Black Point Clan

by Pam Uphoff

  Whipper disagreed. "I think the women just ignored him, and he rested up in the middle of the party."

  "Ah, but did you see him resting up?"

  Uncertain head shakes.

  "All right. I need you guys to go bar hopping. Brag about your Uncle Ajki, and see if anyone mentions seeing him out drinking that night."

  "Bar hopping. Cousin, I could get to liking this investigation stuff. You're paying, right?" Mushy was perking back up.

  Ajha handed over a cash card. They trooped off to gleefully spend every credit of it. Did he need to double check Aunt Zowm's household? Not really. Whipper and Mushy simply weren't assassin material. What about his grandfather's? He knew everyone; Grandfather had a chauffeur, a cook and three maids to keep up with the oversized museum he lived in alone. Father travelled with a Ministry Guard detachment, generally an officer and four men. His personal secretary and another flunky who spent most of his time talking to the Paris office and making sure the Ax got the information he needed and wasn't bothered by anything else. He'd never married after divorcing Kiaj, Ajha had heard the usual rumors about dates and mistresses, never laid eye on any such.

  He called the secretary. "Jason. Ajha. I'm arranging my schedule; if my father wants me present for anything I'd appreciate knowing about it in advance."

  The man's infuriating upper class Parisian drawl came back quickly. "We have you tentatively penciled in for a reception on the opening day. Tomorrow."

  "And tentatively penciled out if that would be more politic?"

  "Of course. Eleven, after the opening speeches."

  "Right." One! Who'd have thought I'd ever want to be on casual dropping in basis with my own father?

  He gave up and flipped on the big vid and requested the news, from the top.

  The President was giving out prizes for a science contest.

  The Council was arguing about how much money they could spend to annihilate Comet Fall.

  Poppy and Krazy stuck their heads in, and then joined him.

  The Philosopher of the One was recommending calm and prayer before battle.

  The First Alternate Philosopher was suggesting that they needed to understand the Comet Fall Gods before they attacked, and if they were too strong, isolate the world instead of attacking.

  Ajki wandered in and sat with a huff. "You know him, don't you Ajha?"

  "Yeah. He used to be even scarier. How many alternate philosophies do we have now? Three?"

  "Not yet. When the third one appears, the One will have to consider a Great Debate."

  Another Priest suggested that they should cut all ties with the Embassy network, and depend only on Gates they made themselves.

  "He's a follower of the Second Alternate Philosopher."

  A spokesperson for the Council suggested that the One needed to add some Priests and Princesses with economic training before starting a war.

  "Maybe that's the third one."

  "Too sensible." Ajki snorted.

  "Right. So The Philosopher is an Aggressive Expansionist. The First Alternate is a Wary Expansionist. The Second Alternate is an Isolationist. I think Fiscally Sensible would be just fine for the last one, myself."

  "There's a reason I send you across so often, for so long."

  "And I really appreciate it, Uncle Boss."

  A ten-year-old girl with a suitcase held off an Action Team for three hours until it was determined the suitcase contained only dolls and doll clothing.

  "Better recruit her." Ajha murmured.

  Ajki glared. "And assign her to your team, tamer of the Fiend?"

  "I didn't tame her. I befriended her."

  "Tamed. She's polite to complete strangers now. Until they piss her off."

  The drought in southern Patagonia was being illegally relieved by corridoring water from the flood stage Mississippi. Ecologists were having fits. The Farmer's Combine of lower Patagonia was denying all knowledge of the water transfer. While diverting it into their extensive irrigation network.

  Ajki scratched his chin. "Damn. Never thought of using corridors for that. But how did they transport a corridor?"

  "Stuck to a piece of paper, folded up in a pocket, while they took a plane to wherever they're picking up the water." Ajha grinned. "Leaving the other end in Patagonia, of course."

  His uncle turned a glower his direction.

  "They aren't three dimensional things. There's no drag, inertia, weight, mass, or momentum. One Membrane I visited has a corridor to the Moon. Inside a pressurized dome, of course."

  The Director turned away from a fire on the screen. "I heard about that. Sounds insane. What about the Earth rotating every day? Doesn't that mess it up?"

  "Yeah. They replace it every three months or so. They've got one on the way to Mars. It connects to a whopper of an airlock on the Moon, in a special isolated dome."

  "Whopper? Where did that come from?"

  "One of the twenty-first century Earths. Something to do with oversized cheap meals."

  "One! I should stick you in an office to renormalize for a year or three." He turned back to watch the World weather forecast.

  Ajha sniffed. "I'd just contaminate everyone else with strange ideas and vocabulary."

  Restless, he prowled the house, then out to the street. He hiked out to the steep main street and took the tram down to the end of the run, walked across the small prairie to the bluffs and watched the ocean waves for awhile. Pretty and peaceful, but it doesn't help me figure out what the Greater Game is. Father has no real interest in the Patriarchy. Arlw is a rival in power, in competition with him for the leadership of the War Party. Does Father think the Patriarchy would allow Arlw to overshadow him? Or . . . who threw his hat in the ring first? Is Father luring Arlw into a time consuming commitment that will reduce his threat in Paris, in the future? He couldn't help but smile a bit as he realized he couldn't see his father being lured. He turned and walked back to the town streets. And pretended he didn't see the two cops keeping him in sight.

  There was a note from the Fiend on his mini-comp. "Questions are being asked about you. Need details?"

  He tapped back a brief reply. "No. I'm currently enjoying the experience of being the prime suspect in a murder investigation. Quite entertaining. I'm trying to solve it before the cops."

  He was propped up against the wall in a crowded coffee shop when he spotted Xiat and her local investigator pulling up. Xiat scanned the shop and spotted him watching her. She crooked a finger. He eased through the crush and joined her on the sidewalk.

  "We'd like you to come down to the station and answer some questions. Why are you grinning?"

  "That was just like in the vids. I feel like I should swagger and leer. By all means. Let's adjourn to the police station."

  She opened the back door of a black car and closed it. Not at all chauffeur-like. He'd have to analyze how she managed that. Dominant body language, probably.

  The first person to ask him a question was a Newsie who sprinted up as Xiat let him out.

  "Ajha Clostuone, how does being arrested mesh with your pacifist standing as regards the Fallen?"

  "Oh, they aren't arresting me." Ajha stood solidly and refused to budge at Xiat's expert attempt to unbalance him into motion. "I'm sure they'll figure out who did it quickly enough. Now, If I had killed Udzi—which I didn't—now that would indeed conflict with my personal philosophy of mutual benefit, universal trade, and not being the stupid bully."

  "Then what is this about?"

  "No doubt they are hoping to settle the matter before the Convention, which will be a big enough fuss without an unsolved murder hanging about."

  The investigator interposed his bulk and chivvied the Newsie away. Ajha moved a split second before Xiat's next attempt to budge him. She staggered a bit and growled under her breath as she followed him through the door.

  "Very funny. What was that about?"

  Ajha cocked his head at her. "Surely you know?"

  "You were trying to look
innocent to the public."

  "There. See? You didn't even need to ask." He allowed himself to smile faintly. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and not assume that you set that up on purpose to make me look guilty, allowing you to close the case and look good, over my dead body."

  "I am not interested in looking good." Her voice went icy. "I am interested in finding out who killed Udzi Withione."

  "Excellent. In that case, I will help you all I can."

  The investigator led them to a small bare room. A table, two chairs. All moderately worn and battered. "Where were you, the night of the ninth?"

  "As I told you, I sat out on the patio, and fell asleep."

  "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

  "Well, I could lie and come up with something more dramatic, but really, I think I'm better off just sticking to the truth."

  "We can hang you on that."

  "Behead. Murder is a beheading offense. I'd simply appeal to the One, and the charges would be dropped. I did not kill Udzi Withione, nor anyone else, that night nor any other recently."

  "Recently? Who did you kill, not recently?"

  "I was active in the information acquisition phase of the assault on Helios and during the battle. Since the assault, I've been on their colony planet, involved with the retrieval of our captives. I have yet to bother asking a name when I had to kill one of them. I suppose it's been six months now, since I've killed anyone."

  They frowned at him.

  "How many people did you kill?"

  "I lost track in the actual war part, it got a bit hairy. I'd guess a couple dozen. After, on a one-by-one basis, eight. As the leader, giving commands to my team? Hundreds. We . . . twice encountered infantry units while departing with rescuees. And killed them in large numbers. I hope we didn’t get into thousands killed, but I don’t actually know."

  He watched them trying to digest that.

  "So, I'm sorry if I seem a bit under-threatened, here, but, well." He shrugged.

  Xiat pulled out her comm and poked at it. "Director? I'm sorry to bother you." She put a convincing laugh in her voice, a dimple showing as she smiled. "But is Ajha some sort of war hero, killing Helaos by the dozens or hundreds, or can I beat him up as a fraud?"

  She listened for a long moment, sobering. "Thank you." She eyed Ajha in frustration. "Infiltrated behind enemy lines and held a merge center for half an hour until help could get there. Saved about a thousand students' lives. Medals and decorations. Then you went back and hunted down several hundred more, with a lot of blood shed. Almost all theirs."

  "That isn't going to really help you, in this case." The investigator said. "A jury would simply take it as proof that you will kill when you feel it is necessary."

  "I'd argue that it shows that I consider a threat to an innocent person's life enough reason to kill. Removing one of three rivals in a rather meaningless election that my father is using as a Game point? Not even close."

  "Do you think this is just a game to your father?"

  "A game that he takes seriously. In my opinion, yes. He has not said nor hinted of such, it is only my opinion."

  "Does he want to win enough to kill for it?" The investigator leaned on the wall, unblinking eyes on Ajha.

  "If you want to understand how the Game is played at that level, you should shorten your question. Does he want to win?"

  Xiat's eyes narrowed.

  The investigator frowned. "All I ever see is the carousel of marriages and the Servaone women trying to move up. And the wreckage they both leave behind. I figure you're part of that wreckage. Your father dumps you, is ashamed of you, your mother blames you for her lack of marriageability, no women are interested in a Clostuone unless he's filthy rich. So here's your opportunity. Finally you can do something to make your father notice you. Maybe he'll even be proud of you. Find a spot in his Department for you."

  Ajha sighed. "I've seen the wreckage, too. You think Clostuones have it bad? Talk to a Servaone sometime.

  “All the women are so busy doing their duty for the One and collecting a tidy stipend to start up a business . . . maybe by the time they have two or three children they'll consider a Servaone husband. And maybe even have one of his children.

  “But, to their shock and surprise, the Servaone men are already happily married to a Multitude or Halfer, raising families and working.

  “I've been across and seen other ways of doing things. Some better, some worse. The better ones seem to involve long term single partner marriages. It all depends on the definition of better. And you're also right about my poor relationship with my father. But I'm not fool enough to think that a man who can watch me being given multiple medals while calculating the worth in Game points, is going to suddenly change into a warm loving Dad, no matter what I do. It just isn't something he's any good at, and I'd hate to try and estimate how much practice it would take to make him good at it. And I'm neither stupid enough, twisted enough or insane enough to think that he would thank me for committing a murder."

  Xiat was still staring at the far wall. "I was a bit surprised when he accepted the nomination. He hasn't the time for it. And then Arlw jumped in, with a vengeance. If Arlw wins, he'll be leaking time and energy this direction. Slowly and constantly."

  Ajha nodded. "That was my thinking. Anytime he looks to be gaining in the Game in Paris, a small kerfuffle here, and points are lost as he scoots out of town to deal with it. Over and over. I figure father is aiming at a Presidential run in either two or seven years. But that's just my analysis."

  "Two years might be a bit soon." Xiat frowned at him. "Of course, the campaigning starts a year ahead of the actual election.

  The investigator swapped his gaze between them. "Are you saying this is all Presidential politics?"

  "Not the murder." Ajha leaned back in his chair. "Probably. Probably the murder was committed by someone who really wants to be the Patriarch. Or hated Udzi and figured the race and the hordes of people in town would be a good screen. But there's also the possibility that—because of the coincidence with a time when I lacked an alibi—it could be an attempt to foul my father's reputation. Again, Paris politics, although whether the instigator is thinking of the presidency is unknown."

  "So, how much does the Patriarchy mean to Ozji and Arlw? Only Arlw would care about bringing down the Ax, in Paris. I can't fit Ozji into that motive." Xiat drummed her fingers on the table.

  "Let's be more practical." The investigator peeled himself off the wall and sat down. Elbows on the table, he steepled his fingers and studied Ajha. "Opportunity and method?"

  Ajha looked at Xiat. "Dinner on the ninth. I understand that Arja looked for me in my room, returned to say I wasn't there, and made a quick comm call before entering the dining room."

  "I don't know about a call. But he did walk in a bit late, when he ought to have been with the rest of us."

  "So he calls the professional assassin who was standing by. 'Do it now, Ajha's fast asleep and everyone thinks he's missing.' And there you go."

  "And the assassin?"

  "Well. That's the problem. Is it someone in our little circle, or someone unknown to us. I don't have the resources to check on people." Ajha shrugged. "Over to you."

  The investigator looked disgusted. "Why would Arja help kill Udzi? He's married into an alliance with the Ax, right?"

  "Right. For direct points, or to be a well placed spy? Bringing down the Ax would be good for lots of points."

  "A spy for Arlw?"

  Ajha shrugged. "It's all speculation. Criminal investigation isn't my specialty. But I know the difference between speculation and evidence. We seem very short on the latter."

  "Yes." The investigator frowned at him. "Thank you for your assistance, Info Leader. Do you need a ride home?"

  "No thank you. I'd as soon walk."

  "And talk to any Newsies you happen to find?"

  "Yes. That too."

  As he walked away he heard the investigator mutter some
thing about ". . . was that the most dangerous man I ever let walk out of . . . "

  He barely got his grin under control as he looked for the newsies.

  That was quite easy, in fact. They were waiting for him. Or more likely an announcement of his arrest.

  "Info Leader, why have you been released?"

  "Released? No, no, it wasn't anything so serious. The police are still in the early stages of the investigation, still interviewing people and collecting evidence. Although it would be handy if they could solve the murder quickly, so we could get our minds back to the conference."

  "But why did they arrest you in the street?"

  "Arrest? Don't be silly. That involves handcuffs and body searches and reading of rights and calling of lawyers and all that. I know you'd like something dramatic, sorry. They wanted to ask me about . . . well. I suppose I'd better not say. Don't want to step on the official investigation."

  It was like waving a bone at a dog.

  They all wanted to know what the police had, what evidence, what it had to do with him. He trailed newsies all the way up the hill—he walked, best way to lose out-of-shape newsies ever. He spotted his escorting police hopping the tram, and getting out one and two roads ahead. Unfortunately the Newsies thought of that too. He cut over to the boarding stable, was told all the rental horses were reserved, and in fact, gone at the moment. He looked around at the winter damp ground and the quagmire of what was usually a practice ring, and took himself off. He backtracked through the newsies, caught a tram up the hill and made it into his mother's house without having to slam the door in anyone's face.

  ***

  "The most dangerous man? Possibly, sir. Question is, is he guilty of murder? And I just can't tell. It sounds like, from his experiences, that he won't crack under pressure." Xiat brought up her file on Arlw.

  "Unless he's completely lost it, possibly something messed up by the Fallen magic." The investigator shook his head. "A professional assassin? The sword work was a bit dramatic, but it was certainly a deliberate killing. Left handed, but what fencer hasn't tried fencing with his off hand? The bodysuit and chemicals, professional. One. Bloody. Hell. We're stretched, with this conference. I can't put people on every damned suspect."