Oath of Fealty

by Larry Niven

  Others came to join them.

  "When does anyone get their work done?" Rebecca asked. "It looks like the whole business community-"

  Barbara laughed. "It very nearly is. The Big Brothers' lunch was today. Annual event. They figure they'll never get any work done because they're half-looped. So why not finish the job? Including, I see, the General Manager of this place. Uh-if you could manage to excuse me, I think I'd better join him."

  "Oh, sure, not at all," Ted said. He stood quickly.

  Rebecca joined him reluctantly. "We haven't seen the casino-"

  "Plenty of chances for that," Ted said. "We'll be living here." Yes, Barbara thought. And I wonder just how much interest in the casino Rebecca has? MILLIE. Monitor financial activities at Inferno for new residents Ted and Rebecca Flan. Notify me of any activity over two hundred dollars.

  "After all," Ted was saying, "We wouldn't want to see everything in one day-"

  "I suppose not," Rebecca said.

  Barbara stood and offered her hand. "I think you'll be very happy here. Good luck."

  They shook hands, and Ted turned away. Then he stopped. "Oh. I forgot." He fished in his coat pocket and came up with a key which he held out to Barbara. "You will take care of Katie, won't you? She's something special-"

  "We'll find her a good home," Barbara said. She put the key in her purse and watched them leave the bar. When they were gone, she turned to go back to her office.

  "Barbara-"

  Nuts, she thought. No escape now. Tony Rand had seen her, and he looked a good bit more than half-looped. "Hi, Tony."

  "Hi. I'd like to ask you a favor."

  "Oh? Sure, if I can-"

  "It's kind of complicated," Tony said.

  "Well, I was planning on working-"

  "It's important," Tony said. He led her toward a table. Barbara watched analytically as she followed. He's part drunk and damned nervous, she thought. I'd better see what he wants.

  Rand waved at the waitress, and moments later she brought him a Scotch and a Pink Lady for Barbara.

  "Sometimes this place is just a little too efficient," Barbara said. "I didn't really need a drink." Nor, for that matter, did you.

  "Relax," Rand said. "You can't work today. Nobody sober to interact with."

  "You've a point there," she said. The arm wrestling game was continuing loudly-an Angelino deputy district attorney against one of Shapiro's assistants. "What's your problem, Tony?"

  "Hah. I've got a dozen problems. Including Art's latest idiocy-',

  "Yes?"

  "Oh, you know-"

  "No, I don't, Tony," Barbara said.

  "But you have to know. You're on the management council. He has to tell you. It's in his charter." He gave her a wink. "You know-"

  She let her voice show impatience. "Tony, I don't have the least idea of what you're talking about, and I don't have time to play games."

  "But-" He looked up at the ceiling. "The cones work. I don't think anyone can hear us-"

  "Tony, if you're about to say something Art wants kept secret, I'd advise you not to. There are Angelinos all over."

  "Yeah. I know." He tossed off the Scotch and waved at the waitress. "That wasn't the favor I wanted anyway."

  "Good." MILLIE. Link me to Bonner. "Art, your court magician is in his cups and wants to babble all our secrets."

  "I have another problem. I'm afraid of my wife."

  "What?"

  "Ex-wife. She called me. Wants to talk seriously with me. If I don't give in to her demands, she moves to New York and takes our son with her."

  "Barbara, I see you. Want me to come over?"

  "Not just yet. But you better think of a way to get him out of here."

  "That's easy. Give me ten minutes and he'll be gone."

  "What are her demands, Tony?"

  "She wants to live here, for starters," Tony said. "And I think she wants me."

  "And you don't want her."

  "No. Good Lord no. Not now."

  "But you don't want her to move to New York."

  "Why not?"

  "I don't-I just don't."

  Tell me about Genevieve Rand.

  Data poured into her mind. She hadn't time to digest it all, but one thing was obvious.

  "I suppose it's the boy?"

  "Yes-"

  "Are you being fair to him, Tony?" Barbara asked. "You're building your starship, and you're leaving your son behind-"

  "You didn't have to be so damned blunt about it."

  "Sure I did. That's what's bothering you, isn't it?"

  "Yes, but I don't know what to do about it. Barbara, the only way he could live here is to have Djinn live here too. He's legally hers, not mine."

  "Yes, Tony, I know. But I don't know why you're so dead set against her being here."

  Tony was quiet for a long time. Barbara shook her head. She'd never understood Rand, but he seemed stranger than usual today.

  "If-" he hesitated. "If I had to see her every damn day I'd probably be married to her in a year."

  "But if-Tony, if you think you'd marry her again, why would that be so bad?"

  "Because she's lived off me for all these damn years," Tony said. "And she never did a damn thing for me all that time. Where was she when I needed her? Now it's the other way around."

  "So you're making her pay, but you get no satisfaction from it because it hurts your son."

  "You sure have a way with words," Tony said. He brooded for a moment. "But I guess it's true."

  "Then it's simple enough. Bring her here and put her on the other side of the building. Todos Santos is a big place."

  "What would she do here?"

  Barbara digested more information. "She seems to have done all right as a civic leader. Quite a natural organizer. I expect she'd do well. Probably be a neighborhood representative within a couple of years-oh. That's the problem, isn't it? You think she'd do too well."

  "I'm not that petty."

  Oh yes you are, my friend, Barbara thought. I wonder just how long that little dilemma has been eating away at you. "Art, I really think you should get Tony out of here soon."

  "I've sent for reinforcements. Shall I join you now?"

  "One moment more." "Tony, what do you want me to do?"

  "I want you to talk to her. Negotiate for me. You're the sharpest negotiator I know."

  "Sure," Barbara said. "I expect I am. But for all my fabulous skills, Tony, what can I do? You don't know what you want, so how could I get it for you?"

  "I don't know. You could do something. Better than I can." He hunched his shoulders forward and stared into his drink. "Let her in. I won't be here anyway."

  "Tony, what in the world are you talking about?"

  "Nothing-Hello, Art. Enter the Grand High Executioner."

  "Art, what in the devil is wrong with him?"

  "I told him to plan a jailbreak. He's scared."

  “?”

  "Contingency plan."

  "Sorry I couldn't be with you earlier," Bonner said. "Big powwow with MacLean Stevens." He shrugged. "Nothing we could really talk about, of course. The situation's cut and dried. Planchet wants blood, and Mac's got to supply some."

  "Ours," Tony said. "Maybe he'll get more than he expects. I've been looking up the law on conspiracy-"

  "That will do." Bonner's voice was edged with ice. "You're drunk. Take the afternoon off."

  "Oh, yass, baas. Take the day off. Shuffle off, shuckin' and jivin' all the way-"

  "This won't do at all," Barbara thought. "Rough and smooth?"

  "Right."

  She put her hand on Tony's arm. "Art's right, we've all had too much." She pointed to the low table by the bar. The arm wrestlers were still at it, and there was a five-way conversation over their heads, with no one listening to anyone. "And we're the soberest people here!"

  "Hi, Tony. Mr. Bonner." Delores came to the table. Bonner stood.

  "Hell, you sent for her, too," Rand said. "Christ, no more privacy th
an a goldfish. There's something wrong with the whole idea of this place. People can't live like this."

  "Oh, hush," Delores said. She sat next to Rand. "What did you expect Mr. Bonner to do, send you home alone?" She grinned. "I've got the afternoon off, too. Can we think of something to do?"

  Rand rubbed his head. "Maybe we could-"

  "That's the spirit. Let's go." Delores stood and dragged Tony up. "Gee whilhikers, Mr. Wizard, you walk funny-"

  "Oh, shut up," Rand said, but he walked with her out of the room.

  "Whew."

  "Yeah."

  "What did he want from you? He spent long enough telling you."

  "He wants me to negotiate with his ex.wife. He wants-"

  "STOP!"

  The command was a shout in Barbara's head. Involuntarily she put her hands over her

  ears. "My God, Art, don't do that!"

  "Sorry." Bonner looked nervously around the room.

  "Are you all right? Has everyone gone insane here?"

  He was looking at her but not seeing her. She'd never seen Art Bonner like that. Indecisive. Something really strange was happening- "Let's go somewhere," Art said. "And-keep the conversation verbal and trivial for a while."

  "Sure-where do you want to go? Your office? Mine?" My place or yours. Hah. That'll be the day. I wonder what it would be like? She felt his hand on her arm, and she stood, letting him guide her past an erupting Mount St. Helens. His grip was firm. She couldn't remember if he'd ever touched her before. They'd always been wary of each other, two executives with something like telepathy, guarding their thoughts when they were together, never a man and a woman.

  He led her onto a crowded pedway. Todos Santos people automatically moved aside to make room for them, but the Angelinos either didn't recognize them or didn't care. No one spoke to them, and they rode in silence.

  Strange. Weird, Barbara thought. We could talk without being overheard, only he doesn't want to talk through MILLIE. Something of his sense of urgency kept her from using MILLIE at all, and she rode through the crowded Mall, silent, feeling cut off from the world and alone for the first time in years.

  The guard at the exit gate stared in surprise. "Don't you want someone to go with you, Mr. Bonner?"

  "Thanks, Riley, we'll be all right. Going to look at some property. MILLIE can find us if we're needed," Bonner said. He led Barbara out to the subway platform.

  "Art, what in hell are we doing?" she asked when they were away from the gate.

  "Getting out of Todos Santos for a while."

  "Where are we going? I have to tell my staff-"

  "No. Please. Not this time. We won't be gone long."

  She looked at him intently. "Are you drunk?"

  "A little. Has nothing to do with this."

  "All right. But where are we going?"

  "Anywhere. Restaurant. Coffee shop. Someplace random-"

  "Boy, When you flip out, you really do it, don't you?" A train rushed into the station and stopped. They hopped on it and found seats. Bonner's face was a deadpan, no visible emotion, a study in self-control, and that was a little frightening too. "Any preference on where we get off?" she asked.

  "No, but let's make it a couple of stops more."

  "Sure." She looked thoughtful for a second. "I know where we can go."

  "Fine. Lead the way."

  Meaning don't say it out loud? she wondered. Well, I won't. The train pulled into the Marina station, and she waited until the last moment, then grabbed Art's hand and pulled him. "Let's go," she said. They ran out just as the car doors closed.

  She was laughing as they went up the steps. "Were you really worried about someone following us? Because I think I took care of that-"

  "You sure did. But no, I wasn't especially worried about that."

  They came out to bright daylight a hundred yards from the ocean. To their right was a long stretch of beach, with dozens of Angelinos playing in the surf, doing exercises on swings and jungle gyms, or just lying around on the beach.

  "Nice idea," Art said. "I haven't been for a walk on the beach in ages."

  "Actually I had something else in mind," Barbara said. She led him off to the left, into the maze of slips and piers and docks, through a forest of sailboat masts, searching for a slip number. "This way," she said. They walked out a long pier and stopped in front of a big single-masted boat. The name painted across the stem was Katherine III.

  "What's this?"

  "I just bought it," Barbara said. "Well, for the company, but I've got the keys. Want to help me aboard? My skirt's a little tight to climb that rail-"

  "Sure," he said. "Uh-those heels aren't going to work so well on teak decks."

  "Right." She took them off, then let Art lift her over the plastic-coated wire guard rail. "Pretty boat," she said.

  Art nodded. "Forty-foot motor sailor. You could sail around the world in this. You bought it?"

  "More or less. I took over the payments." She took out the key and unlocked the companionway. A ladder led down to a large saloon cabin fitted out with wide padded berths that served as seats along both sides of a cockpit table. Art followed her down.

  She looked around in the mahogany lockers. "Aha. JTS Brown," she said, holding up a bottle of bourbon. "Or should I make coffee?"

  "A little bourbon won't hurt," Bonner said. He found glasses in a fitted locker, and a small refrigerator below supplied cold water. They sat at the table and Barbara poured.

  "Typical story." Barbara said. "Young couple, bright guy doing well writing software for a computer company. Making lots of money, but they got in over their heads. Cars, fancy apartment, furniture, this boat-so when his boss reneges on promotions, what can the poor bastard do? He can't go start his own company, not owing all that money." She grinned. "So I surprised hell out of the boss and set them up in business."

  "And the boat?"

  "Distraction," Barbara said. "Look, we set them up, and we're only taking 40 percent of the company. The rest is his. We're risking a lot of capital-so I damned well insist that he risks everything he's got. And I do mean everything. Gives him a powerful incentive."

  "Lot of pressure on a young family," Bonner said. He twisted his face into what might have been a grin and might have been something else. "I know what pressure can do. To a person, and to a marriage."

  "No pressures," Barbara said. "He's got his office, a DEC computer, some lab space, a C3 apartment, and six months in Commons. He doesn't owe anybody a cent and they can't starve. All part of the package. Now all he's got to do is produce. And I know damned well he can do that, because mast of what BFK Associates sells was written by him-"

  "So you think of everything. How many of these deals go sour?"

  "Not enough of them."

  "Eh?"

  She shrugged. "A low failure rate means I'm not taking enough risks. I'm supposed to take risks. My failure rate is down to -- Oh, DAMN YOU, Art Bonner! We're out of range and I can't remember and I don't like being cut off from my memory! What is going on?"

  He sipped at his bourbon. "What did Tony want you to talk to his ex-wife about?"

  She shook her head. "Art, I won't play games any longer. I want to know what's happening."

  "Yeah. Hard to know where to start. You remember that reporter, Lunan? You and the PR people thought it would be a good idea to turn him loose-"

  "Yes, and I don't think that documentary hurt us a bit."

  "Me either," Bonner said. "But that wasn't what I was trying to say. He had an offer of his own. Information for interviews. I bought it."

  Art paused and sipped at his drink. "The information was that a Fromate UCLA professor named Arnold Renn furnished the Planchet kid the data he needed to break into Todos Santos. Okay, so where did Renn get the data? We don't exactly advertise those codes."

  She felt a tingle at the base of her spine. "Art, where does Tony fit into this?"

  "I had Security watch Professor Renn. He spent yesterday night in Genevieve Rand's apa
rtment."

  "But-"

  "Not the first time, either," Bonner said. "Genevieve and Renn go back a long way, to before Rand's divorce. She put in a year with an eco-freak outfit Renn was president of. That was back before there were any Fromates. Another interesting little item. Six years ago, Tony brought his son, Zach, to Todos Santos ... "