The Complete LaNague

by F. Paul Wilson

  Proska reeled backward and slammed his palms over his eyes. His mouth opened to scream but no sound came forth as he toppled to the floor and lay flat on his back, unconscious.

  Jo suddenly was aware of her body again. Her arms, legs, and torso were hers once more, but the legs wouldn’t support her. Her knees buckled and she hit the floor. Consciousness began to slip away, but before it was completely gone, she saw a hooded, blue-skinned head poke inside the door and peer about the room.

  WHEN JO NEXT OPENED her eyes, she found herself looking into the face of the night nurse. It took a few heartbeats to orient herself, then she looked across the floor to where she had last seen Proska. He was gone. So was her blaster.

  “Where is he?” she asked, raising herself to a crouching position.

  “Where is who?”

  “That man! The one who was on the floor over there!”

  The nurse smiled. “I’m afraid you might be just a little bit overtired, dear. You should take better care of yourself. You might have been lying on the floor here half the night if Mr. Easly hadn’t buzzed.”

  “Larry!” Jo cried, leaping to her feet.

  Larry Easly lay quietly in bed, his hands folded on his chest, a tired smile on his face.

  “Hi, Jo.”

  Relief and reaction flooded through Jo as she crossed to the side of his bed and grasped both his hands. There were tears on her cheeks… for the second time in seventeen years, she cried. It was a joy to see Larry conscious again, to see life in his eyes and hear his voice. But there was something else… mingling in the relief was a curious, unfamiliar lightness of spirit, as if she had been purged of all doubt and grief and fear. She felt reborn, released from the past.

  Except for Old Pete. That reckoning was still to come.

  “I’ll leave you two alone a minute,” the nurse said, “then he’s got to go to neuro for retesting.” She closed the door behind her.

  “I’m okay, Jo,” Larry said in a faint voice. “Just weak. So weak, it was all I could do to press the buzzer when I came to and saw you lying on the floor.”

  Jo’s head snapped up. “Did you see anyone else on the floor?”

  “No. Who do you mean?”

  “Proska.”

  Larry’s eyes widened. “You know about him?”

  “He was here! He tried to do to me what he did to my father and almost did to you.” She hesitated. “Were you in… limbo all this time?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head vigorously. “But I know what you mean. A Vanek explained to me what Proska could do. No, I was unconscious. I don’t remember a thing between the booth and this room. But where is he?”

  “I don’t know. Something happened when he tried to do whatever it is he does, and we both collapsed. He was on the floor last time I saw him.” She glanced at the wall clock. “And that was two hours ago!”

  “Well, I’ve only been conscious for about a quarter hour and he wasn’t here when I came to.” He tried to lift his head but the effort was too much. “That means he’s free. Jo, we’ve got to get off Jebinose. Proska is the most dangerous man alive! I can’t walk yet, but I’ll go on a stretcher!”

  The nurse returned then. “Time to go. The neuro crew’s waiting for you.”

  “The only place I’m going is deep space!” Larry said with what little vehemence he could muster.

  Ignoring him, the nurse flipped open the top of a small console at the foot of the bed. “You’re going to neuro. Doctor’s orders. Besides, you’re too weak to go anywhere else.” She tapped in a three-digit combination, then closed the console cover.

  The bed began to roll toward the door and Larry looked around helplessly.

  “Jo?”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll wait for you here.” She was not looking at Larry anymore. Her eyes were riveted on a figure standing in the shadows out in the hall.

  When the bed had disappeared down the hallway to the left with the nurse in tow, Jo went and sat in the chair by the window.

  Old Pete entered. Jo’s blaster was in his right hand and he crossed the room and laid it on the night table beside her.

  “You won’t be needing this,” he said.

  “You sure?” Jo’s voice was flat, hard. Her eyes were on the wall.

  “Proska is dead. He will probably be found shortly after sunrise in the park across the street. His hands and feet have been tied to a tree; the top of his skull has been removed and his brain has been smashed at his feet.”

  Jo looked at Old Pete’s face and saw in it a sense of infinite satisfaction. “You?”

  He shook his head. “No. The Vanek. They removed him shortly after he passed out here and then Rmrl came to my hotel room. He returned your blaster and led me out to view their handiwork.”

  “But I thought the Vanek never took any initiative – never acted on their own or anyone’s behalf.”

  “They don’t. Or at least they didn’t until now.” He took a deep breath and shivered. “For beginners, they sure don’t fool around.”

  “How do the Vanek know you?”

  “I met Rmrl seventeen years ago when I was looking into Junior’s death.”

  “Is he the one with the blue spot on his forehead?”

  Old Pete nodded. “He’s the one who delivered the coup de grace on your father and he’s been waiting in silence all those years for the Great Wheel to turn full circle and exact its vengeance on Proska. Your arrival prompted him into action. He was no longer a typical Vanek after his close association with Junior Finch, and when word of your arrival spread among the Vanek–”

  “How did they know who I was?”

  He avoided Jo’s eyes. “They… knew. And Rmrl was determined to prevent the same thing that happened to Junior from happening to you. So he and a few of his friends decided to take Proska out of the picture, permanently. He had to die… there was no other way to handle him.”

  “I hope they catch up to deBloise, too!”

  “They have no quarrel with him.”

  “They should – Proska told me that he went after my father at deBloise’s direction.”

  Old Pete’s voice was a whisper. “Then it’s true!”

  “What…?”

  “It’s true! DeBloise is involved. I’ve had that feeling in my gut for seventeen years and could never prove a thing! That’s why I’ve kept such close surveillance on him all this time!”

  “And what about Proska?”

  “Never knew he existed until this morning when Rmrl told me all about him and showed me his remains.”

  A long silence. When Jo finally broke it, her voice was low but carried a sharp edge.

  “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

  “It’s true.”

  She rose slowly to her feet and faced him. She wanted to believe it. She wanted everything over and done with and settled so she could get on with her life. But there were still too many dark areas concerning the old man.

  She spoke the question that had hovered unasked between them since Old Pete entered the room.

  “Why are you here?”

  “On Jebinose? I came to see if I could help Larry. After all, I’ve been here before and–”

  “Lie! You came here to cover something up – or to make sure it stayed covered. What is it?”

  “Nothing!” He spoke the word without conviction, as if he knew he would not be believed.

  “Another lie! The only connection between you and Jebinose is my father – and he’s dead. You’re somehow involved in that and I want to know how!”

  “Never! I’d never do anything to hurt Junior. How can you say that?”

  “The Vanek told me, ‘He will not harm you again.’ Did he mean you?”

  “No! He meant Proska!”

  “Impossible! Proska didn’t even know I existed until tonight. How could he hurt me ‘again’?”

  Old Pete blanched and said nothing.

  Turning to the night table, Jo picked up the blaster and
pointed it at the old man’s head.

  “Tell me now or I swear by all I believe in I’ll burn a hole in you! What was your involvement in my father’s death?”

  Her eyes told him that she was not bluffing. She had tasted vengeance tonight and was not going to stop until all accounts were settled. Old Pete began to tremble. He found a seat by the far wall and slowly lowered himself into it. Looking up, he held Jo’s angry glare and spoke in a dry, cracked whisper.

  “Junior Finch isn’t dead and he wasn’t your father.”

  The words lay on the air like dead fish on a stagnant pond. Finally, Jo shook her head as if to clear it.

  “What are you saying?” She was nearly insane with rage. “Do you think you can get yourself out of this by concocting some wild–”

  “It’s true! Junior Finch was completely sterile as a result of the radiation leak that almost killed him when he was eighteen. He didn’t produce a single gamete from then on. The histology report on the genitourinary system in the autopsy reconfirmed this, and I paid an ungodly sum to have that part wiped.”

  Jo’s finger tightened on the blaster trigger. “But you said he isn’t dead! How can you have an autopsy report on a man who isn’t dead?”

  Old Pete held up his hands. He was tired, defeated, and more than a little frightened by what he saw in Jo’s eyes.

  “Just let me continue. When your grandfather found out Junior was sterile, he was crushed. It meant there’d be no Finch beyond Junior to carry IBA into the future. That was important to him. He set great store by family – didn’t start one till late in life, but once he had one, it became the prime focus of his life. Junior was one child, IBA another. He wanted them both to go on forever. Me, I couldn’t care less.”

  “Get to the point.”

  “I am: your grandfather – a most persuasive man – talked Junior and his wife into cloning a child from Junior. I helped them arrange it.” He paused. Then, regretfully: “You are that child.”

  “But I’m female. Junior Finch was male.” The blaster did not waver. “A clone is an exact genetic duplicate.”

  “Surely you know that a female can be cloned from a male. All that needs to be done is to discard the Y chromosome and duplicate the already existing X. That’s basic genetics. They decided on a female clone to head off any possible future suspicions. A male would grow up to look exactly like its donor, and if anyone ever raised the question, it would take only a simple chromosome test to put Junior in jail and you in a molecular dissociation chamber. There are laws against clones, remember? A female was safer.”

  Jo lowered the blaster. She believed him. The same instinct that had told her he was lying before, now told her that Old Pete was telling the truth. And it fit. It explained a number of things, especially the awe she seemed to inspire in the Vanek – they had recognized her for what she was.

  Jo was inspiring a little awe in herself right now. She should be reeling, numb, crushed, shattered. But she wasn’t. She felt strangely aloof from the revelation, as if Old Pete were talking about someone else.

  “I’ve kept this from you all along,” he was saying. “I never wanted you to know. When I went, I was going to take it with me since Junior’s death left me the only one alive who knew. Even the technicians who did the cloning never knew whose cells they were working with.”

  “Why would you keep that from me?”

  “Because I didn’t see any purpose being served by telling you that you’re not a real person under the law. I didn’t know how you’d react to being a clone… that knowledge could destroy someone. Don’t you see? Junior Finch isn’t dead. He’s you – and you’re Junior Finch.”

  Jo answered without hesitation, her voice tranquil and full of confidence. “No. I’m Josephine Finch. I always have been and always will be. Junior Finch lies buried out there. Josephine Finch will go on living as she always has – as Josephine Finch.”

  It was a declaration of identity that brought Old Pete to his feet and made his face light with relief. Jo knew who she was and intended to remain who she was, no matter what her origins. He stepped toward her, falteringly, until he stood before her.

  Placing his arms on her shoulders, he said, “I’m proud of you… Josephine.”

  She dropped the blaster and hugged him. She wanted to speak, wanted to tell him how glad she was that his only crime was trying to protect her, but her larynx was frozen. She could only squeeze his thin old body very hard.

  Old Pete understood and held her until his arms ached. Then he pushed her to arm’s length.

  “Can we be friends now?”

  Jo nodded, smiled, then began to laugh. Old Pete joined her and only the return of Larry and his bed prevented them from breaking into tears.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked. His voice sounded stronger than before. “And what are you doing here, Pete?”

  Jo waited until the bed had moved back into its old position, then sat on it next to Larry.

  “He came to see if we needed any help,” she said with a smile.

  “Well, we do. We’ve got to put some distance between Proska and us–”

  “No,” she said. “He’s dead. The Vanek killed him.” She then went on to tell Larry and Old Pete about Proska’s blackmail scheme against deBloise.

  “What a totally vile, amoral character!” Old Pete said when she was finished.

  “Almost as bad as deBloise,” Jo replied coldly. “He sent Proska to Danzer, then used my dead father’s name to further his filthy career.”

  She realized she still thought of Junior Finch as her father, and no doubt always would. And someday, she would explain it all to Larry. But now was certainly not the time.

  “But, Jo,” Larry said. “A Vanek committed the actual murder.”

  “He did the right thing.” Her voice was soft now. “I’d want the same for myself… you don’t know what it was like. The Vanek did the right thing for Proska, too. But the deBloise account stays open.”

  “He’s not even on Jebinose,” Old Pete said. “Left for Fed Central yesterday. I heard it on the vid while I was getting dressed earlier.”

  “DeBloise is finished already,” Larry said. “At least he is if what Proska told you about the recording is true.”

  “It’s true. There was no reason for him to lie to me. He said the original would go to the Federation ethics committee if ‘anything suspicious’ happened to him. When the news of his death is released, I’m sure the person to whom he entrusted the recording will find the circumstances sufficiently suspicious to warrant its forwarding to the committee.” Her smile was grim. “It should arrive within the next standard day. And that should put an end to deBloise’s career.”

  “Well, that’s fine,” Old Pete observed testily, “and it’s well deserved, and it’s about time. But it doesn’t do anything for the purpose for which we all became involved in this mess. What’s there to keep the rest of the Restructurists from carrying through with the Haas plan, whatever it is?”

  “That may not be a problem any more,” Jo said, her smile brightening. “I’ll know for sure after I make a single call.”

  She went to the vidphone by the bed and asked to be connected with the Jebinose brokerage house, galactic stocks division.

  “At this hour of the morning?” Larry asked.

  Old Pete explained: “The Galactic Board never closes, Larry; and on a sparsely populated planet like Jebinose, there’s usually only one office dealing with galactic stocks. So, to take orders from all over the planet, they have to stay open ’round the clock. The younger brokers usually get stuck with the night watch.”

  “But what’s all this got to do with deBloise and Haas?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea,” Old Pete said with a shrug.

  “You will,” Jo said as she waited for a connection. “I’ll explain it all just as soon as I get a few quotes.”

  A youngish male face appeared on the screen. “Galactic stocks division,” he muttered wearily.

>   “Good morning,” Jo said with as much pleasantness as she could muster. “I’ve decided to buy stock in a couple of companies and would like to know the current selling price.”

  “Surely. Which ones are you interested in?”

  “Fairleigh and Opsal.”

  The broker’s hand had been reaching for the computer terminal built into his desktop with the intention of punching in the company names. Jo’s words arrested the motion. He smiled wanly. “You and everybody else.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that it seems like half of Occupied Space wants to buy shares in those two companies. I’ve been trying to beam in a bid all night and I can’t even get through!”

  “Why the sudden interest?”

  “It started as an unsubstantiated report by one of the news services that Fairleigh had tapped a lode of natural Leason crystals and that Opsal would soon be coming out with the most revolutionary antibiotic since penicillin. When the companies confirmed, the Galactic Board began to go crazy. Everybody wants to get in on the ground floor. Let’s face it, Fairleigh will be able to cut its production costs by a half – it’s going to have the peristellar drive field pretty much to itself for a while. And Opsal’s new product is going to make hundreds of other antibiotics obsolete.”

  “May I leave a buy order with you?”

  “Yes,” he sighed, “but I don’t think I’ll be able to do anything for you until the stocks split – which I expect to happen any minute.”

  “How about Teblinko?”

  “Down. Way down.”

  “And Stardrive?”

  “Same story. A lot of people are trying to dump their Stardrive and Teblinko for Fairleigh and Opsal. As a matter of fact, the whole Star Ways family is being hurt by this. Now, how many shares did you want to–”

  “Thank you,” Jo interjected with a pleased smile. “You’ve been most helpful.” She abruptly broke the connection and the broker’s startled visage faded from the screen.