Complete Short Fiction (Jerry eBooks)

by James H. Schmitz

  Telzey hesitated, said. “I seemed to be there, for just a few moments. He looked scared to death, and I was wondering if he could see me.”

  “He saw something,” the detective said, “and he’s described it. The description fits you. The fellow hadn’t been told who the intended victim was, and up to that moment he hadn’t particularly cared. But his conclusion was that the accusing wraith of the person he’d just helped murder had appeared in the room. That left his nerves in pitiable condition, I’m happy to say, and has made him very easy to handle.

  “On the other hand, of course, this experience again limits his usefulness to us. We don’t want him to talk about it, because we don’t want to start speculations about you personally.”

  “No, I see.”

  “I’m assuming,” Dasinger went on, “that it was also a rather unusual experience as far as you were concerned. If you could do that kind of thing regularly, you obviously wouldn’t need assistance in solving Miss Lodis’ problems.”

  Telzey hesitated. It seemed to her there had been, in that instant, a completely improbable combination of factors, resulting in something like a psychic explosion. The fury pouring out of the dog’s mind might have set it off; and she’d been simply involved in it then, doing what she urgently wished to do, hut not at all controlling the fact that she was doing it, or how it was done.

  It had worked out very well; Gonwil and some other people and Chomir would be dead now if it hadn’t happened in just that way. But she wasn’t eager for another experience of the kind. The next time it might as easily work out very badly.

  She explained it to Dasinger as well as she could. He listened attentively, frowning now and then. At last, he said, “Perhaps you’d better look over the report on Mrs. Parlin’s assassin. Then I’ll explain what the situation seems to be now’.”

  Whether or not she’d actually gone to Beale in any physical sense during those few seconds, she hadn’t relaxed her mental hold on Chomir while she was doing it. And while that had saved lives, it had one drawback. When someone finally poured a stunblast into the big dog, the connection between them was strong enough to transmit echoes of the pounding shock to her brain. It knocked her out, but since she hadn’t absorbed the stunner physically the Kyth operatives brought her around again within minutes.

  Then, after she’d barely finished giving them the description of the man in Beale, along with the information that Pehanron College could be seen at a certain angle, roughly five miles away, from the window of the room he was in, some well-meaning character slipped her a sedative in a glass of water without stopping to inquire whether she wanted one. Conceivably, she appeared a little feverish and wild-eyed, as who wouldn’t, under such circumstances? At any rate, she was unconscious again before she knew what had occurred.

  The next time she awoke, eighteen hours had passed and she was in one of the cabins of the spacecruiser maintained by the Bank of Rienne for Gilas Amberdon’s use. They were in space, though not far from Orado: she was in bed, and a large woman in a nurse’s uniform was sitting next to the bed. The large woman informed her firmly that she would remain in bed until Mr. Amberdon’s physician had come out from the planet to examine her again. Telzey, with equal firmness, dismissed the nurse from the cabin, got dressed, and went out to learn what had taken place meanwhile.

  In the passage she encountered Dasinger, looking harried. The Kyth chief told her Gilas and Gonwil were in the communications cabin, involved in a ship-to-planet conference with Rienne’s legal department, and offered to bring her up to date.

  It appeared that the Kyth operatives dispatched to Beale early yesterday to look for Chomir’s menacing stranger had picked up their quarry very shortly after receiving Telzey’s description of him and of the area where he could be found. It had been a lucky break; he was on his way to the nearest spaceport by then. They learned his name was Vingarran, that he was a native of Askanam where he had some reputation as a trainer of arena animals; and that he had received an extremely attractive financial offer to come to Orado and apply for work in a high-priced veterinarian establishment in the town of Beale, where he presently would carry out a specific assignment. The vet’s was the place where Gonwil left Chomir regularly for his checkup and shots.

  In due time, acting on instructions, Vingarran drugged the big dog and planted a device in his brain, of a type sometimes used on Askanam fighting animals when the betting was heavy. Essentially, it was a telecontrolled miniature instrument which produced at will anything from a brief surge of anger to sustained insane fury. Animals so manipulated rarely lost a fight in which they were otherwise evenly matched, and cheating was almost impossible to prove because the instrument dissolved itself after fulfilling its function, leaving only microscopic scars in the brain tissue. After arousing Chomir from his drugged sleep, Vingarran tested his device and found it in good working order.

  Some months passed without further action. Then Vingarran received instructions to check the dog’s response again at the first available opportunity. He had done this from an aircar while Gonwil and Chomir were on one of their customary hikes in the hills. Following his report that the dog had reacted satisfactorily to minimum stimulus, he was told to wait for a signal which would be his cue to employ the instrument at full output for a period of five minutes, after which it was to be destroyed in the usual manner. This would conclude the services for which he had been hired.

  Vingarran had no real doubt that at least one person would be slaughtered by the white hound during those five minutes, that this was calculated murder. But he was being paid well enough to tell himself that what happened when he pushed down the control plunger was not his responsibility but that of his employers. And a few hours later, he would be on his way back to Askanam, and need never hear what the result of his action had been.

  The vendettist scare at the Tayun Consulate followed. Professionally, Dasinger regarded it as an unnecessary touch; the authorities investigating Gonwil’s death were certain to conclude that her giant pet had gone berserk and destroyed her with the savagery that could be expected of a fierce fighting breed. But the Parlins evidently preferred to have an alternate explanation ready if there were any questions. When Junior established that Gonwil was for the moment alone in a locked room with the dog, the signal was flashed to Vingarran to carry out his orders.

  It was a complete picture, except for the unfortunate fact mentioned by Dasinger: the man from Askanam simply did not have the faintest notion who had hired him or from what source his pay had come. He did not know the Parlins, had never seen one of them or heard their voices. He had been told what to do through the impersonal medium of a telewriter. The Kyth Agency would keep him under wraps; but there seemed to be no practical possibility of using him as a witness.

  Telzey asked, “Does Malrue know it didn’t work . . . that Gonwil didn’t get killed or hurt?”

  “She knows she couldn’t have been hurt seriously enough to incapacitate her,” Dasinger said. “She also knows we’re aware it was attempted murder, and who was behind it.”

  “Oh . . . how did she find out?”

  “Indirectly, from us. It couldn’t very well be avoided. Miss Lodis responded in a very level-headed manner after the situation had been explained to her and she was over the first feeling of shock about it. Junior’s call immediately before the dog’s attack fitted in too well with the rest of it to let her retain doubts about Mrs. Parlin’s guilt. She agreed at once to apply to become the legal ward of the Bank of Rienne. That made it possible for us to act freely on her behalf; but when her guardians on Tayun were notified of the move, it told them, of course, that Mrs. Parlin’s plans had miscarried and that they themselves were suspected of complicity. They must have warned the Parlins immediately.”

  “They didn’t argue about the bank becoming Gonwil’s guardian?” Telzey asked.

  “No. The thing had come into the open, and they realized it. Which is why we’re in space. It’s one way to make
sure Miss Lodis is safe for the moment.”

  Telzey had a sinking feeling. “For the moment? You don’t think the Parlins might give up?”

  The detective shook his head. “Not after what we’ve learned about Mrs. Parlin. She’s playing for high stakes here. She’s planned for years to get Miss Lodis’ share in the company in her hands, and she won’t stop now simply because it can’t be done quietly any more. It’s reasonable to suppose she won’t be involved in future murder attempts herself, since that might get her into trouble. But all she has to do is set a high enough price on your friend’s head to attract professional sharpshooters. From now on, that’s what we’ll have to look for.”

  “But then . . .” Telzey paused. “Then what are we going to do?”

  “At present,” Dasinger said, “the matter is in the hands of Rienne’s attorneys. They’ll investigate all legal possibilities. That may take some days. That the Parlins are anticipating moves in that area is indicated by the fact that they’re assembled a legal staff of their own. But I don’t think they’re greatly worried by that approach.”

  He considered, added, “We’ll see what develops. I haven’t, of course, suggested to Miss Lodis that we might turn the situation into a registered private war. She’s still pretty badly shaken up by the treachery of the Parlin family, and particularly of Mrs. Parlin.”

  “You’re waiting to let her find out there’s nothing else she can do?” Telzey asked.

  “Perhaps I am,” Wellan Dasinger answered thoughtfully.

  Telzey shook her head.

  “She still won’t do it,” she said. “Not if it means killing Malrue Parlin.”

  “It would mean that,” Dasinger said. “We might simply frighten the lady into backing off. But it wouldn’t settle anything. Miss Lodis would never be safe from her again. Unless, of course, she simply turned her stock over to Mrs. Parlin, on Mrs. Parlin’s terms.”

  “She’d sooner do that,” Telzey said. Her skin was crawling.

  “Would you like to see it happen?”

  “No,” Telzey admitted.

  “Well, let’s let it rest there,” Dasinger said. “The lawyers may come up with something. Incidentally, you might see what you can do about Chomir, Miss Amberdon. He’s in rather bad shape.”

  “I thought he was all right again!” Telzey said, startled.

  “Oh. the stunner didn’t harm him, of course. I’ll take you there, and we’ll see what you think. If it weren’t ridiculous, I’d say he was suffering from a psychotic collapse, brought on by guilt. When Miss Lodis tries to talk to him, he looks away and pretends she isn’t there.”

  Dasinger’s diagnosis was accurate enough. Telzey found Chomir lost in a black stew of despondency. His memory of what had occurred after the rage stimulus began to blaze through his brain was a horrid muddle of impressions; but he knew the evil stranger had been nearby in his insubstantial way, and that he, Chomir, had done dreadful things. And the stranger had again escaped. Chomir felt miserably unable to face Gonwil.

  It might be possible actually to delete unpleasant memories from a mind, but Telzey hadn’t found out how to do it. However, it wasn’t difficult to blur out some remembered event until it was barely discernible, and then to shift over other little chunks of memory and imagination from here and there and work them together until, so far as the owner of the mind was concerned, a completely new memory had been created in place of the obscured one.

  After about an hour and a half, Chomir wasn’t even aware that he had been glooming about something a short while ago. When Gonwil showed up, having heard that Telzey had awakened and was with the dog, he was plainly back to normal behavior.

  Other problems, unfortunately, weren’t going to be as simple to solve. Gonwil felt that after the first round of conferences with the Bank of Rienne’s legal department the lawyers’ initial attitude of cautious optimism was beginning to fade. The possibility of bringing charges against the Parlin family in Federation court had been ruled out almost at once. A conviction could be obtained against Vingarran; but not, while their mind blocks protected them from subjective probes, against the Parlins. And there was, of course, no point in prosecuting Vingarran alone. It would be preferable to leave the Parlins unaware for the present of what had happened to their hireling from Askanam.

  Rienne’s attorneys regarded the prospects of a Transcluster Finance ethics hearing as somewhat more promising, though one would have to give detailed consideration to the evidence which might be presented for verification before forming a definite conclusion. If it could be shown in an ethics hearing that the Parlins had planned the murder of a business associate for profit, the results would be almost as satisfactory as a court conviction. Transcluster’s adjudicators could not route them through Rehabilitation, but they could order the confiscation of their holdings in Lodis Associates and block them for life from again playing an open role in the Hub’s financial world.

  The alternative—not infrequently chosen in such cases—was voluntary Rehabilitation. Rienne’s attorneys hoped that some connection could be established between the Parlin family and the death of various other members of Lodis Associates who had been known to be in opposition to them. Added to evidence obtained from the attempted murder of Gonwil Lodis, it might give them a case, though a most difficult one to prepare. The Verifier gave no consideration to probabilities and did not evaluate evidence aside from reporting that the mental information made available to it had showed a specific claim to be true or false, or had failed to show either its truth or falsity. Any facts obtained must, therefore, be carefully arranged into a pattern which would condemn the Parlins when confirmed by the mind machine. And that would take time.

  The truth of the matter probably was, Telzey thought, that a Verifier or its operators were capable of sizing up the merits of a case almost as soon as an ethics hearing began—if her calculations about the function and potential of the Psychology Service’s machines had come anywhere near the mark. But in dealing with them it could make no practical difference, because they wouldn’t admit to seeing more than they were supposed to see, even if it meant letting a hearing end in favor of someone like Malrue Parlin. Of course, they couldn’t have maintained their big secret otherwise. But it seemed very unlikely that the lawyers were going to dig up something in Malrule’s past which could coax a damaging report out of the machine. Malrue would have been as cautious about leaving no direct evidence of earlier murderous activities as she had been in her plans for Gonwil.

  The lawyers obviously weren’t counting on it either. Another matter they would investigate was the possibility of breaking the clause which effectively prevented Gonwil from selling her stock in Lodis Associates to anyone but another associate. If the Bank of Rienne acquired the stock, it would put an end to Malrue’s maneuverings. At the moment, however, it looked as if six or eight years of wrangling in Tayun courts might be required to force a favorable decision on the point.

  All in all, Telzey reflected, Dasinger’s pessimism was beginning to appear justified. And the mere fact that they were at present confined to the spacecruiser was an intimation of what it could be like to live for years on guard against some unknown assassin’s stroke, or hiding somewhere, shut off from normal existence. Dasinger might, as a matter of fact, have arranged the temporary retreat from Orado in part to demonstrate just that.

  When they gathered for dinner, she learned that Pehanron College, after being privately briefed by Rienne officials on the current state of affairs, had sent word it was co-operating by placing both Gonwil and Telzey on technical sick leave for as long as might be necessary.

  That seemed somehow the most decisive move of the day.

  After dinner, she retired early to her cabin. It was possible, as Dasinger had suggested, that the attorneys would still come up with a practical solution. But one clearly couldn’t depend on it.

  She sent out a thread of thought for Chomir, located him in the cruiser’s lounge with Gonwil and Gilas, and
slipped back into his mind. It was as easy now as walking into a house to which one owned the key. When ship-night was sounded an hour or so later, she was with him as he followed Gonwil to her cabin. And quite a little later again, she knew Gonwil finally had found troubled sleep.

  Telzey withdrew from Chomir and put out the drifting telepathic probe which by and by would touch one of Gonwil’s sleeping thoughts and through it establish the first insubstantial bridge between their minds. Then, in a day or two, she would be in control of Gonwil’s mental activities, in the same unsuspected and untraceable way and as completely, as she was of Chomir’s.

  She felt uncomfortable about it. It hadn’t disturbed her at all to tap the minds of strangers, just to see what was in there and to experiment a little. Intruding on the private thoughts of a friend, secretly and uninvited, somehow seemed a very different matter.

  But the way things appeared to be going made it necessary now.

  It was a week before the subject of registering for a private war came up again; and now it wasn’t Dasinger’s suggestion. The bank’s attorneys recommended the move, though with obvious reluctance, to Gilas and Gonwil, as an apparently necessary one if Mrs. Parlin’s designs on Gonwil’s share in Lodis Associates were to be checked.

  By then, nobody, including Gonwil, was really surprised to hear it. It had been a frustrating week for the legal staff. While they felt they weren’t at the end of their resources, it was clear that Malrue Parlin had been prepared for years to face a day of reckoning. The investigators on Tayun reported many suspicious circumstances about her activities, but produced no scrap of evidence to connect the Parlins to them. Malrue had few allies with whom she had worked directly; and all of them had protected themselves as carefully as she did.