by Mike Resnick
“I don't know if it will satisfy me,” answered Rasputin, “but it'll make me a lot happier.”
“It's a deal,” said Redwine, absolutely confident that no one who didn't know exactly what they were looking for could uncover the minute, careful changes he had made. Lori and the rest would spend all their time on the two biggest-ticket items, the brothel and the casino, and he hadn't even begun working on them yet. They'd probably give up long before they got to the restaurants, the concessions, the fuel that powered the life support systems, all the unlikely places he had hidden the Comet's mythical losses. “They can audit me while I'm auditing them.”
“And will you turn over your card to me?” asked Rasputin.
“Not a chance,” said Redwine. “I have clearance to carry that card, and I intend to do so.”
“That's what troubles me,” admitted Rasputin.
“The card?”
“No. Your clearance.” He paused uneasily.
“Harry”—he looked toward the camera again—“Madonna—I like my job. I like working on the Comet and I'm very grateful to be working for Vainmill. They pay me well, they treat me well, and they've been very good to me. I wouldn't want to do anything to jeopardize my relationship with them.”
“Then just back off, and if you won't trust me, trust her.”
“I'd like to,” he said earnestly. “But this could still just be a test of Security, or of me.”
“It isn't.”
“Would you say otherwise if it was?” asked Rasputin with a smile. “Harry, you're a nice guy and I enjoy your company, but you're corrupt through and through. I can't take your word about anything.”
“Then take the Madonna's.”
He shook his head. “Corruption is like a disease; it tends to spread to everyone who comes into contact with it. I hope to hell the Madonna is telling the truth when she confirms your story, but I can't count on it.”
Redwine shrugged. “Then we're at an impasse. You want more details; I can't give them to you. I want you to believe me; you don't.” He paused. “What comes next?”
“I don't know,” admitted Rasputin. “But I'll go this far: I'll keep my doubts and my suspicions to myself until I know for sure that you're out to sabotage the Comet.”
“Fair enough,” said Redwine.
Rasputin got to his feet. “That's it, then?”
“Not quite,” replied Redwine, also rising.
“Oh?”
“You're right about one thing: there's a saboteur on board the Comet.”
“I assume you're referring to someone other than yourself ?” remarked Rasputin dryly.
Redwine nodded.
“I don't suppose you'd care to tell me who it is?”
“I don't know,” answered Redwine. “But you do.”
“Me?”
Redwine nodded. “Who told you that I knew Victor Bonhomme?”
Rasputin stared at him distrustfully. “That person is a saboteur?”
“A spy for the Comet's enemies, anyway.”
“What makes you think so?” asked Rasputin.
“Only a spy would know of my connection with Bonhomme.”
“Why?”
“I can't tell you.”
“Can the Madonna?” asked Rasputin.
“She can, but she won't.”
“Well, I'll keep it in mind, Harry.”
“You remember who it was?”
“Yes.”
“Will you tell me?”
Rasputin smiled. “I guess we all have our secrets, Harry.”
“Don't keep this one too long,” said Redwine seriously. “This person can cause all of us an awful lot of damage.”
“How much damage?”
“As long as I don't know who it is, I think my life will be in increasing danger.”
“Well, a guy who works at espionage ought to be used to that, Harry,” said the Security chief. “It goes with the territory.” He paused. “What other damage do you think this spy can do?”
“Put the Comet out of business,” said Redwine.
“I thought that was your department.”
“You thought wrong,”
“I hope you're right,” answered Rasputin seriously.
“Anything else?”
“No, I guess that's it.”
“Then let's go shower.”
“Sounds good to me,” replied Redwine. He smiled at the camera. “No peeking. I'm not at my best in the light.”
They crossed the gym and entered the locker room. Redwine went directly to his locker, muttered his code, and the door opened. He reached in, fumbled around for his skeleton card, touched four small areas in order, and walked over to Rasputin.
“I've jammed the security for a minute,” he announced softly.
“Why?”
“Because I didn't want the Madonna to hear what I'm about to tell you.”
The Security chief stared intently at him. “And what is that?”
“That she's in as much danger as I am.”
“You're sure?”
Redwine nodded. “The longer I don't know who's keeping tabs on me, the worse it's going to get.”
“She's a fine woman, Harry,” said Rasputin. “If you're telling the truth, getting her involved in this was a shitty thing to do.”
“I couldn't help it,” said Redwine. “But that's why I don't want you to wait too long before giving me the name I need.”
“I've got to think about it,” said the Security chief, a troubled expression on his face.
“Think all you want,” said Redwine seriously. “Just remember this: I don't give a damn what happens to the Comet, and I don't give a damn what happens to me—but if any harm comes to the Madonna because you wouldn't tell me what I need to know, and I live through it, you're a dead man.”
He returned to his locker and reactivated the security systems.
“How's your hand?” asked Rasputin, aware that they were being monitored once again.
Redwine examined his swollen fingers. “Well, I probably won't perform any piano concertos for a few days.”
''You shouldn't let yourself get so far out of shape.”
“I was never in shape,” grimaced Redwine.
They slipped out of their clothes and dropped them off at the laundry tube on the way to the showers.
The Gemini Twins were leaving just as they entered.
“I'm going to have to work out and shower at the Resort's gym from now on,” remarked Redwine, staring after them. “I don't just feel fat and ugly around here, I feel like a whole different species.”
“I saw you with Suma the night before last,” grinned Rasputin. “That'll take weight off you!”
“Lock someone in a room with her and I'll bet he dies of old age within a week!” said Redwine devoutly.
“Let's hope so.”
“What do you mean?”
“Lori told me this morning that she's Gamble's new instructor.”
“She? You mean Suma?”
“Right.”
“The poor son of a bitch. I have a feeling that she can be pretty demanding.”
“Maybe not. She's so busy she'll probably only get to work with him once or twice a week.”
Suddenly Redwine became aware of another presence, and turned to see a tall, statuesque black woman, her body moist and glistening, entering the shower area.
“Hi, guys,” she said pleasantly, as Redwine began edging behind the Security chief. “Anyone want to scrub my back?”
“What the hell,” said Rasputin with a smile and a shrug. “Why not?”
Redwine grabbed his arm as he started to walk over to her.
“Remember what I told you!” he whispered.
“Like I said—I'll have to think about it. As soon as I'm convinced you're telling the truth, I'll give you what you need to know.” Suddenly Rasputin grinned.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you look a lot more formidable with your clothes on?”
Redw
ine forced himself to laugh, waited until the Security chief was diligently scrubbing his companion, and left the shower. He dried himself off, dressed quickly, and was soon back at work in his office.
He knocked off in early afternoon and returned to his rooms, only to find that they had been emptied out. He then took the elevator up to the public room level and made his way to the Madonna's office.
She was sitting in her metal lounge chair, reading the Inferno. When she heard him enter she looked up and smiled.
“I've sent Adonis back to the Home,” she said. “He was heartbroken.”
“Better him than me,” replied Redwine, returning her smile.
“How's your hand?” she asked.
“I don't think we'll have to amputate. You saw the whole thing?”
“You're a good liar, Harry, but you're an absolutely terrible handball player.”
“Did I handle Rasputin okay?”
She nodded. “You did fine.”
He saw that the chess table was still empty.
“That wooden box I had in the suite last night—where is it?”
“In my bedroom, along with your other things,” answered the Madonna. She paused. “Sit down, Harry. I've got a question to ask you.”
He walked over to one of the sofas that flanked her computer/table. “Just how long a question is it?” he asked lightly.
“That depends on your answer. This morning you told Rasputin that your life might be in danger. Last night you assured me that it wasn't.” She stared directly at him. “Which of us were you lying to?”
“I never denied that the course of action we've chosen is more dangerous than cutting and running,” he replied seriously. “I told you last night that I thought I could keep it under control. I still think so.” He paused. “But the danger is there. I won't deny it.”
“And you think it will come from the plant?” she persisted.
“Directly?” He shook his head. “I doubt it. But the plant has got to be acting as a conduit. He can precipitate the danger based on what he reports. I think I can hide what we're doing—but I'll be honest: I'd feel a lot better about it if I knew who was keeping tabs on me.”
“Are you sure he's keeping tabs on you?” she asked. “Couldn't he be here on another assignment?”
“Not a chance. He knows about Victor and me.”
“And before long he'll know about you and me,” she added thoughtfully.
“It won't matter,” he said with more conviction than he felt. “He'll never know what I'm planning to do to the books. And besides, aren't prostitutes supposed to sleep with patrons?”
“You're not a patron, Harry. He'll know.”
“He'll know we've set up housekeeping together, and that's all he'll know. Probably he'll think I'm doing it to gain your confidence.”
“Are you?”
“If you believe that, I'm sure as hell not succeeding, am I?” he asked in pained tones.
“The last thing I want to do is hurt you, Harry, but there are questions I have to ask.” She paused.
“How much danger am I in?”
“More than if you change your mind and decide to leave the ship with me,” he said. “Less than me if we stay here.” He exhaled deeply. “The danger's not going to come now. It's going to come when we revert the books and expose what's been going on.
Hopefully I'll have found a couple of protectors on the Vainmill board of directors by then—and even if I haven't, I still think I can cover our tracks. The one thing they'll never figure is that I'm willing not just to cut down my own employer but to take a fall myself.”
“I hope you're right,” she said.
“Well, you've got company. I hope so too.” He paused. “Now I have a question to ask.”
“What is it?”
“I thought I wasn't moving in until I showed you how to work the card and rig the books.”
“I did a lot of thinking about that, Harry,” replied the Madonna. “It boils down to this: either I'm going to have to start trusting you or I'm not. I don't know anything about accounting or skeleton cards; nothing you show me might work when the time comes. So either I'm with you from the start of this enterprise, or I'm not.” She sighed. “I don't know if I've decided to trust you because I want so badly to believe in you, or because you've convinced me you're telling the truth.” She stared at him and shrugged. “I suppose it doesn't really make any difference in the long run. I want to be with you, and I want to protect my ship, and if it turns out you're lying again I'll just have to face that when I come to it.”
There was a long silence.
“Would you like me to get you your present now?” he asked at last.
“In a little while,” she said. “Would you like to look around first, now that you're going to be living here?”
“I assumed it was just like all the other suites.”
She smiled. “The madam gets special privileges.”
“How many rooms do you have?”
“Five. Six, counting this one.”
“What do you do with them all?” he asked.
“I live in them. I haven't set foot off the Comet in more than five years.” They stood up, and she walked over and took his arm. “Which room would you like to see first?”
“The bedroom.”
“Not the library?” she asked with a smile.
“Later.”
“Or the dining room?”
“Some other time.”
“But bedrooms all look pretty much alike.”
“This one won't,” he said. “You'll be in it.”
She led him through a door at the back of the office, down a corridor, and into her bedroom, a huge room that was decorated with opulent, if traditional, furniture, and filled with some of her more valuable objets d'art.
“Welcome home, Harry,” she said, as he began unfastening his tunic.
Chapter 10
When Redwine awoke, the Leather Madonna was no longer in bed with him. He tried three closets before he found the one that held his clothes. He pulled out one of his gray business outfits, then changed his mind and decided to wear something a little more colorful instead, and discovered to his surprise that he didn't own any colorful clothing. He made a mental note to stop by one of the shops in the Mall and purchase something that would put a little life in his wardrobe, then set his chosen outfit on the bed while he shaved and showered.
After getting dressed he made a quick tour of the apartment, and wasn't especially surprised to find that the Madonna was gone, probably off solving another of the daily problems that never seemed to diminish in frequency. He found a container of coffee warming in the kitchen, poured himself a cup, and finally went to the office to see if he could discover her whereabouts with the computer, and possibly join her.
He was four steps into the room when he noticed the chess set. He had given it to her just before they had gone to sleep, and she had seemed quite overwhelmed by it—but it wasn't until now, when he saw that she had actually taken the opposing forces out of their ornate container and set them up on the table, that he was convinced that she liked them as much as she had said she did. She had re-polished each piece before leaving the apartment—though they certainly didn't need it—and he had to admit to himself that they looked right in their new setting.
He walked over to the table, sat down on one of the chairs, and spent the next few minutes once again admiring the thirty-two pieces. He still didn't know what they had cost him, but if they made her happy they were worth it whatever the price.
He was still sitting there, sipping his coffee and re-examining one of the knights, an intricate sculpture of an armored warrior on a charging stallion, lance at the ready, the horse's mane and tail whipping in an imaginary wind, when a beeping sound told him someone was at the door. He commanded it to open.
“Where's the Madonna?” asked Suma, entering the office as the door slid shut behind her.
Redwine shrugged. “I haven't the slightes
t idea.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“Drinking coffee,” he replied. “What about you?”
“I have to talk to her.” Suma stared at him for a moment, then grinned. “You've moved in with her, haven't you?”
“Yes, I have.”
“Your taste hasn't improved any,” she said with barely concealed contempt. “Of all the whores on the Comet, why her?”
“I don't see that it's any of your business,” replied Redwine irritably.
“Is it because she's the madam?” persisted Suma.
Redwine merely stared at her without answering.
“It sure as hell isn't because she's the best in bed—or have you forgotten already?”
“She's good enough for me,” said Redwine, surprised that he felt as defensive as he sounded.
“You're a stupid man, Harry.”
“Perhaps.”
“You're not a very attractive one, either,” continued Suma. “So why did she let you move in?”
“Maybe I'm good enough for her.”
Suma shook her head. “Swans swim with swans; ducks swim with ducks.”
“Why don't you just let us worry about it?” suggested Redwine, hoping to change the subject.
“Because I don't trust anything that runs contrary to my experience,” she answered.
“Your experience is limited to staring at every ceiling on this ship.”
“It has to be that she's the madam,” said Suma, ignoring his remark. “That was dumb, Harry. She's not going to be the madam forever ... and then what will you do?”
“Who's going to replace her?” asked Redwine with a harsh smile. “You?”
“Eventually,” was her confident answer.
“You're sure of that, are you?”
“I'm the best there is, so why shouldn't I have the best job?”
“Modest, too,” commented Redwine dryly.
“The next modest whore you meet will be the first,” replied Suma. She paused. “I'm the only one who ever outlasted the Demolition Team.”
“Is that good?”
“Your Madonna couldn't have done it,” said Suma proudly.
“I sincerely hope not,” agreed Redwine.
Suma looked at him and sighed. “You're a fool, Harry.”
