The Enigma Score

by Tepper, Sheri S

  Tasmin asked, ‘Do you know what Lim was doing, Vivian? Why he did it?’

  ‘He had to get to you,’ she replied. ‘That’s all I really know. He needed something by Don Furz, and you had it. And he told me if he could get that, we’d be wealthy. His family would be proud of him, and we’d be wealthy.’

  ‘Nothing else? Only that?’

  ‘That’s all. It was a secret, he said. A terrible secret.’

  She knew nothing more. They left her there, promising to return. Tasmin gave her what money he had with him, enough to last a few days. ‘Don’t go back to the market,’ he told her. ‘You don’t need to do that.’

  On the way to the car he fished in his pocket, bringing Celcy’s earclip out at last. He stood by the car, staring at it for a long moment. All he had left of her. All.

  ‘Jamieson.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘You’re a clever fellow, Reb. Somewhere in all this mess there will be someone who buys gems. I paid four hundred for a pair of these. Firestones are more valuable here than they are in the interior. You ought to be able to get at least a hundred for this one clip, just on the value of the stones. That’s enough to buy passage for a woman and a child, isn’t it?’

  It was Clarin who replied. ‘Yes, Sir. More than enough.’ There was an ache in her voice, but Tasmin did not notice it. She was fighting herself not to put her arms around him, but he did not notice that either. His face was so tired and bleak, she would have done anything at all to comfort him. The best she could do was do nothing.

  ‘Can you do that, too?’ Tasmin asked. ‘Get passage. Earliest possible trip with someone reliable. On the Southern Route, I think. It’s longer, but there hasn’t been a fatality on that route for quite a while.’

  ‘Yes, Sir.’ Jamieson and Clarin shared what Tasmin had come to identify as ‘a look.’

  ‘I’m all right. You heard the whole thing from the stairs, I know. It’s … well, it’s a shock to find someone you’ve –’

  ‘Hated?’ Clarin tilted her head to one side, examining him through compassionate eyes.

  ‘I guess. It’s a shock to find someone you’ve hated didn’t deserve it. It turns the blame inward.’

  ‘No more your fault than his,’ said Clarin, blinking rapidly. ‘Excuse me, Sir, but your father must have been a bastard.’

  ‘He was.’ Tasmin sighed. ‘In many ways he was, Clarin, he was.’

  ‘And then what?’ asked Jamieson. ‘Shall we go back on the same trip?’

  ‘Go back?’ he shook his head, for a moment wondering what the boy was talking about. ‘To Deepsoil Five? Of course not, Jamieson. The mystery is still there, isn’t it? I still don’t know what Lim was doing. I still don’t know why Celcy died!’

  ‘Where next, Sir?’

  ‘To Don Furz. That’s the only clue we have left.’

  Donatella Furz returned to the Chapter House at Northwest late in the afternoon of the agreed-upon day, having come up the coast in a small BDL transport ship and inland from there in a provisions truck. Zimmy would be expecting her, undoubtedly with something special set up by way of dinner and amusement. She needed him, needed to talk to him. Events of the past three days had been as confusing as they were frightening. She kept thinking of Gretl, even though what was happening to her was nothing like what had happened to Gretl except in its atmosphere of obdurate menace. At the moment of peril she had had no time to be frightened. Only afterward, considering it, thinking how close to death she had come both times, did the cold sweat come on her and her stomach knot. Now she had to confide in someone. Someone close.

  Who else could it be but Zimmy? She found herself rehearsing the conversation she would have with him, his exclamations of concern. He already knew about Gretl – everyone at the Priory knew about Gretl – he’d understand her fear. Even thinking of telling him made her feel better, as though the very fact she could share her troubles and dangers somehow lessened them. If she could trust anyone, she could trust him. Even though she hadn’t told him anything yet, she would now. She had to be able to talk to someone!

  Zimmy, however, was not waiting for her.

  She didn’t want to make an undignified spectacle of herself over the man – he was a services employee, after all, and the Explorer King had said enough on that score already – so she showered and changed and went down to the common room for a drink and the odd bit of chitchat. Chase Random Hall was in his usual place, a high backed chair with the unmistakable air of a throne. She nodded in his direction and received a nod in return.

  ‘All well, Don?’ he called, bringing every eye in the room to rest on her.

  Damn the man. ‘All well, Randy,’ she returned with a brilliant smile. ‘The doctor says I’ll live.’ She circulated, exchanging the gossip of Splash One for the gossip of Northwest. The evening meal was announced, and still no Zimmy. Now she began to worry, just a little. Had he forgotten the date of her return? He would be full of apologies and consternation if that was the case, busy taking little digs at himself. Or had something happened to him? She turned away from the thought. It was enough that people were trying to kill her; surely there was no reason for anyone to try to kill Zimmy. Of course, there were always accidents.

  ‘I don’t see Zimble around,’ she said to her dinner mate.

  ‘Zimmy? Oh, he went out. Let’s see, I saw him go out the little gate about midafternoon. Shopping, he said, and then an amateur show with friends.’

  ‘Ah.’ She kept her voice carefully casual. ‘After what I saw in Splash One, I grow concerned about any absent face.’ The conversation switched to Gretl Mechas, and she quickly changed the subject. They talked of Crystallites, suspected and proven, and she remained puzzled. He must have forgotten. Though Zimmy usually didn’t forget. Not anything. He was the kind of man who remembered every word of conversations held years before; the kind of man who sent greetings on obscure anniversaries; the kind of man who kept gift shops in business. He had a little notebook full of people’s birthdays. This minor talent, or vice, would have made him merely a sycophantic niggler were it not for his humor and charm. No, she could not imagine Zimmy forgetting.

  She was in the lounge at a corner table, half hidden by her table mates, when he returned. She saw him in the hallway, checking the message board. Ralth was halfway through a complicated story that she chose not to interrupt, so she did not call out or make any gesture, but merely noticed Zimmy from under her lowered lids. Zimmy turned, his mobile face twisted into a laughing response to someone’s remark.

  And saw her.

  Don let her lids drop closed, frightened at what she had surprised in his face. Shock. Shock and astonishment. He had not expected to see her here. He had not expected to see her anywhere. She gasped and put a hand to her throat, not looking up. Something hard pressed up. She gulped.

  ‘Don? What’s the matter?’ Ralth was looking at her with concern.

  ‘I swallowed the wrong way. Got so intrigued by your story, I forgot to breathe.’ She laughed and looked up. There he was. Zimmy. Now he was beaming at her. Waving. If she hadn’t seen him for that split second, she would have believed in his apparent pleasure at the sight of her. She waved back, as though she hadn’t a care in the world.

  Inside, a part of her screamed.

  If he had not expected to see her at all, then he had expected her not to be here. Not to be anywhere. To be dead.

  Zimmy. So. Well and yes, Donatella. He is a Chapter House man. A hired man. Here for your comfort. Did you think love would change all that? Did you think he loved you just because he said so? A hired man is a hired man, that is, a man who works for money, loves for money.

  Who had paid him?

  Ralth’s story concluded to general and amused disbelief. She excused herself and went to greet Zimmy, hiding her inner turmoil, pretending. ‘Zimmy! Lord, it’s good to be back. Splash One is a madhouse.’ Her throat was tight, but her voice sounded normal.

  ‘You look all pale around the eyes, lo
vely. Why don’t you go up and get into something more comfortable and I’ll give you a nice backrub.’ He gave her a sly, sideways glance, code for something erotic. No, oh, no.

  ‘Come on up,’ she said. ‘Just for a few minutes, though. I’m dead to the world. Couldn’t sleep down there in Splash One. Too noisy.’ She was going on past him, walking up the stairs, still talking. ‘Zimmy, do you know what I saw?’ She described the Crystallite immolation, shuddering dramatically. Once in the room, she sat on a chair and took her shoes off, motioning him to the other chair.

  ‘Don’t you want a nice backrub? You’d sleep better.’

  ‘Zimmy, old friend, I will tell you the exact truth. There was a man at the Splash One Chapter House you wouldn’t believe.’ She described Blanchet, focusing on certain attributes of his that were only conjectural, hinted at surfeit of all things sexual, and concluded, ‘So I really just want to fall into bed. Alone.’

  His chin was actually quivering. Tears were hanging in the corners of his eyes. God, the man should be awarded a prize for drama. Donatella made herself lean forward, made herself pat him on the knee. ‘Oh, Zimmy. Come on now. It didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t like us. But I am tired. Run on, now. Don’t let Randy see you being all upset or he’ll give you a public lecture.’ She yawned, opened the door for him despite his pretty protestations, and locked it when he was out of earshot.

  God. He was good. She had almost believed him. If it hadn’t been for that one split second….

  She would bet anything she owned that if he was not directly responsible for the attempts on her life, he was deeply involved.

  Who did he work for? In this house, he worked for the manager of services. The manager of services worked for the Prior. The Prior worked for the head of the BDL Department of Exploration – what was that man’s name, a new man. Bard Jimbit. Bard Jimbit worked for Harward Justin, Planetary Manager. All of them worked for BDL.

  Or perhaps he worked for the Explorer King, unofficially, for Randy’s position was one of honor, not actual authority. He had risen to that position, one of three or four current Explorers in various parts of Jubal to do so, through election by his peers. The Kings were elected to represent the Explorers in dealings with BDL, to conduct contract negotiations and resolve disputes. Kings were supposed to be nonpolitical, though everyone knew that a very political favor-trading process led to election. It was part of the whole ritual nonsense the order had been saddled with by Erickson. Theoretically, Don owed fealty to the King, fealty being anything from giving up her seat at dinner to going to bed with him if he demanded it. Chase Random Hall was too clever to cause ill feeling by demanding anything. He got what he wanted without demanding. Did he also want her dead?

  Who did want her dead? How had Lim Terree actually died? In an accident? Or had he fallen to some black-hooded figure coming out of the night? She got up and checked the lock on the door, then wandered around the room, casually examining the walls and ceiling. Listening devices? Were there listening devices in the walls? Were there eyes? Had someone watched her in this room as she pored over Erickson’s notes? Were those notes safe where she had hidden them in the closet, in the lining of her boots? It was an odd, unsettling feeling to search for spies here in Northwest. She had expected there to be eyes and ears in Splash One, she had not really thought there would be any here.

  And why not?

  Because this was home.

  Who, here at home, had paid Zimmy?

  Who, here at home, wanted her dead?

  It was almost dawn before she fell asleep.

  In the luxurious Executive Suite of the BDL building in Splash One, Chase Random Hall was the dinner guest of Harward Justin, Planetary Manager for BDL. They were not known to be friends, but Justin sometimes commented that he found the Explorer King a witty and amusing companion, whose views on the needs and desires of the Explorers were valuable to management.

  At least, such was the overt reason Justin gave for their occasional get-togethers. The covert basis for their real relationship was one of mutual self-interest. Just now they were discussing the upcoming contract negotiations for the Explorers’ Guild.

  ‘We’ll start meeting next week on the new contract,’ Randy said, sniffing at his broundy glass. ‘I suppose you want me to go through the motions.’

  ‘I’ve heard the usual nonsense that the Explorers will demand increased medical care,’ Justin said in his heavy, humorless voice. Justin was a bulky, powerful-looking man of sinister calm. He never allowed himself to do anything that threatened that appearance in public, although his private pleasures were less restrained. His pleasures were indulged in by himself, but his angers were attended to by others, usually by his agent, Spider Geroan. ‘Very expensive medical care.’

  The Explorer King sought consultation from the bottom of his glass. ‘They’re getting serious about it, Justin.’

  ‘Who is?’

  ‘A good many of them. Our little friend Don Furz, for one. Her lover’s still in that chair, you know. Five years now.’

  ‘She’s only one person.’

  ‘There are others.’

  ‘Not many. Reprogram them onto the amenities issue again. It’s a hell of a lot cheaper to pay for a few additional services employees than it is to ship people to Serendipity and pay for regeneration. Tell them about the progress we’ve already made. There’s minor regeneration already available here on Jubal.’

  ‘We have machines only for things like eyes, fingers, wiping off scars. Doesn’t mean much if you’re missing a leg or an arm.’

  Justin scowled. ‘The Explorer contract is not going to make a damned bit of difference, Hall! Go through the motions.’ The threat in his voice was patent. Tout them onto amenities and don’t worry about it.’

  ‘So it won’t make any difference,’ the King said. ‘Which means….’

  ‘Which means you should ask very few questions, Hall, and engage in no speculation at all.’

  Justin’s voice was oily with malice, but the King chose not to hear it. ‘The Governor is leaving it perilously late.’

  ‘Moving against the Crystallites, you mean?’ Justin made a cynical smirk. The Governor was doing what Justin had told him to do. ‘He may want a major incident.’

  ‘He’ll get it. It’s inevitable.’

  ‘He may feel that he must have something irrefutable, unarguable. A notorious assassination, perhaps. Something to justify the forceful use of troops.’ Justin tilted the glass and drank the last drop of broundy, then touched the button that would summon one of the mute and deaf waiters who served the Executive Suite.

  ‘Presumably the CHASE group can’t start hearings until the Crystallites have been moved into the relocation camp?’

  ‘They’ll be moved in time, just before CHASE is ready to meet. The Governor’s stepson, Ymries Fedder, will be chairman.’ Justin was not quite happy about this, but there had been some necessary favor trading in the ivory halls of PEC. Governor Wuyllum Thonks had friends there, though Justin could not imagine why.

  The King mused, ‘I presume the findings are already determined. The commission will find there is no reason to believe any sentience exists in the Presences….’

  ‘After which event,’ Justin said with a chilly and ruthless smile, ‘I think we would find we have more economical access to the interior than we’ve had heretofore.’

  There was an appreciative silence. ‘The Tripsingers are going to be very upset,’ said the King. ‘To say nothing of the Explorers.’

  ‘Do you really care?’ Justin asked carelessly.

  ‘Each time I check the balance in my account on Serendipity, I care less.’ He made circles on the table with his glass. Hall felt broundy was an overrated drink. The effect was pleasant, but the taste left much to be desired. He preferred fruit-based liquors, imported ones. ‘The account comes to a very nice sum. For which I should continue to give my best efforts. And that brings me back to Donatella Furz.’

  ‘You’ve
brought her up before. What are you suggesting, Randy? That she has uncovered some cache of secrets? That she has discovered The Password? That she has arrived at some fundamental truth that has eluded the rest of us?’ Justin shook his head and leaned back in his chair, accepting a full glass from a blank-faced servitor.

  ‘Oh, unload it, Justin. You understand well enough what I’m worried about. If she has learned something basic to do with language, with sentience, we’re slashed off. You, me, all of BDL.’

  Harward lifted a nostril. Foolish man to think his little worries had not been anticipated by those both more intelligent and more powerful than he. Foolish little man. Still, he made his voice sympathetic as he said, ‘Has she said anything to indicate that is true?’

  The King thought for a time, then shook his head reluctantly. ‘No. I have a man very close to her, and he says she’s got something, but she’s been chary. He has no proof of what it is, not yet.’

  ‘Well then?’ Harward allowed himself a tiny sneer.

  ‘She was wounded a few trips ago. A bad slash on her arm.’

  ‘Not an unheard-of occurrence for an Explorer. Broken crystals are like knives, I understand.’

  ‘I’d wager it was a knife. Somebody tried to get rid of her.’

  ‘Ah. And this makes you suspicious?’

  ‘Wouldn’t it you?’

  ‘It would make me ask you, Randy, why you take such an interest?’

  Randy snarled. ‘The Enigma has been tried and tried again. She didn’t just go out there and solve it all by herself with her little music box.’

  ‘Erickson did.’

  ‘Not the Enigma!’

  ‘I mean that Erickson solved various passwords all by himself with his little music box. Why are you so determined that Furz did not?’

  ‘I know her. I know how her mind works. She isn’t capable of that. She’s bright, but she’s not Erickson.’

  Which was pure jealousy talking, Justin thought. Chase Random Hall was one of the most politically astute Explorers on Jubal, but he was not one of the most talented. ‘Well, as far as that goes, the score may not work. I understand it isn’t even scheduled for testing. It may be a complete boggle.’