Eros at Zenith: Book 2 of Tales of the Velvet Comet

by Mike Resnick

  “Most likely to precipitate this kind of action so many years after the fact. Check his file and see if he worked for Bello.”

  HE DID NOT.

  'What was his job during Bello's last year there?”

  VIDEO TECHNICIAN.

  “Who was his employer?”

  HE WAS SELF-EMPLOYED.

  “Well, there's got to be a connection somewhere. Bring up the information you accessed on Bello.”

  QUINTUS BELLO, BORN 323 G.E., CAUCASIAN, HEIGHT 5 FEET 9 INCHES, WEIGHT “Stop.”

  The screen froze.

  “Skip all that stuff: Get to New Sumatra.”

  BELLO WAS APPOINTED PLANETARY GOVERNOR OF THE COLONY WORLD OF NEW SUMATRA, 372 G.E., IN WHICH CAPACITY HE SERVED WITH DISTINCTION FOR 7 YEARS. IN 379 G.E. HE ORDERED THE DESTRUCTION OF 11,307 CITIZENS OF NEW SUMATRA. HE WAS CHARGED WITH GENOCIDE BY THE REPUBLIC, RELIEVED OF ALL DUTIES, AND TAKEN INTO CUSTODY. HE WAS TRIED IN 380 G.E., FOUND GUILTY, AND SENTENCED TO DEATH, BUT ESCAPED BEFORE THE SENTENCE COULD BE CARRIED OUT.

  “He can't be Morales,” mused Crane. “He'd be 78 now. The ages are all wrong.”

  BELLO HAS BEEN MISSING FOR 19 YEARS AND IS PRESUMED DEAD.

  “Well, dead or alive, he's the key,” said Crane. “Hypothesis: Infante knew of some connection between Morales and the Bello Affair and was blackmailing him, and—No! Strike that. It's wrong.”

  WHY? IT IS LOGICAL.

  “Because Infante wasn't killed by Morales. He was killed to scare Morales.”

  THAT IS STILL JUST A HYPOTHESIS.

  “No. It's a fact.”

  YOU HAVE NO PROOF OF THAT.

  “Look: If Morales killed him, he'd have hidden the body better or else left the ship before it was discovered. Let's try another approach.” Crane fell silent, frowning and staring at his hands. “Hypothesis: Morales had some connection with the Bello Affair, and Infante knew of it and was, if not sympathetic, at least not antagonistic. Check the records and see if they were ever on New Sumatra at the same time.”

  THEY WERE NOT. I TOLD YOU THAT YESTERDAY.

  “Were they ever on Deluros VIII at the same time?”

  THEY WERE BOTH ON DELUROS VIII FOR A 2-MONTH PERIOD LAST YEAR.

  “All right,” said Crane, straining to piece the puzzle together. “They met on Deluros.”

  109 MEMBERS OF THE VELVET COMET'S CREW WERE ON DELUROS DURING SOME PORTION OF EDWARD INFANTE'S RESIDENCY.

  “I don't care about the other 108!” snapped Crane. “Where the hell was I?”

  QUOTE: THEY MET ON DELUROS.

  “Okay. They met there, and arranged to continue meeting after Morales found employment up here.”

  WHY?

  “I don't know. But they made the arrangement, and somehow the killer found out about it and for some reason had to force some action during the next five weeks.”

  WHY DID HE KILL INFANTE RATHER THAN MORALES?

  “I don't know.”

  THAT IS A VERY TENUOUS CHAIN OF REASONING.

  “It seems to me that you've said that before.”

  I HAVE.

  “All right. Put your prodigious circuitry to work and tell me if it's wrong or merely tenuous.”

  TENUOUS.

  “Well, so far, so good.” He sighed and then stretched. “Not a bad morning's work. I suppose I'd better get back to my interviews, just for form.”

  WILL YOU WANT TO QUESTION ESTEBAN MORALES AGAIN?

  “Absolutely not. He's not the man we're after, and if I ask him enough questions he's going to figure out that Infante is dead. Why do the killer's work for him?” He paused. “That's why this is all going into a Priority File. I can't take a chance on someone in Security repeating what I've said. If it gets back to Morales, he'll do exactly what the killer wants him to do.” He finished his fruit juice. “Okay. Wait 20 seconds and close the file.”

  WAITING...

  “And if you come up with any ideas, re-open it and let me know what they are.”

  I DO NOT ORIGINATE IDEAS.

  “Pity.”

  THE PRIORITY FILE IS CLOSED.

  Crane made it through three more dull, pointless interviews with crew members and was just about to embark on a fourth when his holographic screen flickered to life and an image of the Black Pearl's face appeared.

  “Mr. Crane?”

  “What is it?”

  “I want to see you in my office.”

  “I'm busy.”

  “Then get un-busy,” she said furiously.

  “What's the problem?”

  “The problem is you, and if you're not here in ten minutes’ time, I am personally going to throw you off the Comet.” She broke the connection.

  Chapter 6

  The Black Pearl sat, back erect, knees pressed tensely together, on one of the couches in her office.

  Her hair was done in a number of small braids, each tipped at the end with a gold teardrop. A gold band, possessing large rubies and turquoises placed at regular intervals, circled her head like a crown.

  About her neck and shoulders she wore a flat gold collar composed of numerous six-inch strips of gold and tipped by rubies. Her breasts and midriff were bare, while her skirt was made of perhaps twenty metal strips, also gold. Her feet were wrapped in golden sandals, and she wore a golden band on her left arm.

  The Dragon Lady, wearing a dark blue robe, sat opposite her on the facing sofa, nervously smoking a Denebian cigarette.

  “He'll be here in just another minute or two,” she said at last.

  “I know,” said the Black Pearl.

  “Are you sure you don't want to change your clothes?”

  “I'm a businesswoman. These are my business clothes.”

  “But —”

  “One way or another we're going to get things straightened out around here,” said the Black Pearl.

  “Crane wouldn't hesitate to use every advantage he could think of if he had called this meeting, so why shouldn't I?”

  The Dragon Lady shrugged. “Have it your own way. To tell you the truth, I don't even know why I'm here, unless it's to play the role of the referee.”

  “You're here because this concerns the well-being of the Comet.”

  “Well, I just wish I were anywhere else. I see a confrontation coming up, and I don't want to get involved in it. After all, I have to work with both of you.”

  “There won't be any confrontation unless he wants one,” said the Black Pearl.

  “Of course there will,” said the Security Chief. “You know he's attracted to you, and yet look at the way you're dressed. He may be many things, good and bad, but he's not stupid. He'll know why you're wearing this outfit, and he'll feel resentful and antagonistic.”

  “I'll settle for uncomfortable.”

  “I think we'll all be uncomfortable before this thing is over. I'd much rather go look at your Night Crystals.”

  “You can do the next best thing,” said the Black Pearl. “Move over to the bar and sit on one of the stools. That way you'll be out of the line of verbal fire.”

  “Gladly,” replied the Dragon Lady, crossing the room. “And the fact that he'll now have to sit on the couch across from you wouldn't have anything to do with your altruism, would it?”

  The Black Pearl offered her a predatory smile. “Perhaps just a little.”

  They sat in silence for another minute, and then the security system beeped twice.

  “He's here,” announced the Dragon Lady.

  “I know.”

  “Well?”

  “Let him knock.”

  A moment later Crane knocked on the door and the Black Pearl ordered it to open.

  The detective stepped into the room, stared at the Black Pearl for a moment, then turned and nodded a greeting to the Dragon Lady.

  “Cleopatra?” he asked, turning back to the madam. “Or one of the Roman goddesses?”

  “Cleopatra,” replied the Black Pearl, stretching her arms along the top of the sofa.

  “I always thou
ght she was bitten by an asp. Now I get the distinct impression that she died of a chest cold.”

  “Sit down, Mr. Crane,” said the Black Pearl.

  He looked around the room, saw that the chairs were too far away, shrugged, and walked over to the couch.

  “What did you want to see me about?” he said, trying unsuccessfully to focus his attention solely on her face.

  “I'll get right to the point,” she said, crossing her legs and leaning back on the sofa. “I thought we were supposed to be working in concert.”

  “We are,” he assured her.

  “Then what's the idea of creating a Priority File?”

  “So that's what this is all about,” he replied.

  “That's just a hint of what this is all about. This is my ship, and nobody—not you, not anybody—keeps secrets from me on my ship.”

  “I wasn't keeping them from you.”

  “From who, then?”

  “From everybody.”

  “Why?”

  “Because there are certain matters that, in my professional judgment, should remain confidential.”

  “Your professional judgment doesn't count for anything on the Comet—and see if you can concentrate on my face when I'm talking to you.”

  “I'm getting just a little tired of your telling me what I should and shouldn't do!” replied Crane heatedly. “I'll say what I want and look where I want. My job is catching killers. Yours is laying on your back and staring at the ceiling. What gives you the right to order me around?”

  “I run the Comet—that's what gives me the right.”

  “Yeah? Well, it's about time you remembered who owns it and who's the goddamned hired help!” continued Crane. “The owners are paying me to do a job here, and I won't have you or anyone else telling me how to do it.” He paused, then continued speaking in a more reasonable tone of voice. “Look. There's no way in hell you can keep this thing hushed up forever. My function is to clean this mess up before it becomes public, and I can't do it if you try to tie my hands. Now, do you want this killer caught before the shit hits the fan, or don't you?”

  They were interrupted as the tabletop computer produced a holographic image of one of the women at the reception desk.

  “Yes?” said the Black Pearl distractedly.

  “Mrs. Weiboldt has just left for the fantasy room.”

  “Tell her I'll be a few minutes late,” replied the Black Pearl irritably, breaking the connection.

  Crane waited until he had her full attention once again. “Just out of curiosity,” he said, “why the hell were you spying on me in the first place?”

  “I wasn't.”

  “Then how did you know I set up a Priority File?”

  “That was my doing, Mr. Crane,” interrupted the Dragon Lady from her seat by the bar.

  Crane turned to her. “I almost forgot you were here,” he commented.

  “I can't imagine why,” she replied dryly, looking meaningfully at the Black Pearl. “Anyway, the computer is programmed to let me know whenever a Priority File is initiated, and my standing orders are to inform my superiors. The only two superiors I have on board are you and the Black Pearl, so I immediately told her what had happened.” She smiled. “It seemed a little pointless to inform you of your own actions.”

  “You should have cleared it with me first,” said Crane.

  “She followed her instructions to the letter,” said the Black Pearl. “And I, for one, intend to enter a commendation on her record for her prompt action.”

  “Oh, it'll go on her record, all right,” promised Crane. “I guarantee it.”

  “May I respectfully suggest that my record isn't the issue here?” said the Dragon Lady.

  “You're absolutely right,” agreed the Black Pearl. “It's Mr. Crane and his continued refusal to treat us as anything other than unreliable coolie labor.”

  The Security Chief shook her head. “If you'll forgive my saying so,” she replied patiently, “it's both of you.”

  “I don't suppose you'd care to justify that statement?” said the Black Pearl.

  “For some reason, Mr. Crane has so little trust and confidence in you and me that he found it necessary to hide what he's doing from us; and, conversely, for some reason, you have so little trust and confidence in Mr. Crane that you feel it incumbent upon you to force him to open that Priority File. I think you're both so busy sparring with each other that you've forgotten who the real enemy is.”

  “The real enemy,” said the Black Pearl, “is anyone who endangers my ship in any way.”

  “And did using a Priority File damage the Comet?” asked the Dragon Lady mildly.

  “I won't know until I've seen and heard it, will I?” said the Black Pearl. “But it's been my observation that Mr. Crane doesn't give a damn about the welfare of the ship or the happiness of its patrons. Just whose side are you on, anyway?”

  “Since I'm the one who has to work with both of you, I'm on the side of accommodation,” replied the Dragon Lady. “Mr. Crane,” she continued, turning to the detective, “can you tell us, if not explicitly, at least in a broad general manner, exactly what is in that Priority File?”

  “Of course I can.”

  “Will you?”

  “Well, now, that's another question,” he said. “If I tell the two of you as much as I feel you should know, will you get off my back?”

  “That depends on what you tell us,” said the Black Pearl.

  Crane shook his head. “You've got two choices: you can agree to my terms and accept what I'm willing to tell you, or you can refuse to agree, in which case I won't tell you a damned thing. There's no third way.”

  “I don't like ultimatums,” said the Black Pearl.

  “Then you shouldn't force me to deliver them.”

  She stared at him coldly. “All right,” she said at last. “It's a deal.”

  He turned to the Dragon Lady. “Do you agree too?”

  “I was never going to question you in the first place,” she replied. “I merely followed a given procedure.”

  “All right,” he said. “Cupid, do you know who this is?”

  YOU ARE ANDREW JACKSON CRANE.

  “Right. Everything that gets said in this room goes into my Priority File we created until I tell you to close it.”

  WORKING ... READY.

  Crane turned from the computer, found himself staring at the Black Pearl's bare breasts, and forced himself to look across the room at the Security Chief.

  “I know why Infante was killed,” he announced at last.

  “To scare someone—or so you said,” commented the Dragon Lady.

  “But now I know who the murder was meant to scare,” replied Crane. “And I think I know what the murderer was trying to scare him into doing. I didn't put it into a Priority File to keep it from you; I put it there because if either the killer or the man he was trying to frighten found out what I knew, we'd never get to the bottom of this thing.”

  “And now you can?” asked the Black Pearl.

  He nodded confidently. “I can deliver the killer to you by tomorrow morning.”

  “Why tomorrow?” demanded the Black Pearl. “Why don't you make an arrest right now?”

  “I intend to,” he said.

  “Then that's that,” said the madam. “What the hell was the big secret?”

  “I think I know,” interjected the Dragon Lady softly.

  “Well?” insisted the Black Pearl.

  The Dragon Lady smiled at Crane. “The man you're going to arrest isn't the killer, is he?”

  Crane returned her smile. “You're a pretty sharp old lady,” he said.

  “I'll forgive you the ‘old lady', and thank you for the rest.”

  “Will someone tell me what's going on here?” said the Black Pearl.

  “I don't know who the killer is,” said Crane. “He's covered his tracks pretty well.”

  The Black Pearl frowned. “I thought you knew all about how and why he killed Infante.”


  “Not those tracks. What he did aboard the Comet is very easy to recreate,” replied Crane. “It's his tracks from New Sumatra to the Comet that are the problem.”

  “New Sumatra?” repeated the madam. “What's that got to do with anything?”

  “More than you suppose,” said Crane. “The man the killer was trying to scare was on New Sumatra during the Bello Affair.”

  “The Bello Affair? I remember reading about it. Wasn't Bello the one they called the Bloody Butcher?”

  Crane nodded. “Yes.”

  “And Infante was there at the same time?”

  “No. He showed up a couple of years later.”

  “Then what's the tie-in?”

  “They were both on Deluros VIII at the same time.”

  The Black Pearl smiled condescendingly. “There are nine billion people on Deluros. Are you trying to tell me that Edward Infante was the only one who'd ever been to New Sumatra?”

  “No,” said Crane. “But he's the only one who had been to New Sumatra and wound up getting killed aboard the Comet. He made trips from Deluros to the Comet on a regular basis.”

  “So do thousands of other men and women,” she pointed out.

  “True,” agreed Crane. “But he didn't start coming up here until after you'd hired the man the killer was trying to scare. He must have been a contact—some kind of go-between.”

  “Between who and who?”

  “Between the man I'm going to arrest, and whatever New Sumatran organization has set up shop on Deluros VIII.”

  “You're absolutely sure of this?” asked the Black Pearl.

  “I am.”

  “What does Cupid say?”

  “I see you're calling him by my name,” he noted smugly.

  “What does he say?”

  “He doesn't say I'm wrong.”

  “Does he say you're right?”

  “It's not that simple,” said Crane. “Cupid is capable of analyzing trillions upon trillions of bits of information, which means he can not only see the likeliest possibility, but every possibility, no matter how remote. He won't say I'm right until he, has so much information—by which I mean proof—that only one possibility remains.”

  She frowned. “Then we have to rely upon your expertise.”

  “I told you once before: I'm the best there is.”

  “And I believe I commented upon your modesty once before,” she replied. She stared at him for a moment. “All right, Mr. Crane: you have studiously avoided mentioning the name of the man you intend to arrest. Why?”