by Ben Bova
NINE
DAN’S DREAMS THAT night were filled not with memories of Saito but with strange shifting apparitions of Jane Scanwell and Lucita, his ex-wife, and other women he had known. He woke before sunrise, sitting up in his Western bed, beaded with sweat, an oppressive sense of doom weighing down on him. “Sai’s not really dead,” he muttered to himself as he stumbled through the dark bedroom toward the toilet. “They could revive him tomorrow if they wanted to.” Yeah, maybe, a voice inside his head replied. If they don’t kill him all over again in the thawing procedure. After a quick shower and a decision that he could skip shaving, Dan strapped on his wristwatch and checked the time in Paris . A little after eight in the evening. He used the phone by the bed to put through a call to Jane. She was not at home, her answering machine said, but all messages would be forwarded to her hourly. Must be in some double-damned GEC meeting, Dan grumbled to himself. He spoke into the phone, “Jane, it’s you-know-who. I’ll be there in twelve hours or so, unless I hear from you. Bye.” Then he pulled on a pair of slacks and a loose velour shirt, trying to remember exactly where the kitchen was. He always got a kick out of shocking the servants by getting his own breakfast. Jane Scanwell was in her office, poring over the reports and memoranda that she never seemed to have the time to read during the nominal working day. You either have to be an early bird or a night owl, she told herself. The only way to get any real work done is to do it when nobody else is around to bother you. Once the regular working hours begin it’s nothing but meetings and conferences and phone calls all the blessed day long. Phone calls. Her computer scrolled all her incoming messages at the top of every hour. And there was a message from Dan, finally. Still being cute, signing it “You-know-who.” It infuriated her. According to the computer the call had originated in Japan . Lord knows where Dan really is. He’s as devious as a used-car salesman. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Close to midnight . Where is Dan? What’s he doing? And will he really be at Tetiaroa in twelve hours or less? She found that she almost wished he wouldn’t be. She felt disappointed at that. But not surprised. It was well past midnight when Rafaelo Gaetano returned to his apartment on the Boulevard Saint Germain. Even before he switched on the lights he sensed that someone was already in the apartment. Then his conscious mind realized that there was a faint trace of a woman’s perfume: not the expensive kind that was meant to be seductive, this was more like a simple floral aroma. There was no concierge in the building. That function had been taken over by electronics ages ago. So Gaetano silently flicked his fingertips across the security keypad next to the door, guided only by the crack of light from the hallway coming through the nearly closed front door. The pad’s little screen lit up with a numeral one, and a time: 11:48 . Gaetano silently closed the door and smiled to himself. He knew who his visitor was. Or at least, who it should be. Either way, he tiptoed across the thick carpeting to the window that overlooked the street. Plenty of traffic out there, although the double-paned glass effectively soundproofed the apartment. Slowly, quietly, he closed the blinds, then tapped on the side panel of the window frame in his private code. The panel slid open noiselessly. Gaetano reached in and curled his fingers around the waiting nine-millimeter Beretta. Silently, like a commando or a hired assassin, he made his way to the bedroom. The door was half open. She was already in his bed, probably asleep. Grinning, he put the gun down on the easy chair by the doorway and swiftly stripped down to his briefs. Then, armed and ready, he stepped into the bedroom and switched on the lights. Katherine Williams blinked in the sudden glare and sat up in the bed, her flame red hair tumbling over her bare shoulders, the sheet slipping down from her breasts. “Hands up, thief!” Gaetano said. She frowned at him. “For lord’s sake, Rafe, I’m in no mood for your silly damned games.” He leveled the gun at her. “I said hands up!” She sighed and raised her hands over her head. The sheet slipped further down, to her hips. “Caught you trying to burglarize my apartment,” he said, grinning. “Now, should I call the police, or are you willing to make amends?” “What do you want, a blow job?” His grin widened. “That would be nice. For a start.” An hour later he was lying on his back in the darkened bedroom and Kate was saying: “...so I left Alphonsus right after he did and came straight here. But I felt so damned tired in this gravity that I had to go to bed.” “A good place for you to be,” Gaetano murmured. “Good for you.” “You didn’t enjoy yourself?” She did not answer. “Those screams of ecstasy were faked? You should be an actress, then, not a lawyer.” “A lawyer has to be a good actress, sometimes.” “Come on now, you had a good time, didn’t you? Didn’t you?” In the shadowy lighting from the room’s curtained window, she could not make out the expression on his face. But she heard the anxiety in his voice, and she knew that she did not want to make him unhappy with her. “I wasn’t acting,” she lied. “You know I couldn’t do that. And I don’t have to. Not with you.” “Am I as good as Dan Randolph?” Gaetano asked. She shrugged her naked shoulders. “I don’t know. I’ve never been to bed with him.” “Never?” “He’s never pushed it that far.” “But he has a reputation.” “I think he’s getting too old for his reputation.” “Really?” “He’s never done anything more than make jokes to me.” Gaetano fell silent. Then, “Do you think he suspects you?” “No way. He fell for the Mitchell acquisition without a quaver.” “Malik thinks it was all his idea. He thinks you’re working for him.” Kate said, “I am. And for you.” “For me,” he said sharply. “You work for Malik only because I want you to.” “Right. I know that.” “How is your sister?” he asked, maliciously. “She’s almost through rehab. She’s been clean for six months now.” “It will be difficult for her to find employment, you know, with her record.” Kate snarled to herself, I know, you olive-oil bastard. I know! “I will help you there, as well,” Gaetano went on. “We can be of great help to one another.” Bitterly, she replied, “Maybe we ought to get married, then, if we’re so damned helpful to each other.” Even in the darkness she could see his eyes go round. “Married?” Then he laughed, loud and so hard that he ended up coughing. Cough your lungs out, bastard. You and your Russian friend, both. But she knew that she was tied to this man and his schemes. There was no way out; each step she took to help him gain more power tied her to him all the closer. Christ on the cross, we might as well be married, she thought. I hate him enough to be.
TEN
TO HIS SURPRISE, Dan found Nobuhiko already in the silent kitchen of the Yamagata house, sitting alone at the table closest to the big walk-in freezer. A bowl of cereal and fruit stood in front of him, next to a steaming mug of tea. He was wearing a white shirt and a tie of deep blue with the inevitable white herons on it. His suit jacket was neatly folded over the back of the chair beside him. Business costume, Dan knew. He’s the head of the company now; probably going to Tokyo to meet with his board of directors. “You’re up early,” Dan said. “You too.” “I need to charter a plane.” “I’ll get you one of the company’s planes. Where are you going?” “Tetiaroa. It’s a coral atoll near Tahiti .” Nobuhiko’s brows rose a fraction of a millimeter. “A romantic tryst?” With a displeased shake of his head, Dan replied, “I’m in no mood for romance right now.” “Ah, yes.” Nobo took a crunching spoonful of his cereal while Dan followed the aroma to the automatic coffee maker that had been set up the night before. “Did you sleep well?” Nobo asked as Dan poured himself a cup. “So-so. How about you?” “Hardly a wink. I feel as if a great weight has been hung on my shoulders.” Dan slid into the chair opposite his young friend’s. “It has. You’ve got the responsibility for the entire Yamagata empire now.” Nobo looked as if he wanted to say something, but stopped himself. Finally he asked, “Don’t you want something more than coffee?” “I’ll find something. Smoked salmon, maybe.” “In the freezer, I think. I doubt that there are any bagels, though.” He can make a joke, Dan thought. A weak one, but at least he’s trying. That’s a good sign. He got up from the table and rummaged through the floor-to-ceil
ing cupboards, the big restaurant-sized refrigerators and finally the walk-in freezer. When he returned to the table, Dan was carrying a tray laden with smoked salmon, cream cheese, a tin of caviar, a handful of thin crisp biscuits, a large glass of grapefruit juice and the entire pot of coffee. Nobo’s bowl was empty, his tea mug half drained. The younger man was plainly unhappy, and making no attempt to hide it. “Anything I can help with?” Dan asked as he sat down again. After a moment’s hesitation, Nobo replied, “Yes. There is.” “Tell me.” Dan slathered cream cheese on one of the crackers. “Your fusion fuel operation.” Surprised, Dan asked, “What about it?” as he forked a thin layer of pink salmon onto the cream cheese. “It’s going to cut into our solar power sales. You’re going to be competing against us.” The brittle cracker snapped in Dan’s hand. “Damn!” Crumbs and gobs of cheese and salmon spattered over his dish, the table, his slacks. “I’ve upset you,” Nobo said. “No, I’m just too double-damned clumsy.” Dan brushed at his slacks. “I don’t see fusion power competing against the solar satellites. They should complement each other.” “Our marketing department believes otherwise. Already, projected sales for solar power are showing a slight downward trend, for the first time since we built the original sunsat.” Dan took a deep breath. “Look, Nobo, it’s only natural for people making long-term energy commitments to hedge their bets when something as revolutionary as fusion power comes on the scene.” “Fusion power has been available for more than a decade. It was never a threat to our sunsats because it was much more expensive. But now, with helium-three from your lunar mining coming on-stream, the new fusion power plants will undercut the price of solar power.” “Hey, I’m your partner on the sunsats, remember? If any throats get cut, mine will be one of them.” “But you own the entire fusion fuel operation.” “You want to buy in? I’ll sell you as big a share of the helium-three business as I own of your sunsats. Okay?” Nobuhiko closed his eyes and bowed his head, as if deep in contemplation. Dan watched him, thinking, It’s less than ten hours since Sai was put away and already he’s acting like a captain of industry. Good for you, Nobo! “If current projections are accurate,” Nobuhiko said at last, “the long-range trend will be for the world to move toward fusion power and away from power delivered by solar satellites. That will be very bad for Yamagata Industries.” “Then buy into fusion,” Dan urged. “Do it now, while the price is still reasonable.” “Eventually,” Nobo continued as if he had not heard Dan’s words, “solar power satellites will find no markets on Earth. Fusion generators, fueled with helium-three from the Moon, will effectively take the entire market for large central-station electrical power production.” Dan waited several heartbeats to make certain Nobo had finished his little speech. He saw that his young friend was trying to keep his face impassive; the result of his effort was something like a scowl. Leaning his elbows in the mess on the tabletop and hunching toward Nobo, Dan said, “Listen for a minute. It’s always a mistake to try to hold on to a market in the face of radical changes. I think your marketing analysis is probably pretty close to being accurate: fusion power will eventually drive out solar power. Not the small-scale kind of solar, private homes covering their roofs with solar voltaic cells. Not that kind of thing. But the big multi-gigawatt sunsats—yes, cheap fusion power will take away their existing markets.” Nobo took in a deep breath. Before he could say anything, Dan went on, “The smart thing to do, in such a situation, is to buy into the innovative technology that will eventually take away your existing market. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. Your father understood that.” The young man’s eyes blinked rapidly, several times. “I am not my father,” he said flatly. Dumb mistake, Dan told himself. Never throw the old man at the son. That’s stupid. “The fact remains,” Nobo said, “that your fusion fuel operation will be competing against our sunsats for some time to come.” “Then buy in!” “Why should I have to spend capital that we could use to develop other new industries to buy into your operation?” “What alternative do you suggest?” Dan asked. “Limit your sales of fusion fuel.” “What?” “Limit the sales. You have a monopoly on the mining and processing of lunar helium-three. Limit sales and you will drive up the price. That will give you a higher profit margin.” Dan could not believe what he was hearing. “Nobo, I’ve got a monopoly because I’m producing helium-three cheaper than anybody else can. If I start cutting down on production, everybody and his brother will jump into the game!” “It will take them years to get into the market.” “The years fly by, pal.” “If you agree to limit production we can work out market shares, divided between sunsats and fusion generators.” “That’s conspiracy in restraint of trade! The GEC would be all over us in ten minutes!” “My lawyers assure me ...” “Your lawyers are full of shit if they’re telling you we can carve up the energy market between us without the GEC slapping us both in jail!” “We can handle the GEC.” “And rain makes applesauce.” “You would have made such an arrangement with my father!” That stunned Dan into silence. “Wouldn’t you?” Nobo demanded. Dan had no reply. “You don’t wish to make such an arrangement with Yamagata Industries now that I am at its head?” “Nobo, I can’t.” “Then you have decided to try to drive us out of the energy business.” “No! Not at all! I’m offering you a share of the fusion operation. And you ought to get your marketing people to start looking at how the sunsats can be used to deliver power to other space facilities. Hell, you could beam power all the way out to the asteroid belt if you wanted to.” “There is nothing in the asteroid belt that needs gigawatts of power.” “But there will be! Things don’t stand still, Nobo. Don’t try to freeze everything in place. You’ll get swamped by the changes that can’t be stopped.” “Stop lecturing me. I’m not a child.” “Double-damn it to hell and back, Nobo. You’re taking this personally. It’s not personal; it’s business!” The younger man got to his feet and reached for his suit jacket. “You must pardon me. I am to chair the board meeting in Tokyo this morning. I will leave word to make a plane available for your flight to Tahiti .” “Tetiaroa,” Dan corrected glumly. “Wherever. Goodbye.” Nobuhiko left without a bow, without a handshake, clearly furious and not even trying to hide his emotions. Dan stood at the table, thinking, great way to start the day. I’ve just made an enemy out of my old friend’s son. Jane had not slept well, either. She suppressed the memory of her dreams, recalling only vague images of scenes from her childhood, and of Morgan, her dead husband. I pushed him into politics, Jane said to herself as she showered. I made him president. I killed him. But not before Morgan himself had killed the love that they had shared. I pushed him into politics, but I didn’t force him to take up with those other women: groupies, power-hungry bitches who slept with the high and the mighty regardless of who they might be. Then her anger dissolved as she realized that it was indeed truly her fault, all of it was her own fault. If she had let Morgan alone, allowed him to live the quiet obscure life he had originally wanted, he would be alive today and he would still love no one but her. But would I love him? Jane asked herself as she dressed. Did I ever really love him? Or did I merely see in Morgan a man who could be guided to greatness? Maybe I was his original groupie. Until I met Dan. With an effort of steel-hard will Jane shut off her thoughts. I have a job to do, and I’m going to do it. She had her limousine drive her to Orly , where she boarded the Air France flight for Papeete . The hypersonic jet would whisk her to Tahiti in just over two hours. There a chartered plane waited to fly her to Tetiaroa. And there, Dan Randolph would be waiting. Maybe. With a start, she realized that she had not told Vasily Malik that she was on her way to rendezvous with Dan. I could call him from here in the plane, she thought, before the re-entry blackout. Or at the airport in Papeete . Or, better yet, I’ll wait until I actually see Dan on Tetiaroa. Yes, she said to herself. I’ll wait. It will be better to make certain he’s really there before I tell Vasily the good news.