by Mike Resnick
“I'll be taking it back to Deluros with me,” he replied. “After all, I was sent up here to solve a murder.
He's my solution.”
“I can have some of my Security people move him to your ship,” she offered.
“Thanks. And make sure he isn't recognized.”
“We're not in the habit of carrying corpses through the Resort. He'll be placed in some kind of container.”
Crane turned to the Black Pearl.
“When are you letting Bello go?”
“As soon as I get back to my office.”
“Before you do, get me the registration number on his ship. I've got to give it to Cupid so he can keep tabs on it.”
“All right. Will you be here for another half hour?”
“I don't know. How long before we can move the body?”
“I can stay here with it until my people come,” said the Dragon Lady.
“Can they be trusted?” asked Crane.
“Probably,” she replied. “But just to be on the safe side, I'll remove his make-up before they get here.” She smiled. “They'll never know who they're moving.”
“Good,” said Crane. “In that case, I'm going to go back to my suite and relax. It's been a long day.”
“Do you want the information on the ship sent there, then?” asked the Black Pearl.
“Right,” he said. “And while you're at it, send along a companion. I think I owe myself a little celebration.”
“Did you have anyone in mind?”
He stared at her for a long moment, then sighed.
“Bo Peep,” he said at last. “Without her sheep, if possible,” he added wryly.
“You're sure you wouldn't prefer someone else?” she asked meaningfully.
“I'm sure.” He smiled. “Why spoil a beautiful enmity just for a roll in the hay?”
She shrugged and left the room as he went back to removing his make-up.
Chapter 17
Crane waited until the Black Pearl's door slid open, then stepped into her office, where the madam and the Dragon Lady were waiting for him.
“Good morning, Mr. Crane,” said the Black Pear “I trust you—ah—slept well?”
“After a fashion,” he replied. “I just thought I'd stop by to go over some final details before I head back to Deluros.”
“Have a seat,” said the Black Pearl. “Can I get you some coffee?”
Crane nodded. “I could do with a cup.”
He walked over to a sofa, sat down on it, and turned to the Dragon Lady.
“Is my cargo loaded?”
“Both of them,” she replied.
“Both?”
“Pagliacci and Infante.”
“I'd forgotten all about Infante,” he admitted. “I suppose he's State's Exhibit Number One.”
“I was wondering what you want to do about Morales?” asked the Security Chief.
“Wait until I'm off the ship and turn him loose,” answered Crane.
She frowned. “Just like that?”
“What can he do—go to the authorities and say we tricked him into betraying Quintus Bello? He's got a lot more to hide than we do.” He paused. “While you're at it, you might tell him we nailed Infante's killer.”
The Black Pearl returned with a cup of black coffee which she handed to him.
“Thank you,” said Crane. “By the way, what time did Bello take off?”
“About five hours ago,” replied the Black Pearl.
“How soon will you be going after him?”
Crane shrugged noncommittally. “I've got a lot of other things to do first. Besides, Cupid can tell me where to find him if I want him.”
“If you want him?” repeated the Black Pearl. “I thought that was what this whole situation was about.”
“I've got to sound out Vainmill first,” explained Crane. He turned back to the Dragon Lady. “I have a feeling you might be right: bringing in Bello could be bad for business all the way around.”
“Speaking of Vainmill,” interjected the Black Pearl, “will they give you any trouble about coming back with two corpses?”
“As long as nobody figures out what was going on up here, I should be all right,” he said.
“And if somebody does figure it out?” she persisted.
“He'll be all right anyway,” broke in the Dragon Lady.
“I hope you're right,” said Crane.
“I know I am,” she replied. “Do you think this is the first scandal the Comet has ever had to hush up? We've had more crimes and criminals up here than you can imagine, Mr. Crane. We've caught heads of state cheating in the casino, we've had high governmental officials go a little haywire while practicing some of the more exotic sexual disciplines, we've even had a madam murdered. All Vainmill has ever asked is that we contain the damage and hush up the scandal—and when they finally figure out that we had Quintus Bello aboard the Comet, they'll know that you took the proper course of action.” She paused. “When someone actually gets around to opening that Priority File during one of Cupid's regular audits—and sooner or later someone will—you just may come out of this in even better shape than you thought.”
He finished his coffee and got to his feet. “Well, I guess I'd better be going,” he announced.
“We'll miss you, Mr. Crane,” said the Dragon Lady, rising and shaking his hand.
“Some of you less than others,” he replied with a glance at the Black Pearl.
“Perhaps,” acknowledged the Dragon Lady. “Just the same, I'd take an early retirement if there were any way I could induce you to become the Comet's Security Chief.”
He uttered an amused chuckle. “I'm supposed to be going up Vainmill's ladder, not down it.”
“Stated with your customary sensitivity,” commented the Black Pearl.
He walked to the door, then turned to the madam.
“Can I ask you a question?” he said.
“Go ahead.”
“I've got two corpses aboard my ship, you've just turned a mass murderer loose, and somewhere in the guts of that computer is a file that could conceivably send us all to the gallows.”
“What is your question, Mr. Crane?”
“Do you think it was worth it?”
She smiled. “Pagliacci is dead, Bello is in hiding, Morales will never tell what little he knows, and you're leaving for Deluros VIII. The only thing that remains intact is the Velvet Comet.” She paused. “What do you think?”
“I think it's a pretty high price to pay for a little sex,” he remarked dryly.
“You're entitled to your opinion,” she replied.
He waited to see if she had any further comment, then shrugged and left the office.
“A most unusual man,” said the Dragon Lady, when the door had slid shut again.
“I didn't like him,” replied the Black Pearl.
“I know. He was an unusual man anyway. I'll miss him.”
“You'll have a dessert or two, and get back to work, and miss him a lot less,” said the Black Pearl. “Men came and go. Only the Comet remains.”
“I suppose so,” said the Dragon Lady. She kept her gaze on the doorway through which Crane had departed. “I wonder if he'll make it?”
“To Deluros?” asked the madam, puzzled.
“To the chairmanship.”
“I doubt it. Too impulsive.”
“Still, in the end he did the right thing.”
“Only because he had no choice,” noted the Black Pearl. “He was a very dangerous man.”
“He was a very brilliant man.”
“I know. That's what made him so dangerous.”
She sighed. “Well I suppose if the Velvet Comet can survive a friend like him, it can survive anything.”
She stood up. “I'm going to feed my Night Crystals now. Would you care to come along and watch?”
“No,” said the Dragon Lady. “I've got to get back to work.”
“I'll see you later.”
The Dragon
Lady nodded and walked out the door, and was back in her own office ten minutes later. She went directly to the built-in refrigerator, took out an incredibly rich chocolate pastry, and sat down at her desk.
“Cupid?”
YES?
“Bring up the outside viewscreen, please. I'd like to see Mr. Crane's ship.”
A holograph of the ship appeared instantly.
The funny part, she reflected as she nibbled daintily at the pastry and watched the ship speed away, was that the Black Pearl was right: already the feeling of regret caused by his departure was lessening. She smiled as she tried to imagine his reaction had he known of her attraction to him, then shrugged. When all was said and done he was just a man, as flawed and ephemeral as any other man or woman. There would come a day, and not too far off at that, when she wouldn't even be able to remember what he looked like. The only thing of substance, the only thing that lasted, was the Comet.
And, since one of the things it represented was indulgence in one's personal passions, she finished her pastry with only a minimal sense of guilt. Then, sated spiritually as well as physically, she summoned her staff and began going over the day's duty roster.
* * *
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Copyright © 1984 by Mike Resnick
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