by Mike Resnick
“If they saw you at The Uncut Diamond, then they saw me, too. What exactly did this Blue Devil say?”
“That what I was doing wouldn't work.” He paused. “That's her way of telling me to go in after her.”
“You're jumping to conclusions.”
“I don't think so.”
“Maybe the Blue Devils are trying to scare you off before they have to bring the Oracle to Port Maracaibo.”
Chandler shook his head. “This has the Oracle's signature on it, believe me.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because if she wanted me dead, the Blue Devils know where I am. They'd have sent me a bullet or a laser beam, not a vidphone call.” He paused. “But if she wants me to bring her out, this is exactly the way she'd tell me.”
“You killed seven Blue Devils tonight,” said Jade. “Why wouldn't they retaliate regardless of her wishes?”
“Because she told them not to,” said Chandler. “And because she and she alone has manipulated things to keep them from being assimilated by the Democracy.”
“That doesn't make any sense,” said Jade. “First you make her sound like a prisoner, and now you're telling me that they're afraid to disobey her orders.”
“Maybe the two aren't mutually exclusive,” suggested Chandler. “Maybe as long as she gives them valid information, they let her live ... and if she ever misleads them, they'll kill her. Under those circumstances, they'd give her the benefit of the doubt, because the alternative would be to kill her and they don't want to do that if there are any other options. Besides, look at her message: it sounds like she's dealing from strength and trying to frighten me off.”
Jade was silent for almost a full minute. Finally she looked directly into Chandler's eyes.
“You can't go,” she said.
Chandler frowned. “More doubts?”
“While you were in your room, I tied into the Master Computer on Deluros.”
“And?”
“And I told it to locate any information that was available about the Oracle,” she continued. “It qualified its information by saying that it was only valid if she had once been known as the Soothsayer—but some of the details matched what you've told me about her.”
“What point are you trying to make?” asked Chandler.
“When she was eight years old, she was able to kill some of the best bounty hunters on the Inner Frontier,” said Jade. “And that was when she was just a little girl. She's a grown woman now, and it's reasonable to assume that she's even more powerful now than she was then.” She looked across her desk at Chandler. “She killed eight armed bounty hunters in a single afternoon on a planet called Killhaven. I don't want any part of her—it's not worth the risk.”
“If she was easier to kidnap or kill, the rewards wouldn't be this great.”
“Don't you see?” said Jade in frustration. “This woman has the power to hold the Democracy at bay. Those Blue Devils aren't even cold yet and she already knows you killed them. If she's being kept on Hades against her will, then I say: good for the Blue Devils, and let's leave her there.” She paused. “The Blue Devil who contacted you gave you good advice: go home.”
“I've got a job to do first,” said Chandler. “Besides, aren't you curious to see her, and find out what she can really do? I am.”
“I don't want to be the one who turns her loose on the galaxy.”
“You don't have to have anything to do with it,” he said. “I just need to find some way to get to the planet without being detected.”
“You aren't going to have anything to do with it, either.”
“Don't try to stop me,” he said ominously.
“I won't let her escape from Hades,” she replied firmly.
“You don't have a choice.”
“Of course I do,” she said, producing her pistol. “I told you once: you're not the only killer in this room. I let you live before, but I'm afraid now you've left me with no alternative.”
“You really intend to kill me?” he asked.
“I do.”
“How do you know that this isn't what the Oracle wants?”
Jade frowned, as if considering the question, and in that instant, as her concentration wavered, he made a swift motion with his hand. She grunted and dropped her pistol as a knife buried itself in her throat.
Chandler walked over to her. “I'm sorry,” he said. “But you were going to kill me.”
“You're a fool,” she whispered hoarsely. “You've destroyed us all.” Then she slumped over and died.
He left her where she was sitting, pausing only long enough to retrieve his knife, then returned to his room, took the airlift down to the garage, and walked out into the Port Maracaibo night.
Part 4:
THE ICEMAN'S BOOK
23.
The Iceman took the shuttle down to Philemon II, made his way to the large hexagonal building that was his destination, and flashed his temporary pass at the door. Once inside he walked directly to the Information computer, queried it briefly, and walked to an airlift. He was required to display his pass again and undergo a retina scan, after which he descended almost 200 feet below ground level.
He stepped out into a maze of shining, brightly-lit corridors, waited for an armed soldier to approach him, displayed his pass a third time, and was ushered to a small waiting room. He barely had time to light a small cigar when a door slid back and another soldier stepped through.
“He'll see you now, Mr. Mendoza.”
The Iceman walked to the door, then entered a large office as the soldier moved aside and the door closed behind him.
“Carlos!” said 32, looking up from his chrome desk and smiling. The wall behind him was filled with the memorabilia of a lifetime devoted to government service, including a personally inscribed holograph of the current Secretary of the Republic. “It's been a long time.”
“24 years, give or take a month,” replied the Iceman.
“You haven't changed much.”
“Maybe you'd better have your eyesight tested,” said the Iceman. “I'm a 63-year-old man with a pot belly and an artificial leg.”
32 smiled. “No, you haven't changed at all, Carlos,” he said. “Always a little too blunt, always inclined to disregard a well-meant social lie.” He uttered a terse command to his computer and a chair floated over. “Won't you have a seat?”
The Iceman sat down. “How about a drink?”
“Name it.”
“Whatever's wet. Unless you've changed more radically than I think, you haven't got anything cheap lying around.”
32 chuckled in acknowledgment. “How about some Alphard brandy?”
“Sounds good,” said the Iceman.
32 walked to a wall that appeared to be covered with bookshelves, pressed a certain spot on it, and a section of the holographic projection vanished, to be replaced by a well-stocked bar. He filled two glasses with brandy, handed one to the Iceman, and returned to his desk.
“Thanks,” said the Iceman.
“It's from a new vineyard,” said 32, straightening the glowing fabric of his expensively-tailored tunic, which had wrinkled slightly when he sat down. “I'm anxious to have your reaction.”
The Iceman shrugged. “What the hell,” he said. “I've got all day. Let me know when you want to talk business.”
“You never believed in small talk, did you?” said 32 wryly.
“It's your money,” replied the Iceman. “Chatter all you want. But when you're through, I hope you'll get around to telling me why you promised me three million credits if I'd come to Philemon II.”
“I didn't think you'd come for less,” said 32 frankly. “It's my understanding that you've become a very wealthy man.”
“I get by.”
“But you were still willing to come for three million credits,” noted 32.
“It's a lot of money, just to take a trip.”
“There's more where that came from.”
“I'
m listening,” said the Iceman.
“We've got a serious situation on our hands, Carlos,” said 32.
“Who's ‘we'?”
“You know who I work for.”
“All right, you've got a serious situation on your hands. What has that got to do with me?”
“Well, to be perfectly candid, Carlos, you're working for me.”
The Iceman smiled. “So you sent Bettina Bailey, or whoever she really was, to Last Chance.” He paused. “I knew someone in the Democracy sent her, but I didn't know who.”
“I sent her,” confirmed 32. “And you accepted her commission.”
“I'm working on it.”
“To be more precise, Joshua Jeremiah Chandler, alias the Whistler, is working on it. Am I correct?”
The Iceman stared levelly at him. “I see no reason to lie about it. He's younger and stronger and a hell of a lot quicker than I am.”
“But I hired you.”
“In point of fact, you didn't hire anyone. Your operative did—and I sent the best man for the job.”
“Well, it may interest you to know that the best man for the job has gone off the deep end,” said 32.
“I very much doubt that.”
“Have you been in contact with him since he reached the Alpha Crepello system?”
“No. But I didn't expect to be, not this soon.” The Iceman drained his glass, then relit his cigar, which had gone out.
“I'd be surprised if he ever contacts you again,” said 32. “Do you know what he did when he landed on Port Marrakech?”
“Port Marrakech?”
“One of Alpha Crepello III's terraformed moons.”
“Suppose you tell me,” said the Iceman.
“He murdered the best assassin on the moon and took over his business. Then he moved his base of operations to Port Maracaibo, where two nights ago he killed the woman who ran most of the brothels and rackets on that moon.” 32 paused. “Damn it, Carlos—the man has become the criminal kingpin of both moons, and I financed him!”
The Iceman shook his head. “You're not telling me everything.”
“I certainly am. What he's done is a matter of record.”
“I know the Whistler. He has no intention of leaving his home world; in fact, he only takes assignments to pay for that jungle world he lives on.”
“I tell you, the man has turned,” insisted 32. “He's in business for himself now.”
“Slow down a minute,” said the Iceman. “He began just the way I'd have begun. He set himself up on the first moon. This would assuage any fears Penelope had that he had come after her, and would make it easier for him to buy information about her.” The Iceman paused. “Obviously he was successful. But if he was, there was no reason for him to move to the second moon.”
“He's turned renegade.”
The Iceman shook his head again. “He wasn't on the first moon long enough to consolidate his holdings. Something made him change his base of operations.” He stared at 32. “Something you're going to have to tell me about if this conversation is to proceed any farther.”
32 stared at him, then sighed deeply. “Someone tried to kill him.”
“One of your men?”
“No. But one of the Democracy's. We're not the only department concerned with the Oracle.”
“Come on,” said the Iceman disbelievingly. “They were your men and you decided it was the most efficient way to eliminate him.” He paused. “So the Whistler found out you were trying to terminate him, and he moved to another moon. The only thing that surprises me is that he didn't change his identity.”
“He did.”
“Then how do you know he was there?”
“He killed a woman known as the Jade Queen. A number of people who worked for her gave us his description.”
“I assume you haven't picked him up?”
“He's vanished completely,” said 32. “But it's just a matter of time before he surfaces again. He hasn't had time to establish his authority there yet.”
The Iceman looked amused. “The years haven't made you any wiser, I see.”
“Where do you think he'll show up?”
“He's probably on Alpha Crepello III by now.”
“Then why did he kill the Jade Queen?”
“I have no idea.”
“I don't buy it,” said 32. “Every move he's made since arriving has been directed toward taking over the criminal networks on those two moons.”
“Have it your way,” said the Iceman nonchalantly. “I didn't come here to argue with you.”
“You came here because I paid you to.”
“That's right,” agreed the Iceman. “And for three million credits, the very least I can do is listen to your ramblings politely.”
“Look,” said 32 irritably. “I told you we had a problem. Even if you're right about his reaching Alpha Crepello, we still have a problem.”
“I'm still listening.”
“Word has come down that we don't want to risk bringing the Oracle out. My new orders are to terminate her.”
“I wish you luck,” said the Iceman.
“I need more than luck,” said 32. “I need results.” He paused. “Will the Whistler kill her?”
“Only if he can't find a way to bring her out,” answered the Iceman. “In case it's slipped your mind, that's what you paid for.”
“Can you contact him and tell him the situation has changed?” asked 32. “After what happened on Port Marrakech, I doubt that he'll believe me, even though I had nothing to do with the attempt on his life.”
“I doubt it,” said the Iceman thoughtfully. “If he's on the planet, he'll stay under cover until he reaches her.” He paused. “Your best bet is to send someone else in after her, and hope your new operative reaches her first.”
“I've sent eight men in,” said 32. “The first seven were killed.”
“What about the eighth?”
32 grimaced. “The eighth was a criminal that I had released from jail. Brilliant planner, brutal killer.” 32 paused. “I had him wired all the way—camera in his eye, transmitter in his ear, even a bomb in his skull to keep him in line.”
“And?”
“The son of a bitch found a way to disconnect me!” said 32 furiously. “He's already held me up for more money, and he's operating without any guidance or constraint!”
The Iceman grinned. “I like him already.”
“He's also got orders to kill your man if he shows up on Hades.”
“Hades?”
“That's the trade name for Alpha Crepello III.”
“Why is he supposed to kill the Whistler?”
“Because the Democracy has decided that it would rather have her dead than alive and abroad in the galaxy.”
“It won't work,” said the Iceman after some thought. “The Whistler's as good as they come. Your man won't lay a finger on him.”
“I don't care if he kills him or not!” snapped 32.
“Then I'm at a loss to understand your problem.”
“Damn it, Carlos—I've got two men down there. One of them is going to try to bring her out, and if she's willing to go with him, then that's the last thing we want. The other knows that ten million credits have been deposited in some secret account that even I haven't been able to trace, and he knows he's facing a death sentence if we get our hands on him.” He paused, trying to regain his composure. “My assignment is to terminate the Oracle, and I have no reason to believe either of the men on Hades will accomplish that.”
“You could be right,” agreed the Iceman calmly. “It looks like you've wasted a lot of money.”
“It's partly your fault,” said 32.
“Oh? How do you figure that?”
“There's only one man who knows Penelope Bailey well enough to do the job. You were the one I hired, Carlos; if you took the money, you should have done the job yourself.”
“I'm a fat old man with a limp,” answered the Iceman. “I got you the best there
is.”
“He may be the best assassin, but he doesn't know her. You do.”
“Look,” said the Iceman. “I want her dead even more than you do. She killed someone I cared about, and she cost me my leg.” He paused, and put his cigar out. “But I also know her capacity for harm. She's potentially the most dangerous being in the whole damned galaxy, maybe in the history of the galaxy, so I passed up a chance for personal vengeance to hire you the man most likely to get the job done.”
“Well, he's not getting it done. He's killing criminals and taking over their operations.”
“I'll bet you the three million you promised me that he's either on Hades or en route to it.”
“But even if you're right, he's not going to try to kill her.”
“Not at first,” acknowledged the Iceman.
“You know her capacities,” said 32. “If she knows he's there, and she isn't willing to leave with him, what are his chances of killing her?”
“Just about nil.”
“My own man might be able to sneak up on her,” continued 32, “but he has no reason to. He's been paid plenty, and he has no reason ever to contact me again.”
“You can't sneak up on her,” said the Iceman. “She doesn't have to see you to know you're there. She can see what's going to happen next, and if she doesn't like it, she can change it.”
“You see?” said 32. “That's the kind of thing that the Whistler and Jimmy Two Feathers don't know! That's why I need you!”
“Jimmy Two Feathers?” repeated the Iceman, surprised. “You sent the Injun in after her?”
“You know him?”
“I know of him. He's a seed-chewer.”
“That's why I had him wired.”
“Well, you can forget about him,” said the Iceman. “If he's not under your control, he's floating off in limbo somewhere.”
“There are no seeds on Hades.”
The Iceman stared at him. “You really believe that, don't you?”
“We monitor every cargo shipment to Hades.”
“If there's a planet they can't smuggle seed to, it hasn't been discovered yet.”
“That's neither here nor there,” said 32. “If he's on the seed, that's all the more reason why you have to go in.”
