“Manu did. He’s proof that the legends were true, Jon. He’s a seer.”
I stared at the boy, who continued to eat as if we weren’t there. I already knew the legends were true, because I was proof of it. I was born retarded, but Jennie not only fixed me, she made me somehow able to communicate on machine frequencies, see in the IR range, and control the nano-machines the Aggro scientists later injected into me. She’d told me that others with special powers existed, but she’d never provided specifics, and I’ve never met any of them. Though Jack’s story of Pinkelponker natives visiting other planets seemed reasonable enough-the wealthy of all worlds move around readily-I’d never heard it before. More importantly, with Jack I couldn’t trust anything to be the whole story. I needed to keep him talking and hope I could lure him into giving me more of the truth than he’d planned.
“I don’t buy it, Jack,” I said. “If the boy could see the future, he’d already be famous or rich-or the hidden property of some conglomerate. He sure wouldn’t be with you.”
Jack shook his head. “Wrong on all counts, Jon.” He held up his right hand and ticked off the points on his long, elegant fingers. “First, his powers don’t work reliably. I told you: he’s two generations away from the planet. He sees the future, but in visions whose subjects he can’t control. He doesn’t even know when they’ll hit him. Second, his parents, though not well off, aren’t stupid, so they’ve kept him hidden. Third, and this leads me to why I’m here, the visions damage him. In fact, without the right treatments to suppress them, and without continuing those treatments indefinitely, well,” he looked at the boy with what appeared to be genuine fondness and then stared at me, choosing his words carefully, “his body won’t be able to pay the bill his mind will incur.”
“You don’t need me to go to a med tech,” I said.
“Normal med techs can’t provide these treatments,” Jack said, “and those few that do offer them charge a great deal more than his parents can afford. The whole situation is also complicated by our need to keep Manu’s abilities quiet.”
“You said he’s with you, so why not just pay the bill yourself?”
“Alas, Jon,” he said with a wistful smile, “my own funds are inadequate to the task.”
“So you want to borrow the money from me?” I said. Jack and I had covered this ground before, after the second time I was stupid enough to grant him a loan, and he knew I’d vowed never to do it again.
He hadn’t forgotten: he waved his hands quickly and shook his head. “No, no, of course not. I’m simply helping Manu and his parents get the money. I’ve arranged a way, but it has,” he paused, giving the impression of searching for words I’m sure he’d already rehearsed, “an element of risk.”
I motioned him to continue and looked at Manu. The boy ate slowly and methodically, without pause, with the kind of determined focus common among those who never know how long it’ll be until their next meal.
“Pinkelponker is, as you might imagine, the object of considerable interest to certain mystic groups, as well as to many historians. One particular Pinkelponker fanatic, an extremely wealthy man named Manute Dougat, has set up a Pinkelponker research center and museum-almost a temple, really-near the ocean on the northern edge of downtown Eddy. Dougat’s interviewed every Pinkelponker survivor and survivor descendant he’s ever found. He claims to make all the recordings available in his institute, though,” Jack paused and stared off into space for a moment, “I suspect he’s the sort who’s held back anything of any serious potential value. What matters most is that he pays for the interviews. I’ve contacted him about Manu, and he’s offered to pay enough-just for an interview, no more-to keep the boy in treatments for a very long time.”
“So what’s the problem?” I said. “It sounds like you’ve found a way to get the money you need.”
“I don’t trust Dougat, Jon. He’s rich, which immediately makes him suspect. Worse, you can hear the fervor in his voice when he talks about Pinkelponker, and fanatics always scare me. When I told him about Manu’s visions, he sounded as if he were a Gatist with a chance to be the first to learn the secret of the jump gates. He’s not faking his interest, either. You know I’ve spent a lot of my life cultivating desire in marks and spotting when they were hooked; well, Dougat wants Manu badly, Jon, badly enough that I’m worried he might try to take the boy.”
“You’re asking me to provide protection?” I said.
“You and that battle wagon of yours,” Jack said quietly. “If I’m wrong about Dougat, this will cost you only a little time. If I’m right, though, then I’ll feel a lot better with you beside me. You know I’m no good at violence, and, as I recall, you are.”
Despite myself, I nodded. I don’t like violence; at least the part of me under my conscious control doesn’t like it, but the anger that’s more tightly bound into me than the nano-machines emerges all too readily. I tell myself I do everything reasonably possible to avoid fights, but all too often the jobs I take end up in conflict.
“You’ve already learned I’m a private courier,” I said. “If you and the boy want to go somewhere, and if you have the fare, I’ll treat you as a package and take you to your destination under my care. I’m no bodyguard, though”-I had no reason to assume Jack knew of the five years I’d spent being exactly that-“so I can’t help you with the meeting.”
“One day, Jon,” he said, “just one day. That’s all I need you for. We meet Dougat tomorrow at the Institute. I wanted a safe, public place, but he wouldn’t go anywhere he couldn’t control the security. We compromised on meeting in the open, on the grounds in front of his main building, where anyone passing by could see us. All I’m asking is that you come with us, watch our backs, and if things turn bad, take us out of there. That’s it.”
I knew Jack wouldn’t drop it until I’d found a way to say no that he understood, so I cut to the easiest escape route. “How much do you propose to pay me for this?” I said.
“Nothing.”
No answer he could have given would have surprised me more. Jack always came ready to any bargaining table. I fought to keep the surprise from showing on my face. It was the first thing he’d said that made me wonder if he might actually be straight for once.
“I don’t have any money to pay you,” he continued, “and I won’t make any from this meeting; everything Dougat pays goes to Manu. I’m doing it for him, and I’m asking you to do the same. With all the dicey business we’ve worked, wouldn’t you like to simply do some good now and again?”
The spark of trust Jack had created winked out as I realized there was no way he was doing something for nothing. “Why are you involved in all this, Jack? Skip the pitch and just tell me.”
Jack looked at Manu for a few seconds.
“I really am out to help Manu. His dad’s a friend, and I feel bad for the boy.” He straightened and a pained expression flickered on his face for an instant. “And, Earth’s greatest export has once again led me to a debt I must repay, this time to Manu’s father.”
“Poker,” I said, laughing. “A gambling debt?” Jack had always loved the game, and we’d played it both for pleasure and on the hustle, straight up and bent. I enjoyed it well enough, but I rarely sought it, and I could always walk away. For him, poker held a stronger attraction, one he frequently lost the will to fight.
“It was as sure a hand as I’ve ever seen, Jon,” he said, the excitement in his voice a force at the small table. Manu started at Jack’s tone but resumed eating when everything appeared to be okay. “Seven stud, three beautiful eights to greet me, the next card the fourth, and a world of opportunity spread before me. He caught the final two tens on the last two cards-cards he never should have paid to see. Unbelievable luck. A better player would have folded long before. I put everything into that pot. It was mine.” He paused for a few seconds, and when he continued he was back under control. “Honestly, Jon, I was willing to help Manu before that hand, but yes, losing it guaranteed my participation.”
“Your debt is not my problem, Jack.”
“I realize that, and I wouldn’t be asking you if I had an alternative. Unfortunately, I don’t. Dougat is the only option Manu’s father has found, I’m committed to help, and I don’t trust Dougat. I’ll go it alone if I must, and I’m confident I’ll walk away from the meeting, because I hold no interest for the man, but I fear-" he glanced down at Manu and then spoke quickly-“that I’ll exit alone.”
That Jack was in a bind was never news-he’d be in trouble as long as he lived-and my days of obligation to him were long over. I felt bad for the boy, worse than Jack could know because my inability to save Jennie has left me a soft touch for children in trouble, but I learned long ago that I can’t save them all. Worse, recent experience had taught me that trying to rescue even one of them could lead to the kind of trouble I was lucky to survive. If I wanted to avoid more danger, I not only needed to steer clear of Jack, I had to leave Mund soon, because I had to assume the same gate staff he’d bribed would be alerting others to my presence. Anyone willing to sell information for the sorts of fees Jack could afford would surely try to boost their profits by reselling that same data.
The only reasonable choice was to walk away now and leave the planet.
As much as I fought it, however, I knew I wouldn’t make that choice.
The problem was the Pinkelponker connection. Dougat’s research center might provide information I could use. If Manu really were a seer, he might be a source of useful data. I also had to determine whether Jack knew about or even suspected my ties to the planet, and, if he did, just what he’d learned.
Finally, I had to admit that because so many of the jobs I’ve taken have led to so much damage, the prospect of doing something genuinely good always appealed to me.
I stared into Jack’s eyes and tried to read him. He held my gaze, too good a salesman to look away or push harder when he knew the hook was in deep. Even as I looked at him I remembered how utterly pointless it was to search for the truth in his face. Jack excelled at close-up cons because at some level he always believed what he was selling, and so to marks he always appeared honest. The only way I could glean more information was to accrete it slowly by spending time with him.
When I glanced at Manu, I found him watching me expectantly, hopefully, as if he’d understood everything we’d discussed. Perhaps he had; Jack hadn’t tried very hard to obscure the topic.
I took a long, slow, deep breath, and then looked back at Jack. “I’ll help you,” I said, “for the boy’s sake.”
“Thank you, Jon,” he said.
“Thank you, sir,” Manu said, his voice wavering but clear. “I’m sorry for any trouble we’re causing you.”
Either Jack had coached the kid well, or the boy meant it. I decided to hope the sentiment was genuine.
“You’re welcome,” I said to Manu.
Jack caught the snub, of course, but he wisely chose to ignore it.
I now had a job to do and not enough prep time to do it right. We had to get to work. “Jack, you said the meeting was tomorrow, so our mission clock is much shorter than I’d like. Lay it out for me.”
****
The Pinkelponker Research Institute sprawled across the built-up northern border of Eddy like a fever dream. No signs warned that when you passed the last of the rows of permacrete corporate headquarters buildings you should expect something very different indeed. No lights, labels, tapestries, recordings, or welcome displays offered to explain it to you. In the middle of a five-hundred-meter-wide lot the gleaming black ziggurat simply commanded your eye to focus on the miniature of Pinkelponker that revolved slowly in the air a few meters above the building’s summit.
A perfect lawn the muted green of shallow seawater surrounded the building. Circular flower beds rich in soft browns, glowing yellows, and deepwater blues burst from the grass at apparently random locations all over the lot. Only when you viewed them from the air, as I had when Lobo and I had made our first recon pass after my lunch with Jack, did you realize that each grouping of plants effortlessly evoked an image of one of the many volcanic islands that were the only land masses on my birth planet. The ziggurat itself looked nothing like any of the individual islands I’d seen, yet its rounded edges and graceful ascent reminded me of home, made me ache for it.
I’d taken Lobo to a docking facility on the west side of town and hopped a cab from there. I’d changed cabs twice on the chance anyone had tracked me from the restaurant, but neither Lobo nor I spotted anyone following me. The last cab took me down the street that bordered the Institute on the ocean side, a wide avenue jammed with hover transports, cabs, and personal vehicles all rushing to and fro in the service of Eddy’s growing economy. The length of the crossing signal made it clear that city planners valued vehicles and commerce far more than pedestrians.
When I finally made it to the Institute’s ocean-side entrance, I found the overall effect far more entrancing than anything I’d anticipated from my aerial surveillance. I felt as if someone had sampled my memories and recombined them, managing in the process to create a setting that in no way resembled home but that at the same time rewarded every glance with the sense that, yes, this feels like Pinkelponker. Working in the grain fields under the bright sun, the constant ocean breeze cooling me, Jennie due to come to visit when her day was done-I drifted back involuntarily, my memories summoned by Dougat’s artful evocation.
I shut my eyes a
nd forced myself to focus on the job. It was a site I had to analyze, nothing more. Jack’s task was to keep Manu hidden until the meeting. Mine was to make sure we all got out safely if anything went wrong. To do that, I had to learn as much about this place as possible in the few hours available.
When I looked again, I did so professionally. None of the scattered plantings rose high enough or were dense enough that you could hide in them. That was good news for possible threats, but bad news should we need to take cover. I couldn’t spot any lawn-care, gardening, or tourist appliances, and when I tuned my hearing to the frequencies such machines use, I caught nothing.
“Lobo,” I said over our comm link, “have your scans turned up anything?”
“No,” he said. “If there are weapons outside the building, they’re not giving off any IR signatures I can trace. I can find no evidence of sensor activity on the grounds. I can’t recall a more electromagnetically neutral setting this close to a city.”
“Any luck penetrating the building?”
“No. It’s extremely well shielded. It’s transmitting and receiving on a variety of frequencies, of course, but everything is either encrypted or just the usual public data feeds.”
“Anything significant between here and his warehouse?” Dougat operated a shipping and receiving center on the south end of the city.
“Encrypted bursts of the size you’d expect for inventory and sensor management. That place reeks of machine security, but it’s not as shielded and currently reads IR-neutral. Best estimate is that no people are there.”
Jim Baen’s Universe Page 19