  "Why didn't we think of this before?"

  He chuckled softly. "I've thought about it for five years."

  "Hmm. Me too. But not quite like this-"

  The smile was still in his voice. "No. I wondered what-"

  "Yes. Well, we'll just have to find out, won't we?" She giggled. "Here we are, both of us wondering what telepathic lovemaking would be like, and we still don't know."

  "We can find out."

  "Or not," she said. "Art - are you sure we want to continue this? We've stolen an afternoon. I'll bet they're going crazy back there, wondering where we are. But they're wondering, now. Do we want them to know?"

  "Do you care?"

  My darling, I don't care one damn bit, but then I'm a bitch with no reputation anyway. You're the one who's got to worry. "Do you?"

  "Right now I don't even want to go back."

  "Now just one minute, Mister! That's not even funny as a joke."

  "Why not?" His voice was serious, and that was just a little frightening. "We're both rich. It's not as if we need our jobs-"

  "The hell we don't," she said.

  He was quiet for a moment. "Yeah. That's the part Grace could never understand. That I could love my job and still love her-"

  "Now you've gone and said it."

  "Said what?"

  "That word. Love. Is this love, Art?"

  "They call it making love."

  "Damn you, don't make jokes. This is serious."

  "Is it?"

  "It could be."

  He was quiet for a long time. "Do you mean that?"

  "Yes."

  "Good."

  "I think we've been in love for years," she said. "If love is sharing and caring and respecting."

  "Hmm. Love without intimacy."

  "We haven't needed intimacy. We can get all of that we want, anytime we want," she said. "And have."

  "Sure, but it's not the same, these affairs-"

  "No." She nestled closer to him, then bit his nipple.

  "Ouch. Turn about's fair play-"

  "Not yet. Let's go back. They really will be worried about us. And you've got a jailbreak to plan."

  "Sigh. I suppose you're right. One of us has to be sensible. You don't mind if I lose my head over you once in a while?"

  "I want to move in with you. Would you feel crowded?"

  "Um ... we can make the next apartment over an adjoining one." A pause, and a scowl. "Maybe. Check on it when we get back."

  "Good enough. We're at an age where we'll want some privacy. And that'll make it official." She swung her feet over the edge of the berth and began putting on her brassiere.

  "What's the all-fired hurry?"

  "Because, my darling, not only will they be worried about us, but-"

  "But?"

  "I blush to speak of it, but there does remain that unanswered question," she said. "And at our age, I doubt we could manage anything three times in one day-"

  He locked his fingers in her bra strap; tugged gently. "You're kidding yourself. We're not going back to make love." She turned to look at him. "We're going back to face a dozen emergencies. I've got to check on Rand, and see if he's come up with anything ... " His fingers loosened as he spoke. " ... see how we're doing with the new defenses ... the bastards could be breaking in with real bombs! And I should be checking on ways to get Pres out of California ... " His hand dropped from the strap. "God knows what's come up since we left, but MILLIE'll tell us as soon as we're in range. Late tonight, if we're lucky."

  She nodded solemnly. "Midnight. Your place. I can get myself moved in by then. Damn."

  "What?"

  She laughed. "I tried to log it."

  .* * *

  Bonner felt MILLIE return to him while the subway train was still approaching Todos Santos.

  MILLIE?

  RECEIVING.

  Summary.

  Information flowed. Nothing urgent had happened. He glanced over at Barbara. She was staring at the ceiling, her eyes half closed.

  Appointments?

  NONE SCHEDULED. THOMAS LUNAN HAS REQUESTED ANOTHER APPOINTMENT AT EARLIEST CONVENIENCE. HE SAYS HE WILL WAIT IN THE MIDGABD BAR.

  Screw him. Tell Delores I'll be in shortly.

  ACKNOWLEDGED.

  He waited until Barbara's eyes opened fully. "Anything interesting?"

  "You rushed me off so fast I forgot an appointment," she said accusingly. "I haven't done that in years."

  "Important?"

  "Well, it could be. Sir George Reedy."

  "Ah. Well, he wants to learn something. He won't be annoyed. Or at least he won't admit to it."

  "I suppose. Ah. Here we are. With any luck I'll see you about midnight-"

  "I'll keep an eye out for you."

  Bonner's office staff had gone home, of course, leaving a thick stack of messages on his desk. Five were from Lunan, who seemed desperate to see him. Art thumbed through the stack, then dropped them into the wastebasket before settling into his big high-backed leather chair and putting his feet on the desk. He reached out to touch a button on the telephone console.

  A pause, then Delores's voice came through. "Boss?"

  "Here. How's Tony?"

  "I fed him vitamin B-1 and a gallon of water. He'd never heard of that. Can you imagine? He's just been living through the hangovers."

  "Is he in condition to talk?"

  "Better than that. He sobers up as fast as he gets smashed. We've been making notes on the you-know-what. On paper. Tony's a little afraid of putting any of this in the computer."

  "Good. Keep it that way. I'll drop in on you in an hour or so, if you don't mind."

  A momentary hesitation, then, "Fine. Welcome. But keep it short. He has a dinner appointment with Reedy."

  " ... Skip it. Send him to the sauna instead. 'Bye."

  MILLIE.

  HERE.

  Locate Thomas Lunan.

  MIDGARD.

  Telephone link. Midgard headwaiter.

  After a moment, the telephone said, "Yes, sir?"

  "Find Thomas Lunan. He's a visitor, in the bar somewhere. Send him up here."

  Art Bonner's outer office was dark, and Thomas Lunan stumbled twice as he made his way to the slightly ajar inner door. Shouldn't have had a fourth drink, Lunan thought. Hell with that.

  Art Bonner was sprawled in a big leather chair. He didn't get up when Lunan came in, but he waved toward an open sideboard. "Make yourself a drink."

  Lunan poured a small scotch and filled the glass with soda. He took a seat and lifted the glass. "Cheers."

  "Cheers," Bonner said. There was a long silence. "All right, what is it?"

  "I've been thinking of a diplomatic way to say this," Lunan said. "And there isn't one. Mister Bonner, are you planning a jailbreak?"

  That threw him, Lunan thought. Got right to him.

  "Why do you ask that?" Bonner demanded.

  "Because you are," Lunan said. "And no, nobody told me. You don't have to worry about security leaks. I've talked to too many of your citizens. They expect you to get Preston Sanders out of jail."

  "Who else knows? On the outside?" Bonner asked. "Nobody I know of. Which doesn't mean someone else hasn't thought of it. But I haven't told anyone. Maybe I should have." Lunan waited for Bonner's response, and got an inquiring look. "I mean, you guys play that rough, you could make me disappear. I'm not one of your citizens. You don't figure you owe me a thing-"

  "What's the point of this?" Bonner demanded.

  "I want in," Lunan said. "I want an exclusive, on everything. In return, you get the story told the way I tell stories. Superbly. You saw my documentary?"

  "Yes. It did us no harm-"

  "It did you a lot of good, and you know it. Look, you want the story to get out. Not naming names, of course. But you want Los Angeles to get the message-"

  Bonner looked thoughtful. "Perhaps."

  "Perhaps, hell," Lunan insisted. "THINK OF IT AS EVOLUTION IN ACTION. Soci
eties evolve too. That's the story you want out, and I'll see it gets out!"