by Mike Resnick
“Of course we have a deal, you son of a bitch. What choice have I got?”
“Not much,” agreed Rasputin. “You might try looking at the bright side, however. You'll still be free to sabotage other businesses.”
“You know,” said Bonhomme thoughtfully, “it's not such a bad goddamned deal at that. The Comet is going to be out of business in a year, anyhow.”
“Oh, I don't know,” replied Rasputin. “It just might outlive us all.”
Suddenly Bonhomme's eyes narrowed. “You know something else that you're not telling me, don't you?”
“Like what?”
“I don't know. But I've suddenly got a feeling that you know more about the Comet's books than anyone suspects.” He paused. “You're a man of many qualities,” he said admiringly. Suddenly he grinned. “That job I offered you is still open.”
“Even though I've just blackmailed you?”
“Especially because you've just blackmailed me. You have a capacity for doing what's necessary. I can use a man like you.”
“I don't think I have any use for a man like you,” said Rasputin.
“That's what Harry always used to say,” replied Bonhomme with a confident grin. “But he always came back to work.”
“Until he found what he was looking for.”
“All he found was a cheap whore and an early grave,” said Bonhomme contemptuously. “What are you looking for?”
Rasputin's gaze moved to the holograms of his family, then returned to Bonhomme. “I found it a long time ago,” he said at last.
“What the hell are you talking about?” asked Bonhomme, scanning the walls and trying to figure out what Rasputin had been looking at.
The Security chief smiled. “Something tells me that you wouldn't understand.”
Bonhomme shrugged, got to his feet, and walked to the door.
“I'll hold the job open for another week,” he said. “You might change your mind.”
“I doubt it.”
“You never know,” replied Bonhomme confidently.
“I might even arrange for you to choose a traveling companion from the other end of the ship.”
Rasputin stared at him without answering, and after a moment he walked out into the corridor.
The Security chief lit a cigar, then leaned back in his chair, put his feet up on the desk, and sighed heavily. The insular little world of the Comet, he reflected, was starting to resemble a mortuary.
Harry was dead, the Madonna was dead, Gamble DeWitt was dead, Suma was on the way out.
Bonhomme was still intact, but he promised himself that he wasn't through with Bonhomme yet, not by a long shot.
Only the Comet had emerged unscathed, and he had a feeling that it would be a living, thriving, functioning entity long after all the surviving players in this little drama had passed from the scene.
Suddenly he felt very old and very tired, and wondered if perhaps it wasn't time to pack it in and go find a nice quiet job on a nice quiet planet.
Possibly he might take a look at Pollux IV; there would be a farm up for sale there very soon.
Then he remembered the Lady Toshimatu, and a moment later he was staring intently at his screen, scrutinizing her every move as she delicately picked up her cards, appraised them, and pushed a pile of chips to the center of the table.
Pollux IV could wait. The Velvet Comet was still in business, and he had work to do.
A moment later he emitted a cry of triumph.
“I've spotted it, you wily old bitch, you!” he yelled happily. “After all these goddamned years, I've finally got you!”
All thoughts of regret and retirement had vanished from his mind by the time he reached the casino.
* * *
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Copyright © 1984 by Mike Resnick
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