by Ward Wagher
“It seems that you have spurred her to become an active manager. She is quite adept at running her own business. I believe you would regret having her leave government service.”
“All right. I will make it a point to speak to her. Anything else on the docket?”
“I have reserved a block of time for you to begin reading the city documents this afternoon.”
“Oh, thanks, Holden.” He tried to inject as much sarcasm as possible into the statement.
“I am delighted to be of help, Sir,” Palmer said as he stood.
Palmer sailed out the door as RWB looked around on his desk for something to throw at the little man. Every time they had these tests of will, the Paladin felt like resigning himself.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
In his late teenage years, RWB had purchased an estate sited on Lake Michigan north of the city. He had been charmed by the Tudor design of the house. His purpose was in getting out from under Pop’s thumb, but falling in love with the architecture was a bonus. The building was ancient – perhaps seven or eight-hundred years old, and meticulously cared for. During the time of troubles, as the old city of Kenosha had crumbled under the onslaught of the changing climate and the repeated pandemics, a previous owner had lovingly protected the house and property from the depredations visited by man and nature.
Since the house had been preserved, but never really updated, RWB had initiated a thorough renovation which allowed the placement of modern technology unobtrusively throughout the property. RWB had fallen under the spell of the magnificent old house and now loved it like nothing else. This onetime retreat from his father was now a retreat from the unending demands made upon the Paladin by his government and by his people.
RWB and Scout sat on the patio and watched the fat snowflakes drift downwards against the gray backdrop of the lake. He and Scout drank from a selection of beverages in the cart rolled out by the majordomo of the house. Since leaving the hospital, RWB had kept the girl close by and worked to ensure that no alcohol or drugs were within her reach.
They had spent the afternoon conversing a multitude of topics, and he was surprised again at the breadth of her knowledge. They shared opinions of the leaders of the other nations on Earth and extended their thoughts to the colonies under the stars that shown down upon the Sphere of Man. She suddenly shivered as they talked.
“What is the matter?”
“It is not really a pleasant day outside,” she replied.
“But the enviro-screen keeps it comfortable here on the patio.”
“It is May and it is still snowing,” she complained. “Perhaps we should visit the Southeast coast. It would be much more pleasant. We could walk on the beach.”
“So, we could,” RWB agreed. “I have not been to Hilton Head for several years. Once we return to Chicago, I will insert a trip into my calendar. If we visit the CFS, the O’Blecks will feel obliged to stick their noses into my business.”
“Can we not just ignore them, RWB? Warren has bad breath.”
The Paladin chuckled. “That might be an understatement. It usually smells like something has died in his mouth. But, when I travel to another nation here on Earth, I need to make polite noises to the respective governments. So that means I will likely have to either host a reception or attend one. The O’Blecks know that we really do not like to socialize with them, so they take full advantage.”
“Besides, Warren tried to put a move on me at that party in Capetown.”
“If you want me to, Scout, I can have a word with Warren’s dad. Tomas O’Bleck has no tolerance for that type of behavior. One of his very few virtues, I am afraid.”
“Warren has no virtues that I have observed,” Scout commented.
“It will likely be several weeks before I can set something up,” RWB warned.
“Could we go inside and sit near the fire? It is depressing out here.”
“Sure.” He stood up. “I am about ready for something hot to drink.”
“Irish Coffee would be nice,” she replied.
He ignored the comment, not wanting to disturb the afternoon with an argument. The girl was always ready to roll up her sleeves and have at it, and he usually enjoyed the jousting matches. But he really wanted to relax on this afternoon that he had caged away from Holden. The secretary had an entire list of items that needed his attention. The little man had all but blocked the door when RWB tried to escape.
While the numerous fireplaces in the residence were gas-fired, he had kept the wood-burning grate in place so he could enjoy that atavistic pleasure in the small drawing-room. The aroma of wood smoke and the crackling embers suffused him with a sense of calm. And the hot coffee, without the Irish Whiskey, went down very well.
“A good suggestion to come in,” he told the girl.
They sat on the sofa, facing the fire, and he had his arm around her.
“I like this,” she said. “It is cozy. It is really the most comfortable room in this pile of stone.”
“You do not like my house?”
“The rooms are too big. It really is a waste of space for just two people. I was talking to a couple of people from Montreal at a party last year. They have a five-hundred square foot flat. And they are well off.”
If they were attending those parties, RWB mused, they were well off. The free market had not penetrated very far into Quebec, and so genuine wealth was rare. Those who had money in that wintry land kept a low profile. The rich were still viewed with deep suspicion by the populace.
“The northern part of the continent is a grim place to live,” RWB said. “Everyone is now convinced the glaciers are on the move, and the people in the northern cities are spending their energy protecting their real estate. I sometimes wonder if it is about as effective as bailing the ocean.”
“I certainly would not want to live there,” Scout said. “It was Robert and Pamela Vesq – I just remembered their names – told me they have to get completely out of Quebec to find any entertainment. That is why they come to the parties.”
“I can understand that.” The Paladin pondered things for a while before speaking again. “While Earth is generally pleasant and peaceful, it still has some dreary places.”
“I was not impressed with Pacifica, now that you mention it,” Scout said.
“Getting shot at tends to make me chary of a place.”
“Not just that, RWB,” she scowled and poked him in the ribs. “The people there seem really, I do not know what the word is…”
“Self-righteous?” he helped.
“I think that is it. Portland is a clean city, but it is almost like they have made the environment their religion.”
“That is it, exactly,” RWB replied. “They have combined their police force with the group that makes decisions about the environment.”
“Can you imagine something like that in Chicago?”
“It would not fly. I mean, we have a clean city and we pay attention to wastes, but we do not make a fetish of it. It is just something you do.”
“Right,” she agreed. “Is there anyone else we might criticize this afternoon?”
He laughed.
The conversation subsided as they enjoyed the fire in companionable silence, RWB sipping his coffee and Scout working on hot chocolate. She had a demanding sweet tooth and took every opportunity to sate it.
§ § §
It could have been a resort hotel anywhere. The conference facilities displayed the same earth-toned carpet and wall-hangings. The huge chandeliers were garish and the mirror accents about the room were overdone. The difference was that this was Rafferty’s Hotel on Luna. Although the resort was only four hours by shuttle from Earth, the place was still something of a novelty for those climbing out of the gravity well from the mother world.
Those visitors observant enough to notice the mostly concealed bulkheads and emergency equipment would be reminded that they were on an alien and inhospitable world, where only the technology prevented an ugly d
eath.
RWB was convinced the chair in the meeting rooms were as uncomfortable as those on Earth. Indeed, they had probably come from the same vendors. In addition to holding a reception, Holden Palmer had arranged for an informal summit with representatives of many of the colonies in the Sphere of Man. He concluded that though the venue was not wonderful, the food was exceptional. The ambassadors and chargés d'affaires in the meeting kept slipping away from the table to visit the buffet.
When the enviro systems swept the aromas of the buffet across the conference area, RWB gave in to his temptation and excused himself for a few moments to visit the table himself. The Baughmans had a genetic predisposition to weight problems, and he knew he would pay for his indiscretions when it came time to work off the extra pounds.
A tall, thin brunette was at the table as well. She had been introduced to him as Machewood Carter, the representative from New America. When he had trouble getting his tongue around her name, she had told him to simply call her Mosh.
“I feel as though I am making a pig of myself,” she explained as she rolled a half-dozen meatballs onto a plate. “For some reason, this food is well above average.”
“I feel the same way,” he replied. “This is really excellent.”
“I am fortunate in being able to eat just about anything without putting on poundage” she explained.
“Unfortunately, I cannot say the same. I will pay for this with a lot of self-discipline when I return home.”
He speared several pieces of chicken and a scoop of broccoli casserole. He was not big on vegetables, but this was good. The woman stood waiting for him.
“This is my first time away from New America,” she explained. “I wonder if you could tell me more about Earth and the Palatinate sometime?”
“Of course. I would be delighted to do so. I believe the others at the table are waiting for us, though.”
“Of course.” And she smiled and then winked at him.
He smiled to himself as he walked back to the table. The challenge was to find something to occupy Scout while he explained to Mosh the details of the Palatinate.
The meetings seemed interminable to him. The representatives from the colony planets were mostly concerned about their security. The Merchants and Manufacturers League Navy was tasked with piracy suppression and worked hard at it. Unfortunately, the volume of space occupied by human colonies grew faster than the ability of the league to expand the navy. Or to even finance it. Most of the new colonies were hardscrabble affairs that threw off little excess cash. Financing even small warships was an expensive undertaking and beyond the means of all except the wealthier worlds.
After spending the afternoon commiserating, the group broke up to give themselves an hour to prepare for the dinner. He had hoped to spend some time with Mosh, but the woman had disappeared. He went back to his suite to change and to make sure Scout was ready for the dinner. She was curious about the diplomatic meetings and readily agreed to attend the dinner with him.
He arrived in the suite to find her in bed with a cold. The Lunar colony was a bit isolated, even from Earth and the Lunar government worried about visitors from Earth bringing in illnesses. It was more often the fact that tourists would catch a virus that had developed on its own in the colony spaces and the tourists had no resistance to the bugs. The result was unpleasant, but rarely life-threatening, so little was said.
RWB sat on the edge of the bed where Scout was propped on a pillow.
“You look like you are down for the count,” he said sympathetically. “Is there anything I can get for you?”
“Thank you,” she said through runny eyes and nose. “You are a dear. When I felt this coming on, I ran upstairs to the store in the lobby and picked up some things.
He looked at the cold medicines and extra beverages on the nightstand and decided the girl was competent at self-doctoring.
“I have my com, so call me if I can get you anything. I have a dinner to go to. I will check in on you later.”
He bent over to kiss her, and she waved him off. “Do not get close. You do not need to catch this. I have heard about it. It is basically harmless, but I feel like something that has been out in the sun for too long.”
He chuckled. “Get some rest. I need to leave.”
She limply waved as he left the room.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“I am going home,” Scout said.
RWB looked around his expansive bedroom and noted the girl’s packed luggage. He looked back at her curiously.
“How long will you be gone?”
“I may not ever come back,” she declared. “You promised me you would not continue to boff these other girls, and I know of at least twice you did not come back to the hotel all night.”
“I was busy, Scout. Sometimes the work keeps me up all night and then some.”
“Right. Did you know that your eyes start looking all around the room when you lie?”
“What? No. I mean I am telling you the truth.”
She snorted. “Your truth is pretty stretchy. I like being with you, RWB, and I enjoy sharing your bed. But I will not tolerate sharing you with other women. You are going to have to make some decisions.”
“I do not want to lose you, Scout.”
“Ha!” she shouted. “How can I even believe you when you say things like that? The only person you are truly interested in is RWB.” She poked him in the chest. “I am just a convenience for you.”
“Please do not leave,” he said softly. “I know I am not everything I should be. But I could not live without you.”
“I will tell you what, Mister Paladin. I will give you some time to think about living without me. Mother has been begging me to visit. As long as I do not see too much of Daddy, I will be fine.”
She snapped out the handles on her two large totes and pushed the button to turn on the counter-grav. The totes rose to about six inches above the floor and hovered there. She swung her purse over her shoulder and begin towing the baggage of the Paladin’s Suite.
“Wait,” he called.
She ignored him and walked through the doorway to the hall. He watched as the door slid closed. He looked around the bedroom at the unmade bed and his clothing strewn across the floor. He shrugged and walked to his office.
“What have we got?” he asked as Holden Palmer followed him into his office.
“Ms. Carter, the New American Chargé d'Affaires has asked for a meeting. She said that she had items of mutual interest with the Palatinate.”
“Fine, set up a private dinner meeting. Here would be good.”
“You should not trust the New Americans,” Palmer commented. “They have a reputation for taking and not giving.”
“I understand that, Holden. But, if they want to talk, I am certainly willing to listen.”
“I worry that you will put the Palatinate at a disadvantage.”
RWB glared at the secretary. “What makes you think that I will compromise my integrity and that of the Palatinate? I did learn a few things from Pop, after all.”
“But your father did not sleep with the New American Chargé d'Affaires.
“And he missed something delightful,” RWB chuckled.
“I do not think you are taking this seriously,” Palmer said. “I worry about your stewardship of the Palatinate.”
“Siddown, Holden,” RWB said sharply.
He watched as the little man scurried over and planted himself in a chair. He now had a nervous look on his face.
“I do not believe you understood me,” RWB said softly. “There will be no compromise of the Palatinate by me or anyone else. Is that understood?”
“I… I am simply trying to safeguard our nation and its leader,” Palmer stammered.
“No, you were not. You were trying to manage me. You routinely do a marvelous job of keeping me out of trouble and helping me make sure the government runs smoothly. I appreciate that, Holden. But here you are crossing a line. I will not have i
t.”
“You can have my resignation at any time, Ward,” the secretary said in a somewhat stronger voice. “You must allow me to do my job.”
“I will not allow you to resign, and I do not accept what you say. If you seriously feel that I am failing in any way, you and I can sit down with Chaim and Clinton and hash things out. I know that I am responsible to the people of the Palatinate and its leadership. I have not done a single thing to damage the Palatinate.”
Palmer glared at him for a few moments before speaking. “Are we through here?”
“I think so,” RWB said in a normal tone. “I believe we both have things to do.”
“Very well.” Palmer stood and walked slowly from the office.
“Sheesh!” RWB ran his hands through his hair.
He looked down at the work queue displayed on his desk and sighed. Although it was only late morning, he knew that he would have to be in early the next day to make some progress on the workload. With the evening’s planned activities, he anticipated getting little sleep. Between Scout and Holden trying to dictate his life, he was not making a lot of progress on this morning.
He reached out and snagged the first item from the three-dimensional display. The document opened when he released it. He began reading a stultifying proposal for a spaceport in Louisville. He thought the idea made some sense, but the writing made him sleepy. He was simply going to have to plan a day off so he could sleep in for a bit.
He forced himself to focus on the document and worked his way through it. He looked up a little later to see Chaim Lewis sitting across from him.
“What? Did I go to sleep?”
Lewis chuckled. “No, but I admire your ability to concentrate. You probably would not have noticed a bomb going off.”
“I do not even want to joke about something like that.”
“Given recent events, that was probably in poor taste,” Lewis conceded.
“What brings you to my aerie today, Chaim?”
“I received a call from Holden Palmer a bit ago. He was weeping.”
