It had been well worth the trip to New York this week to purchase a new wardrobe for his house guest. The few things Miss Preston had flown up from San Francisco for the lovely young woman were entirely unsuitable. Delphina needed to be dressed like an empress. He found it impossible to explain it to anyone else, and had finally decided to choose the gowns himself.
After attending to other pressing matters in New York, he had invited several designers' representatives to bring some samples to his office. The power of his name was enough to bring them scurrying like ants. He had accepted the fact that a fresh flow of rumors would follow such purchases, but they would be impossible to confirm under the circumstances. He had piloted the plane to and from New York himself since King had to remain behind to attend to Underwood's special guests.
To compliment the gown, Delphina's beautiful hair was crowned by a wreath of baby's breath that trembled with each movement of her regal head. He marvelled at her loveliness every time he looked at her. No woman had ever had such expressive emerald-green eyes, or hair that perfect blend of red and light brown. Her cheekbones were a work of art as was her form.
He had not been stirred by a woman in so many years that he was genuinely surprised to find himself wanting to taste her lips and stroke her small breasts, to feel her narrow hips settle on his lap.
She was much too young. Oh, yes, she had answered that she was neither young nor old when he had asked her age. It was her pure innocence and delicate beauty rather than her actual age that discouraged his seducing her. He had avoided any sexual relationship, even with prostitutes, for most of his adult life because he had no desire for anyone to learn his secret.
A normal sexual experience was not enough, had not been since he was thirteen. He required something more to achieve gratification, and a man in his position could not risk such a weakness being used against him. So he suppressed his need and diverted his energies into accumulating money and power. Until Delphina appeared, he had not given his sexual desires a passing thought in years.
"Will you sing for me now, Delphina?" Her sweet feminine voice enveloped and warmed him more than the fire. He was glad Alaska's summer remained cool enough to allow lighting the fireplace. It seemed necessary to the scene, and it also pleased his guest.
The moment when Delphina first appeared, she had made him think of Napolean's Empress Josephine, and he found it impossible to treat her otherwise. She had responded in kind, as if they had rehearsed their lines in advance of their meeting. She fit the role so perfectly he could easily forget it was an act. He wondered if he had treated her like a whore instead, would she have accepted that as well and also acted accordingly? No, he could not imagine her as anything so crude.
Gordon tried to pinpoint the moment this fantasy replaced his previous life. The two of them had never discussed it; it more or less fabricated itself, and each hour, each day, it became more real and less make-believe.
Although he felt as if Delphina had always been with him, she had actually arrived less than three weeks ago. He remembered the exact moment because he had finally acquired the additional two percent he needed to have controlling interest of a British shipping firm that had dared to refuse to conduct business with one of his concerns. King had interrupted his phone call—which was absolutely forbidden—to tell him Karl Nesterman was demanding to see him. Since the computer scientist had been barely cooperative and completely unproductive so far, Underwood hadn't known what to expect.
As Delphina sang her ballad, Underwood recalled each detail of the scene that had set the stage for their relationship ...
King unlocked the door to Nesterman's apartment as soon as Underwood approached, then blocked the lone exit with his body as his employer entered the windowless room.
"Well, Underwood, I was beginning to think you'd lost interest in your little project," Nesterman said sarcastically. He swept his arm in front of him. "You can see for yourself why I summoned you, your Majesty! Actually I'm glad you took your sweet time getting here. It gave me a chance to collect my wits again."
Underwood could not stop staring at the auburn-haired vision. The flutter in his stomach was not strictly caused by the possibility that this incredible woman-child was an alien. "How did she get here?" he asked in a choked whisper without taking his eyes off the woman.
"I'd like to say I wished for her, but I don't think you'd be seeing her too, if she were my dream girl." When Nesterman got no reaction from Underwood, he sighed and went on, "I believe I brought her here, or rather this ring did with the last combination I tried. I hate to admit it, but I think you might have been right. She's not from around here. She speaks English by the way."
Underwood stepped forward. Intending to remove quickly any ring she might be wearing, he reached for her hand. As he did, she curved her fingertips into his palm and he found himself bending at the waist to brush the back of her hand with his lips. "Welcome to my home, lovely lady. I am your host, Gordon Underwood. May I put a name to my good fortune?" He suddenly felt like a young boy, playing at some long-forgotten game.
She bowed into a deep curtsy before him, and when she rose, her emerald eyes met his with open friendliness. "My name is Delphina, your Grace. I do not believe I am where I was supposed to be. Might I be so bold as to ask my location?"
"You may ask as many questions as you like, as I will of you. But first, I believe some refreshment is in order. King, champagne and pate in the drawing room, please. Oh, and bring some here for Mr. Nesterman as well. I believe he also deserves to celebrate." When Underwood offered her his arm, she gracefully placed her hand on it and smiled her willingness to follow his lead.
And follow his lead, she had.
When he had questioned her upon her arrival, her candidness had disarmed Underwood. It was almost as if she could not have lied even if her life had depended on it. This should have been an incredible stroke of luck to help him carry out his plans. With her, he would need no tricks, no chemicals, no deceptions or coercions. She had made no attempt to evade his questions. The problem was she did not seem to have many answers, and he had known instinctively that she was being completely truthful every time she answered, "I do not know."
Underwood had immediately noted she wore no ring. In fact, her only jewelry was a thin gold choker which she had explained was a universal translator. She could have responded in any language he spoke. She had shown no fear, no conhision over her situation, and only mild curiosity as to her future. Delphina had accepted her circumstances with surprising ease.
Delphina had also made no objections to the fact that she was not permitted to leave the house or to speak to anyone other than Gordon. When she was not secured in her room, King was always close by, but she had made no mention of her lack of freedom or the fact that the man she had met upon her arrival had even stricter confinement than she did. It was almost as if she had expected it to be that way.
Their lives had quickly taken on a certain pattern, a mixture of reality and fantasy. Underwood worked all day, but stopped to share each meal with her. She had no preferences herself, always choosing exactly what he selected to eat and drink.
Afterward they sat together in the drawing room over coffee or crystal snifters of warmed brandy, talking or playing games. Sometimes she would sing for him. From her ballads, he had learned the history of Norona and Innerworld, where she had been born. When he had questioned how much of the song was truth and how much folklore, she had not seemed to know that there was a difference.
Delphina also entertained him with her stories, another of her creative skills. Like Scheherezade she could weave a spell about him with her imaginative tales of faraway places and wild adventures.
At first Gordon had done most of the talking without being aware of how that had happened. He would begin asking her a question about her life, and he would end up talking about his own. She was the perfect listener, turning questions back on him, never interrupting with her own story, always making eye contact w
ith him, hanging on every word he said.
Eventually, he had controlled the effect she had on him enough to learn about Innerworld. She had created vivid pictures for him of cities where crystal prism buildings stretched up to a lavender sky, and the barren deserts of the far provinces where the large orange sun with its white ring seemed even bigger because of the emptiness. Instead of attracting an astrophysicist or chemist to his lair, he had a very creative, stimulating sociologist. Delphina was well versed in the culture and lifestyle of her world.
Now, after she finished her song, he asked her to tell him about the laws of her people.
As always, she was more than happy to please. "The Noronian people, whether on their home planet or in Innerworld, are subject to a handful of basic laws: One must work at something productive, enjoy the work one chooses, and maintain one's body in a good and healthy manner. Violence and dishonesty are not tolerated."
Underwood thought it sounded like paradise until she said that. "It sounds like a workaholic's idea of heaven, as long as he's honest and nonviolent. But what if he's not such a perfect specimen?"
"If someone cannot abide by these laws, there are different methods of handling the problem. In the most extreme case, one might be reprogrammed to help one become a useful citizen."
"Reprogrammed?" Underwood said in disbelief. He did not need a terribly active imagination to have an idea of what that meant. He knew without asking that Delphina would not know how that was done, either, so he merely encouraged her to go on.
"As important as our work is, though, so is our leisure time. It is divided almost equally, unlike Outerworlders who have a difficult time balancing the two."
"Oh? And how do you know about Outerworlders' habits?" Gordon asked with a chuckle.
"I have met a few in Innerworld. Since there are many who live in my world, particularly at the mining camps, I was required to learn about your culture and history."
Underwood learned that was how she had been able to step into her role as empress so easily, right down to her archaic speech. She had studied his world, not knowing she would ever be whisked into it. "But Delphina, how did Outerworlders get into Innerworld in the first place?"
"Through the doorways, of course."
He pressed her for more information, but she knew very little about how it was done, only that they were referred to as accidents, and there were many doorways on the surface of the Earth. Immediately, he vowed to find one of these doorways and to see her world for himself.
It was not only a matter of curiosity, it was also because of something else she had told him. The average life span there was at least one hundred fifty years, and often much longer. Doubling his lifetime would be more valuable than any high-tech secrets he could glean from her people. What good would all his money do him if he was stricken with cancer? According to Delphina, they had a cure for that and most other diseases common to Terrans, as she called his kind. They had the ability to replace defective body parts successfully, even restore life within a limited time period. It was better than he could have dreamed. But how could he locate one of these doorways?
Gradually over the past three weeks he had realized one of the major pieces to the ring's puzzle.
If Delphina could be brought out by something Nesterman had done to the ring, then someone could go in as well, back and forth between two worlds at will. It had occurred to him that if Nesterman accidentally transported himself into Innerworld, that would certainly convince the scientist once and for all that Underwood had been right about the alien civilization.
Delphina had explained to him that the ring could be used for many purposes, such as moving a person from place to place in seconds, and she had told him that the Noronians had ships in which they could travel to distant galaxies in relatively short spans of time. How these things were done did not interest her. They just were. A person's behavorial motivation was much more interesting to her.
The only subject close to science or industry he had discovered that she was familiar with was mining. She had told him she had expected to arrive at one of the mining camps where she was to begin work as an entertainer. The Noronians mined for volterrin, a dustlike substance located in the inner core of the Earth. It was the source of energy used in Innerworld as well as shipped back to their home planet. That was the extent of what she knew about it, but it had been enough for Gordon to realize that the man who could introduce volterrin to his world would have wealth and power beyond anything he had heretofore imagined. All he needed was a way in and out of Innerworld.
As much as Underwood enjoyed Delphina's company, he had also thought of her as a lure, better than the ring that was obviously not one of a kind or even worth its owner's time to retrieve. In her, he had something much better. As the Innerworld had done before when he had held one of their people captive, someone would come to rescue her. And when that happened, he would force them to reveal the key to the ring's operation. Unlike the first time he had captured an alien, he was now prepared to keep him or her.
"Delphina?"
"Yes, Gordon?" She smiled and leaned forward in her chair, eager to answer his question.
"Do you like it here? With me?"
"Yes, Gordon, very much."
"You know that someone will come for you one day, to take you back to Innerworld, don't you?"
Delphina considered his words for a moment. "I suppose that would be a reasonable assumption, but no one has come yet, and it has been almost three weeks. Perhaps they have no desire to find me, or are unable to locate your home, and I do not know how to contact them."
He did not believe they would abandon her so easily. If they did, his plans would all be for nothing, and failure was not part of his destiny. Perhaps the fact that she had not been wearing a ring made it more difficult for her people to find her. They would still come... eventually. They had to.
Gordon began again. "At any rate, I want you to know something. Whatever happens, having you here with me has been the most wonderful time of my life."
"I please you well then?"
Her words surprised him. They insinuated that she had been making an effort to please him and was not confident that she had. It seemed to come so naturally to her that he had never questioned why she behaved as she did. There could only be one reason that made sense to him now. Delphina was as fascinated with him as he was with her. Love at first sight. The little wheels in his brain spun a bit faster.
"Yes, Delphina, you please me very well. I don't care to think of how painful it will be when you leave."
"Painful? But I would not wish to cause you pain, Gordon. It is not permitted. If I am taken from here, you must find another to be your companion."
"I have never needed anyone before and I would not attempt to replace you. Any other woman would pale before my memories of you. No, there will be no other, and it will be extremely painful for me, but I would not keep you from your people."
"Then I will stay with you, Gordon, for as long as you need me." It was a statement of fact. She belonged to him now.
"Thank you, Delphina," he replied sincerely. "I would like that very much." What he actually had in mind was more along the lines of his returning with her to her world.
He might have continued such a promising conversation if King had not appeared in the doorway at that moment.
"Yes?" Underwood said without shifting his adoring gaze from Delphina.
"Miss Preston is calling from San Francisco, sir."
"Thank you, King. Delphina, please excuse me, my dear. Miss Preston would not be calling unless it was very important. I must get back to work now anyway. I shouldn't allow you to distract me so, but I can't seem to help it. I will see you later this evening."
At the last moment he gave in to a small temptation, a gesture to seal the beginning of a more substantial relationship between them. Bending forward, he placed a light kiss on her parted lips. He wondered fleetingly if there was any way it could be different for him wi
th her, or would he only succeed in turning her look of love into a sneer of disgust? As he left her, he decided there was too much at stake to take such a risk.
"Yes?" he said into the phone without any preliminaries.
"Something very odd occurred yesterday, so I followed it up. I think you'll be interested in my findings," Miss Preston replied quickly.
"Ill be the judge of that. Go on."
"Yesterday morning a young punk photographer showed up here, and tried to bluff her way into getting some pictures of you for a magazine I never heard of I, she called it. Before I got rid of her a man came in, long hair, looked like a model, but there was something about him that was not quite right. After she left, he decided he was in the wrong office and excused himself.
"I wouldn't have given either one of them a second thought except for the call I got from the Los Angeles office this morning. A woman had been there, yesterday afternoon, claiming to be getting ready for a '60 Minutes' segment you had agreed to appear on. She apparently bullied your secretary there quite successfully. I do believe I warned you that she might be a bit too young for that position."
"Continue!" Underwood barked at her.
"Yes, well, I thought it was a strange coincidence that two women would be trying to see you in two different offices on the same day. I had told the photographer you would be in Los Angeles all week, but the woman who turned up there a few hours later did not match the description of the one I had met, except in a very general way. The man, however, was unmistakably the same. Just before the alleged television woman got there, the long-haired man had shown up, looking for employment of all things.
"Naturally I instructed Los Angeles to pull the videotape from her office surveillance camera, do a freeze-frame on the man and the woman, and wire it to me immediately. I'll have the whole tape by this evening, but I wanted to compare the faces right away, the woman's in particular. I'm looking at the pictures right now, and I have no doubt. It's the same two people. I'm not at all sure they know each other, though." She quickly relayed their behavior in her office, and that the woman had questioned the L.A. secretary about the man's identity.
Topaz Dreams Page 6