Hellflower (1957)

by George O. Smith

  And that was that. Farradyne retracted the ramp, closed the spacelock and not long afterwards hiked the ship into the sky and headed for Mercury.

  7

  Cinnabar was inside the sunlight zone by a thousand miles and its sun was always in the same spot of the sky. It was a well-contrived city, built so that the streets were lighted either directly or by reflections. Cinnabar was also one of the show-cities of the system, but Farradyne found that it did not show him the right things. He could have learned as much about hellflowers on Terra merely because New York had a larger public library.

  He tried everything he could think of but made no progress. His trail had turned to ice after Cahill’s death. He loafed and he poked his nose in here and there and drank a bit and varied his routine from man-about-town to the spaceman concerned about his future. There was only one bright spot— his listing had been tentatively taken up by a group of schoolteachers on a sabbatical, who had seen Mercury and now wanted a cheap trip to Pluto.

  Farradyne had accepted this job for about three weeks later. It gave him a payload to Pluto, and when he got there it would be time to do the subcontracting job Clevis had set up as a combined source of revenue and a means of contact. Once each month Farradyne was to haul a shipment of refined thorium ore from Pluto to Terra, a private job that paid well. In the meantime Farradyne could nose around Mercury to see what he could see. Then he could haul his schoolteachers to Pluto and pick up his thorium, which definitely made his actions look reasonably normal to the official eye.

  On the end of the drums of semi-refined thorium there would be a spot of fluorescent paint, normally invisible. He was to wash off this spot so long as he had nothing to report. If it remained, then something was wrong with Farradyne; he had not turned up or he had something to report. Clevis would know what to do next And so Farradyne watched the date grow closer and closer and his hopes of having something to report grow less and less likely. He felt as though he had been given up, in fact he got to the point where he wondered how a man could get a love lotus if he wanted one. The prevalence of the dope seemed high enough, but as far as Farradyne was concerned it was harder than buying a real gold brick. There did not seem to be any for sale. He thought that perhaps his method of attack was wrong, and yet he did not know how to correct it.

  He cursed under his breath at the futility of it, and realized that his curse must have been audible because he felt a touch on his elbow and a voice asking, “Is it that bad?”

  He turned slowly, his mind working fast to think of something to say that would not be leading in the wrong direction. “I was—” he started, and then he saw that the voice which had been low-pitched enough to have been the voice of a man had come from the throat of a tall, dark-haired woman who sat beside him at the bar. “Just wondering what strangers do for excitement on Mercury,” he finished lamely.

  “Spaceman?”

  “Yes.”

  “I guessed it.” She laughed in her low contralto. “But spacemen aren’t the only ones who drink that watered-down whiskey.”

  “I know. But this time it is one.”

  She smiled again. “Is Cinnabar so inhospitable?” she asked. “To strangers it seems so.”

  “To me it seems quite normal. It makes the rest of the solar system sound like a very exciting place.”

  “Born on Mercury?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I was born on Venus. I spent four years on Terra before my folks brought me to Mercury. But my last space trip took place when I was nine. Tell me, what is New York like?”

  “Buildings and people and mad rushing around. Any change in the last hundred years has been for taller buildings, more people and a higher velocity of humanity. But anybody can find anything he wants somewhere in New York, if he has the money to buy it.”

  She smiled calmly. “I’ll show you that Cinnabar is not an inhospitable place,” she said. “You may take me to dinner if you wish.”

  “I wish,” he chuckled. “And since we haven’t a mutual friend to introduce us, I’m Charles Farradyne.”

  “How do you do?” she said solemnly, putting a lithe hand in his. “I’m Carolyn Niles.” She took a little step out from the bar and made him a slight curtsey. He saw that she was almost as tall as he was, and he grinned as he thought that her figure was far better than his.

  “How shall we meet?” he asked.

  “We shall not meet,” said Carolyn. “We shall play it very bright and very interesting. You shall drive me home where we will have cocktails with my folks and you will meet them. You will be an old friend of Michael’s, who is a sort of school-chum of my brother. After cocktails I will run upstairs to change and you will make polite conversation with my family—none of whom eat personable young men, though they may scare them to death by having Father show them the fine collection of Terran shotguns he owns. Then we will go out to your spacecraft, and you will change while I roam around and investigate the insides. This I will like because it’s been some time since I have seen the insides of a spacer.”

  “Done,” agreed Farradyne.

  Something rapped him on the elbow and he had to look down before he saw a boy of ten or so with a green-paper lined box containing flowers. The young merchant had an eye for business; he eyed Farradyne knowingly and smiled at Carolyn fetchingly. “Corsage? One dollar.”

  Farradyne grinned and then almost recoiled before he realized that nowhere in the solar system could a love lotus be purchased for a dollar. These were definitely gardenias. He bought one to cover up his confusion, and handed it to Carolyn. She pinned the gardenia in her dark hair as she smiled her thanks, then led him from the bar to an open roadster almost as low and long as the curb it was parked against. Carolyn handed him her keys and Farradyne drove according to her directions until they came to a rather large rambling house just outside the city limits.

  She introduced him, and he was received graciously. Her father was a tall, distinguished man with a dab of gray at the temples and a rather stern face that became completely un-stern whenever he smiled, which was frequently. Carolyn’s mother was tall and dark with only a sprinkle of gray. The brother was not present, which made it completely easy for Farradyne who could not have given any account of his friendship for the unknown Michael, stated friend of Robert Niks.

  Mr. Niles mixed a pitcher of martinis and inquired about the spaceman business. Farradyne explained how it was. Mrs. Niles laughed at his story of fish one day and fins the next and said that she thought it couldn’t be quite that bad, really. Farradyne grinned. Mr. Niles observed that a man who can operate a spacer and pay off a mortgage on the craft must not be entirely penniless or without prospects.

  Mrs. Niles countered with, “I suppose it takes money to operate, Mr. Farradyne.”

  “A fair amount. A spaceman begins to think in large figures so much that he wonders how he can get along on a more humanly reasonable amount. To clear a reasonable standard of living, a rather staggering amount of money comes in one hand and goes out the other. Operating expenses are high, but so are charges.”

  “But do you land on Mercury often, Mr. Farradyne?”

  Farradyne smiled. “Perhaps less frequently in the past than in the future.”

  “Now that’s sheer flattery,” laughed Carolyn.

  “Better enjoy it,” observed her father with a chuckle. “Charles, you are welcome here any time you land.”

  “Thank you,” smiled Farradyne. “But all things considered, I should think that you’d take a dim view of any man that brought your daughter home wearing a gardenia.”

  “Gardenia? Oh. You mean that it might be—” Mr. Niles laughed. “I think that Carolyn has enough judgment to take up with the right kind of young man, Charles.”

  “Of course,” said Mrs. Niles. “Robert and Michael wouldn’t stay friends with the wrong kind.”

  “So you see?” laughed Mr. Niles.

  “By the way,” asked Mrs. Niles. “How is Michael?”

&n
bsp; “Quite well, the last time I saw him,” said Farradyne, quite sure that this was the right thing to say at any time.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m very happy to hear it,” said Mrs. Niles. “We knew he was with you, but we didn’t know how long he stayed.”

  Farradyne gulped imperceptibly, and he hoped that they did not notice. “You did? Then he must have mentioned me.”

  “Oh, he did. Tell me, Charles, what happened to Michael?”

  “Did something happen to him?”

  Mr. Niles eyed Farradyne rather pointedly. “Mike took off with you from Mars. He did not land at Denver, Mr. Farradyne. So what happened to Mike Cahill?”

  Farradyne gulped, and this time it was a full-throated gulp that left him with his Adam’s apple high in his throat.

  Carolyn cooed, “Yes, Charles, what happened to Michael Cahill?”

  A shiver crossed Farradyne’s nerves and he felt the muscle-loosening tingle of fear. His thinking mechanism stopped functioning. His mind buzzed with a frenetic insistence that he say something, but he was completely unprepared. And he dimly knew that his long speechlessness was as damning as any story he could have prepared after such a pause. He thought all the way around in a circle, coming back to the fact that he should say something but that his mind was so busy insisting that he fill in this bizarre event that it did not furnish him with anything to say.

  Then it occurred to him that he need not say anything. The die had been cast and he stood accused, twice; once by the Niles family and once by his own shocked reaction. What he must do was act for the next moment because the passed moment was irreparable. One of two things was evident: either Cahill was a double-dealing rat or the man was hand in glove with the Niles and that meant—

  Farradyne laughed at his own simplicity. It was a sort of brief, scornful bark.

  “What is funny?” asked Mr. Niles.

  “It just occurred to me—the brilliant concept that you people are either innocent or guilty.”

  “Very sage,” commented Niles drily. “You don’t seem quite that bright, Mr. Farradyne. Not even that bright. Now, what happened to Cahill?”

  Only for a fleeting moment did Farradyne follow the possibility that Niles was innocent. There had been no attempt on Cahill’s part to contact anybody from the time Farradyne met him until he saw him last alive. Ergo, the Niles must have been forearmed with Cahill’s plan. This was the place that Cahill would have brought him; it had just taken him a bit longer to get here without the proper guide.

  He leaned back, trying to relax. He took a sip of his martini, not that he wanted it, but to see if his hand were still trembling. It did not seem to shake.

  He said, “If you knew Cahill and his whereabouts, you also know quite a bit about me. You’ll have heard that I was recognized in a bar on Ganymede by a woman named Norma Hannon, who is a hellflower addict. She hated my guts because I am Charles Farradyne and her brother was among those present when I had the accident in The Bog. She hung onto me for the emotional ride it gave her. I succeeded in locating the home of her parents and was going to take her home when I met Cahill, who offered to come along after a bit of talk. Then during the night, Cahill made a pass at Norma, and she shot him. I put his body out through the scuttle port.”

  “Cahill was always a damned fool,” nodded Niles. “He was a dame-crazy idiot and it served him right. Some men prefer money, power or model railroads. Women are poison.”

  “I seem to have followed one of them like a little lamb,” said Farradyne. “But I was picked up and brought here for a purpose, so let’s get down to cases.”

  “You’re a rather quick-on-the-trigger man, aren’t you? What makes you assume that this purpose was anything beyond finding out about Cahill?”

  “Because you have tipped your hand,” said Farradyne feeling more at ease. “You could have accomplished the same thing by tipping the police and waiting for the case to be newscast. If Cahill admitted to hellflower running, it was for a purpose, too. I call the same logic in you, Niles.”

  “Please. Mister Niles. I’m a bit your senior.”

  “All right. Mr. Niles. I’ve learned one thing so far: I can tell a love lotus operator from the rest of the system.”

  “How?” They all leaned forward eagerly.

  “Because it is the real operators that take an amused view of my alleged machinations. They know the facts.”

  “Very sage. You are a bit brighter than you appeared a moment ago.”

  “May I ask why you let me cool my heels for almost a month before you hauled me in?” He looked at Carolyn with a wry smile. “I would make a mild bet you weren’t more than a few hundred feet from me all the while?”

  “You are a blind man, Farradyne,” she said calmly.

  Mr. Niles smiled knowingly. “There are a lot of unexplained items in your past, Farradyne. We never could be too sure that you were not a Sandman. Of course, it does seem a bit hard to believe that a government operative would crash a spacer and kill thirty-three people just to establish a bad reputation, especially when his own neck was involved in the affair. Still, such a deal might have been managed. So we have been checking on you and from that angle you are clean. Then comes the question of Cahill. It might be that you thought turning in a hellflower operator would help to smooth your lot in life, mayhap get you a bit of a reward. So we waited. No Cahill. Cahill started to bring you here; he would either have turned up with or without you. Or he would have gotten in touch with us. Unless Cahill was dead. You would know the answer. Norma Hannon is keeping her mouth shut, SO far as we know. Of course no One would believe a blank anyway, and she probably knows that. So it stands to reason that you know more about Cahill than anybody else.”

  “No more than I’ve told you. Cahill came and made me a sort of sidelong offer.”

  “That much of it rings as true as the other. But there are still holes in your story.”

  Farradyne nodded. “Let’s put it this way: there are ways of getting money and things. I found one way, which is an obvious fact. But I have been told time and again that the entering wedge to a full confession is a willingness to talk. Do you follow me?”

  “I do. But—”

  Farradyne smiled. “I don’t care to face it. Not in company, Mr. Niles.” Farradyne’s emphasis on the “Mister” was heavy with sarcasm. Niles looked at him piercingly.

  “You are a bit belligerent and a trifle sure of yourself. Close-mouthed and apparently able to get along. You’ll be out on a lonely limb for some time, Farradyne, but we can use you.”

  “I can use the sugar,” said Farradyne.

  “Naturally. Anybody can use money. In fact everybody needs money. What visible means of support have you?”

  “I’ve a subcontract. Once each month I’m to lug a load of thorium refines from Pluto to Terra.”

  “It’s a start but it isn’t enough.”

  “I’ll pick up more, doubtless.”

  Niles leaned back and put the tips of his fingers together pontifically. “One of the hardest jobs in this business is to justify your standard of living. The financial rewards are large and the hours involved are small. It is patent that a man who has not been granted a large inheritance or perhaps stumbled on a lucrative asteroid, cannot live in a semi-royal manner without having to work in a semi-royal fury. One of the great risks in this business is the acceptance of a recruit whose appearance causes discussion. The day when a man can build a fifty-thousand-dollar home on a five-thousand-dollar salary without causing more than a raised eyebrow has gone. If a man has a hidden income, he must appear busy enough to warrant it—or at least provide a reasonable facsimile.”

  “This I can understand.”

  “For a job like this,” explained Niles, “we prefer the natural-born spaceman, with sand in his shoes or space dust in his eyes. Because the man with a bad case of wanderlust always looks busy even when he is idling. You seem to be that sort, but we never can
tell until it is tried. Unless, of course, you turn out to be woman-crazy.”

  “I’m a normal enough male,” said Farradyne. “I’ll remind you that Cahill was the guy that tried and failed.”

  “How normal are you?” demanded Niles. “We’d have less liking for a misogynist than for a satyr here.”

  Farradyne smiled serenely. “I have enough sense to keep my hands off Norma Hannon, but I have enough red blood to come home with Carolyn. That good enough?”

  Niles thought a moment. “Could be. Anyway we’ll find out. For one thing, Farradyne, you’ll be in no position to hurt anyone but yourself if you’re playing games. Once we’re really sure of you, if won’t matter any more because you will be in a position to get hurt plenty. We’ll try it, and see. Now, when do you go to Pluto?”

  “I’ve some schoolteachers to haul out there tomorrow. I’ve taken them on—”

  “Good. Gives you a good background without much labor. Now, when you land on Terra, you’ll not bother posting your ship for a job because you have already contracted for a job. Carolyn will be there on a business trip for me and will have chartered your ship for a hauling job back to Mercury. During this trip you will get some more details on how you are to operate. This much I can tell you now, Farradyne: you will be an in-betweener, in fact almost the operator you set yourself up to be. But with one difference, we’ll inform you just who is and who is not to be trusted. In other words, you’ll have your regular customers and you will sell to no one else. They’ll take your entire supply, pay for it and you will take your profit. The remainder you will use to purchase your supply from the upper source. Advancement may come slow or fast, depending on you. You’ll get the details later, as for now—” Niles leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Farradyne, you met my daughter in a cocktail lounge and several people heard the two of you planning an evening together. So you will go dancing and dining and have a drink or two and maybe a bit of lovemaking, which is an entirely natural performance. And from this moment you will be Charles and I shall be Mr. Niles and we’ll have no nonsense. Understand?”