Kinsolving felt a cold wind across his spine as the thought came to him that the computer might be updated at any time. When it was, any use of his identicard would bring down company guards in droves.
He pushed the worry aside. If he dwelled on it, he might accomplish nothing. Courage had carried him this far. Courage would get him to Fremont and total absolution.
Outside the LA terminal, Kinsolving simply stood and breathed the fine, pure, cool air. A gentle wind blew from the north. That meant it was late afternoon. Every five hours, the direction of the wind changed by ninety degrees in a clockwise pattern, returning to any given direction exactly one GT day later. Kinsolving walked a few paces and turned. At his back rose Mt. Abrupt. In the far distance, hidden by the gleaming shaft of the headquarters building would be Mt. New Daisy Bates. Having his bearings, Kinsolving hailed a passing car, used his identicard and told the robot, “Supply.”
He settled back as the quick spurt of acceleration thrust the car through traffic and toward the company warehouse. He needed more than a single change of clothing if he wanted to present a good appearance at Interstellar Materials’ anniversary party.
Completely outfitted, he charged the bill against his accrued salary. Every use of his identicard caused Kinsolving to tense but the use was always authorized.
He knew it couldn’t continue much longer. He had to reach Fremont — soon.
Going directly to the headquarters building with his newly packed cases, he entered the main lobby and looked around. Only once before had he been here. Then he’d had a guide to usher him up to the appropriate corporate office. Without such a guide, he didn’t have any idea how to proceed.
He went to an information counter and toggled the Attention switch.
“How may IM be of service?” came the computer generated voice. He had asked in one of his college courses why the information ’bots were never equipped with truly human-sounding voices. The professor had chuckled at the notion.
“Humans love being served,” had been the answer. “You can dominate a robot, abuse it, insult it, walk away and feel better. A human treated similarly will make certain your request is never granted — or will be granted in the longest possible time.”
“Efficiency,” Kinsolving muttered.
“All IM employees strive for efficiency,” came the robotic voice.
“I’m looking for Lark Versalles. She has a suite.”
“That information is secured.”
“I have some of her cases. Not all were delivered,” Kinsolving said, changing his tack. The computer didn’t care; a human would. Another count for machine over man when trying to dodge the system’s rules.
“Leave them at the service entrance, northwest side, entry port five.”
“They must be carried by hand. I will do it.”
Kinsolving waited for the computer to make the proper decision. “One moment, please, while I contact the suite.”
“Barton?” came Lark’s immediate cry from the speaker. “Is that you? Where did you go?”
“Give me the entry code. I’m in the main lobby.” Kinsolving looked around, certain that he would be detected at any instant. The feeling of paranoia grew inside until he wanted to scream. He felt exposed and was sure that every passing person would turn and point at him and begin to yell for guards.
“I’m on level forty-seven. Go to the lift shafts at the far side of the lobby and just give my name.”
“You used your name as entry code?”
“Oh, don’t be like that, darling. Daddy always chides me about such things. I know better, but it’s so hard remembering silly codes and all that. This way I never forget and lock myself out and get embarrassed. Do hurry. It’s so … lonesome in this big suite.”
“Be right up,” he assured her. Before he left the service robot, he said, “Send my cases to suite code Lark Versalles.”
“Right away, sir.” The tiny pop indicated that the order had been transmitted even as he gave it.
Kinsolving heaved a sigh of relief as he hurried across the wide marble-floored lobby. His fears had turned out to be irrational. So far everything had gone well.
He reached the elevators and pressed the summons button, stood back and waited.
The door opened — and out strode Cameron, a robot hunter-killer humming along on its repulsor field at his side.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Barton Kinsolving felt the blood rush from his head. The dizziness assailing him turned into advantage. He turned to one side, hand hiding his face. Kinsolving bent over and went to one knee, facing away from Cameron. The man stopped; Kinsolving waited for the hand on his shoulder, the nerve-jangling impact of a stun rod, the shouted cry for guards, the robot to attack.
It did not come.
“Are you well?” Cameron asked.
“Too much t’drink,” Kinsolving said, slurring. “Wunnderful party.”
Cameron sniffed. “I dare say you’ve outlived your invitation at any party I wish to attend.” The overdressed man snapped his fingers and the hunter robot attentively followed.
Kinsolving chanced a look up to see the brightly dressed Cameron vanish in the crowded lobby. For long seconds, Kinsolving couldn’t stand. His legs were too weak and shaky. He finally took a deep breath and forced calm on himself. He had almost come face-to-face with the man responsible for his woes. That he still lived spoke as much of pure luck as it did skill.
Kinsolving didn’t lie to himself about escaping Cameron. Surprise had to be a major element. No one would expect a fugitive to return to the source of corporate power. And Kinsolving had to admit that Cameron and Humbolt might not even know he’d escaped from the prison world. Would the aliens sound an alarm and warn the human worlds — especially Gamma Tertius 4 — of his singular escape?
He took a quick glance into the elevator cage and saw that it was empty. Only then did he enter and touch the code switch and say, “Lark Versalles.”
The sudden rise of the cage drove him to his knees. Clumsily standing, Kinsolving was glad that he was alone. Explaining such behavior would be difficult — and it would make him memorable. The last thing he wanted now was to be memorable.
“Think small, think insignificant,” he told himself.
The doors opened and all attempts to be insignificant vanished. A robutler hovered near the opened elevator door and said, “Welcome Master Barton. Lady Lark awaits you in her suite.”
In addition to the robot, several human servants stood impassively along the walls, waiting for the slightest hint of need. Kinsolving tried not to gawk as he trailed behind the robutler. The carpets had to be Persian. No other design and texture felt this way beneath his feet. Paintings from renowned artists decorated the walls, with tasteful statuary placed so that the lines broke in unexpected spots. Most of all, the area was dominated by the panoramic view from the diamond-clear windows over the city, dots and squares of green betraying parks and browns and grays showing buildings.
Kinsolving walked along in a daze of wonder at such wealth. His prior visit to GT 4 hadn’t revealed this aspect of Interstellar Materials’ operations. He knew that he had blundered into a world reserved for only a select few.
A select few like Lark Versalles.
“Darling!” the woman greeted him. She threw her arms around his neck and swung him about as he walked into a room even more expensively decorated than the area outside. He hardly noticed the room’s furnishings. Lark was gorgeously nude and outshone even the most cleverly contrived artwork.
“Do you like it?” she asked, bouncing away from him to display the canvas of her bare skin. “I had some of the dyes redone and intensified the colors in others.” Nipples gleamed a bright blue, then faded to gray-blue, only to change into hues Kinsolving couldn’t put a name to. Her breasts changed shades to stay complementary to her nipples, and the rest of her body coloring writhed with a pseudolife that took away his breath.
“Fantastic,” he murmured.
&
nbsp; “I knew you’d like it. But do hurry. We’ve got a reception to attend. Not a big one, just a few hundred of the top IM execs.”
“Lark, wait,” he began.
“You’re not going to vanish on me again, are you? That was rude, disappearing like you did at the LA.” She stamped her foot in mock anger. The action of foot against carpet caused jagged edges of coloration to rise in her left calf.
“I had to get some papers,” he said. “My identicard.” He swallowed and tried to look her squarely in the eye. The effort proved almost more than Kinsolving could achieve. The spectacle of her body drew him powerfully, as it was designed to.
“But now that you’ve got all that you want,” Lark started.
“The party,” he said. “Who is going to be there? I’ve got to make contact quickly. If I don’t … ” Kinsolving let the words trail off as he remembered the chance encounter with Cameron in the lobby. The man might have been dressed like some courtier from eighteenth century France, but Kinsolving remembered the look on his face when he killed the Lorr agent-captain. Cameron had enjoyed it, truly enjoyed the murder. Behind that fancy exterior lay a cold and cunning mind.
“Oh, you can be such a bother,” Lark said in exasperation. “Just about everyone will be there. Don’t worry, my darling. I’ll introduce you to someone who can help. I promise.” With that, she spun, lifted elegantly on one toe to accentuate the muscles in her legs and send new patterns arrowing up along those slender calves, then dashed off to dress.
Kinsolving collapsed into a chair and simply stared out across the city. He ought to be enjoying the promise of Interstellar Materials’ two hundredth anniversary. For the past hundred years the company had been on GT 4 making this small segment of the world into paradise.
Kinsolving looked at the city and saw only bleakness. His life lay shattered and the only hope of piecing it together again was dressing in the next room, more intent on choosing the right gown than helping him. Kinsolving shook his head. He shouldn’t complain. If it hadn’t been for the chance landing of the Nightingale he would never have escaped the alien prison.
Coldness clamped his heart. Had Lark’s arrival been pure chance? Did Humbolt plan something more for him, something even more diabolical than incriminating him in murder and theft?
Kinsolving couldn’t figure out what that might be. But one question that he’d never had a chance to ask did come to mind. He called out, “Lark, will you answer a question?”
“Certainly, darling, if you’ll tell me which you prefer. This one or this awful blue monstrosity.”
Kinsolving spun in the chair. Lark had turned on the glamour mirror and stood before it naked. Reflected was her face and lush body clothed in a scintillating rainbow of electricity. The fabric seemed to be more plasma than solid, shifting and shining, glowing and hiding.
“This? Or this?” She touched the frame of the glamour mirror and the rainbow vanished, replaced by a blue gown that seemed plain in comparison.
“The blue,” he said without hesitation.
“But it doesn’t do anything,” Lark protested.
“What will the other women be wearing?”
The blonde smiled slowly as she understood. “Oh, yes, I knew there was a reason I brought you along.” She danced over to him, bent and kissed him lightly on the lips.
“Lark, the question. Who is your father? Why does IM give you such a lavish welcome?”
“Daddy’s so rich, he could buy and sell Interstellar Materials a dozen times over. That’s why they fawn all over me. They’re afraid I might say something nasty and then he’ll actually buy them out.”
“He’s a stockholder?”
“Hardly. Don’t repeat this, but Daddy would never have anything to do with a company whose revenue came from grubbing in the dirt. Nothing against you, darling Barton, but you must admit that it is rather primitive.”
“But — ” The door chimes interrupted Kinsolving. He sank down in the chair, letting the back hide him as the robutler glided over to answer.
“Lady Lark,” the machine said, “the summons for the party has come. The opening presentations will be made in exactly five minutes.”
“Oh, and I don’t have anything to wear.”
“The blue dress,” Kinsolving said.
Lark touched the frame twice, then tugged at the glamour mirror’s edge to reveal a cabinet. Inside hung the blue dress, specifically tailored to the measurements recorded in the mirror. Lark hurriedly dressed. Kinsolving hadn’t thought the woman capable of such speed. She took his arm and almost dragged him from the room.
“We’ve got to be on time for the opening. That’s when I’ll be able to see who I can contact in your behalf.” She squeezed tightly on his arm and guided him toward the elevator. The robutler obediently held the ornately wrought doors open. Again the sudden acceleration almost drove Kinsolving to his knees.
Before he could speak, the doors slipped away to show level one-oh-one and the party goers already filling the immense room.
“Time to go to work,” Lark said, laughing. She pulled him forward and immediately began greeting elegantly dressed men and women in dresses so dazzling Kinsolving worried that he might need polarized goggles to keep from squinting. A few he recognized as junior executives at IM — he prayed that they didn’t recognize him.
But Kinsolving need not have worried. If he stayed with Lark Versalles, he would never be the center of attention.
He quickly found, though, that he couldn’t stay beside her. Not when the men clustered around her forced him away. He silently drifted to one wall and clung there, eyes scanning the party for anyone he might approach. A few junior vice presidents were in attendance but he didn’t see Humbolt — or Cameron. He had hoped to find Chairman Fremont, but the frail man was nowhere to be seen.
Kinsolving hung back during the opening ceremonies. This was the first party of a month-long celebration IM planned to celebrate two hundred years of business off Earth.
“Friends of Interstellar Materials,” a dark, pretty woman said from a small stage in the center of the room. “Welcome. Chairman Fremont regrets that health has prevented him from attending today, but he has entrusted me with the joyous duty of dedicating this statue of Thaddeus McIntyre, the illustrious architect and builder of our headquarters, the man whose vision and foresight took us away from the planet of our origins and carved out a niche on Gamma Tertius 4.”
The woman spoke of happiness and light, but a coldness about her made Kinsolving think of icebergs and the hard vacuum of deep space.
“Who is she?” he asked a woman standing by him.
“That’s Director Villalobos.”
Kinsolving said nothing more. Maria Villalobos was often mentioned as Fremont’s successor. He had never seen her before, much less met her — but her presence convinced him that she was not the proper one to plead his case. The cold light from her eyes made it obvious that Cameron wasn’t the only person at IM without scruples.
He might be doing Villalobos a disservice, but he didn’t think so. Kinsolving looked around in time to see Lark leaving, arms linked with a young man dressed in an old-style tuxedo. Kinsolving started after them, then stopped. He didn’t know what he would be interrupting — but he could guess.
Trying not to look too uncomfortable, Kinsolving floated around the periphery of the crowd. He felt a sense of forced merriment about them. These young IM executives were here for business, not pleasure. They worked one another, jockeying for power and influence, seeking information to use for profit and blackmail. Kinsolving watched in a mood approaching awe, remembering similar parties he had attended. His own actions hadn’t been much different. Although he was a damned good engineer, he wasn’t expert enough to be made supervisor at his age without also being good at trading information and influence.
He marveled that he had once played this game. Kinsolving was now an outside observer; all was apparent to him. If only he didn’t have to find someone to clear him,
he might have enjoyed this revelation.
Some social sense caused him to jerk about in time to see Lark returning with the man. They parted and she quickly went to the side of another, older man. Kinsolving knew that Lark enjoyed this party, as much for the sexual opportunities it afforded as for the contact with wealth and power.
He moved quickly to within a few paces. The man she spoke to seemed familiar. When Kinsolving heard the blonde’s words, he recognized his chance.
“Oh, Director Liu, this is such a fine party. You planned it, didn’t you?”
The director of IM’s financial division basked in Lark’s praises. Within ten minutes, they left, Lark’s fingers toying with the fastrip at the front of Liu’s pants. The director playfully batted her hand away, but not too hard, not enough to discourage her.
Kinsolving followed at a discreet distance.
“Director, can we go to your office? I would ever so like to see it.”
“No, Lark, not there. It’s at the top of the building. Even with my private elevator, it would take too long to get there. I want you, my lovely. Now!”
Lark squealed in joy as Liu pushed her into a small, intimately lit room. Kinsolving moved quickly, fingers curled around the edge of the door to keep it from closing and locking. He didn’t have to worry about Liu or Lark seeing him. They were intent only on each other.
Kinsolving’s uneasiness at watching vanished when he saw Lark toss the director’s jacket across the room. It hit the floor with a dull thud that told Kinsolving something bulky was hidden away in a pocket. When the pair fell to the immense bed and began serious lovemaking, Kinsolving crept along the wall to where the jacket lay. He fumbled in the pocket and found a secure-case holding the director’s identicard and at least a dozen other entry cards.
Kinsolving took the secure-case and left the room. It would be at least a half hour before Liu noticed the theft. If the man’s power appealed enough to Lark, it might be longer than that. Kinsolving found another small room and went inside. It took him almost fifteen minutes to break open the secure-case and pull out the identicard. He pocketed it. The other cards were clearly marked for the security areas they granted access to.
The Stellar Death Plan (Masters of Space Book 1) Page 14
