The Enigma Score

by Tepper, Sheri S

  Tonight, Justin was considering a particular one as he waited at the connecting door while the guard unlocked it. Inside this door to the left, another door led to the apartments of the professional servants: the doctor, the masseuse, the four social courtesans who acted as hostesses when Justin entertained, each with private and well-equipped quarters. To the right were the cells, tiny cubicles provided only with basic sanitation equipment. At one time he had thought to fill this corridor, but he hadn’t done so. Many of the doors stood open, revealing empty rooms. He went to a closed door, third on his left, and thrust it open. It was numbered with a ‘6,’ and it opened only from the outside.

  The occupant was huddled against the wall.

  ‘Stand up,’ he ordered her.

  She did not seem to have heard him. Cursing, he pulled her to her feet and she swayed against the wall, almost falling. She was dressed in filthy veils which left her breasts and crotch uncovered. At one time she would have tried to cover herself. She did not, any longer. She did not need to, any longer. The once voluptuous body, the once shapely legs were now mere bony caricatures. What had been a wealth of mahogany hair was now a greasy mop, hanging in lank strings.

  ‘Beddy-bye,’ he said to her, his code word, the word he had made her fear.

  There was no response. No movement in the dull eyes. No twitch on the face.

  Cursing again, he struck her and she fell against the wall to lie there without moving.

  ‘They’re not going to come after you, you know!’ he shouted. ‘They all think you’re dead. They’ve thought so for months. The same night I brought you here, we got a body that Geroan had worked over and put it with your clothes out behind the Priory. Everyone thinks it was you!’

  There was not a flicker of response.

  Harward stormed out of the room, letting the door lock itself behind him.

  He let himself into the other corridor. The doctor’s apartment was second on his right. This time Harward made a perfunctory gesture of knocking before he entered. Professional servants worked better if one allowed them a pretense of privacy.

  The man inside rose from the chair he had occupied, a finger marking his place in the book he held. He was neatly dressed in Justin’s livery, a gray-faced man of about thirty-five. His hands trembled. ‘Yes, Mr. Justin,’ he murmured.

  ‘Room number six,’ Justin demanded. ‘What’s the matter with her?’ Part of the doctor’s duties was to provide medical attention to those in both corridors.

  ‘Gretl?’

  ‘Number six,’ hissed Justin.

  ‘She’s dying,’ the doctor said, his voice quavering. The quaver irritated Justin. If she was dying, it was her own fault. He had intended her to be one of his courtesans, but she’d failed to please him.

  ‘Why? What’s the matter with her?’

  The doctor’s voice became calm and quite emotionless. Only the trembling hands betrayed him. ‘She’s half starved. She’s been repeatedly raped and abused, and she wishes to die.’

  ‘Stop her.’

  ‘I’m afraid there is nothing I can do. I can force feed her if you like, or put her on euphoric drugs if you wish. She might go on living then, at least for a while. She’ll never look like anything much, of course.’

  Justin curled his lip in irritation. Of course he didn’t want the woman on euphorics. The woman’s happiness was not what he had in mind.

  ‘Get rid of her,’ he said.

  ‘I can’t … I can’t do….’

  ‘You can. Or I’ll have someone call on your wife, Doctor Michael. Maybe you’d like to have her in room six?’

  The doctor was silent.

  Justin turned to go.

  ‘Mr. Justin….’

  ‘What!’

  ‘I’ve been here for a year….’

  ‘So?’

  ‘You told me after I’d been here for one year, you’d consider letting me see the children….’ Now the face betrayed the man. A certain liquid glaze of the eyes. A quiver at the corner of the mouth.

  Justin’s lips curled once more, this time with a deep and abiding satisfaction.

  ‘Yes,’ he assented very softly and lovingly. ‘I certainly will do that, Doctor. I certainly will consider it.’

  The man’s face broke. ‘Are they…. are they all right?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t they be?’

  ‘Please, Sir –’

  ‘Doctor!’ The voice was a whip crack.

  The man bowed his head, wordlessly.

  ‘Your being a good boy,’ said Justin, licking his lips, ‘is what keeps your family the way it is.’

  There was no response. Justin left him there, shaking very slightly, his finger still in the open pages of the book.

  Justin talked to himself, quietly and convincingly. He was well rid of the woman. She’d been a disappointment, so forget her. What he’d really wanted to do was prove a point, and he’d done that. Nobody said no to Harward Justin and got away with it. As for the doctor, he would give the man a little hope. Not much, just a little. Make him think his family’s life was connected to what he did, how he acted. Make him believe that. Maybe show him a holo of his wife and kids. It would have to be faked, of course. Since one didn’t want wives running around asking inconvenient questions, the doctor’s wife had been dead since the day Geroan had picked the doctor up. As for the children….

  His ruminations were interrupted by the murmur of a well-known voice coming via annunciator from the reception hall, four stories below. Justin started and swore. Think of the devil. The voice on the annunciator was that of Spider Geroan. He was on his way up.

  ‘Well, Spider.’ Justin greeted him with a twisted smile and an affable squint of his slushy toad’s eyes. ‘Nice of you to come and let me know the job’s done.’

  ‘Unfortunately, no.’

  There was a silence, more uncomfortable than ominous. Spider Geroan had no fear of Justin’s displeasure. A physical anomaly made him immune to pain, and he could not remember ever having felt affection or feared death. He was proof against threats. His only pleasures were both arcane and agonizing for others; his only reason for living was a narrow but persistent curiosity. His motionless face betrayed no interest in what he had just said, but then it never betrayed any interest in anything. It was one of the things Justin liked about Geroan.

  So now, Justin asked in the sympathetic tone one might use in inquiring after the health of a dear and valued friend, ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Spider. What happened?’

  ‘You wanted Don Furz’s killing to look like a Crystallite attack?’

  ‘I did. I do, yes. She’s very well-known, something of a cult personality. Her killing will be the final outrage that will move the Governor to lock up the Crystallites.’

  The assassin nodded. ‘I sent a small group of well-trained men armed with knives. Your little man in the Priory boggled a set of orders, just as you directed, and got the Explorer sent up into the Redfang. My men were ready to take her as soon as she got far enough out that she couldn’t retreat back among the Presences. While we waited for the appropriate moment, someone else went for her. Four of them. My men joined in, but a bunch of armed Tripsingers came along and drove them off.’

  ‘Tripsingers! Armed? How many?’

  ‘My men said six. I doubt that. There were probably three. From the descriptions, one of them was likely Tasmin Ferrence, from Deepsoil Five. He was in Northwest City just hours before, and he mentioned to a truck driver that he wanted to meet Furz. There were two acolytes with him, probably his own. They were carrying at least one rifle. I don’t know how or why they were armed, not yet, but I’ll find out.’

  Justin sucked on his teeth impatiently. ‘So, what happened?’

  ‘Several of my men were killed; the rest were driven off. Furz and the Tripsingers retreated into the Redfang Range.’

  ‘She got away again!’

  ‘They got away.’ There was a slight emphasis on the they. Geroan had been paid to get the woman,
but now he wanted them all. ‘Only temporarily.’

  ‘You sent someone after them?’

  ‘Of course. You’ve paid to get rid of her, and you’ll get what you paid for, Justin. It’s ridiculous that it should be requiring so much effort. I’ve already sent some of my people into the Redfang after them, along with a couple of hired Tripsingers.’

  ‘If you get to Furz, you’ll have to kill Ferrence, too, and the Tripsingers won’t stand for your killing their colleagues.’

  ‘They won’t be asked for their approval.’ His voice was almost weary, as though the subject bored him. No muscle of his face quivered, and Justin found this stoniness admirable. Still, he persisted. Justin sometimes dreamed of evoking surprise on that face, just once.

  ‘They may attack your people.’

  ‘If they do, they’ll be disposed of.’

  ‘Then your men won’t be able to get out!’

  Geroan turned his back. So, the men wouldn’t be able to get out. They were expendable.

  Justin subsided. ‘Who were the men who beat you to it?’

  ‘One of them lived for a short while. I asked him.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘He said he got his money from the Crystallites, but it came originally, so he understood, from Honeypeach Thonks.’

  ‘Thonks’s whorelady? Why would Honeypeach want to kill Donatella Furz?’

  Geroan had wondered the same and had been sufficiently curious to institute a few inquiries. ‘I’m told the Governor’s lady was enamored of one of the Top Six ’Soilcoast singers.’

  ‘Rumored, hell, man. Honeypeach was and is enamored of all six of them, and any twelve other men, women, or mules, anytime, anywhere. You mean Lim Terree? The one who died? You’re right about part of it at any rate. He did die while using a Furz score. Still, isn’t it farfetched to think that was the reason?’

  ‘Perhaps. Her motivation could be mere pique. During a big reception here in Splash One some months ago, Donatella Furz introduced Honeypeach as Gereny Vox.’

  Even Justin could appreciate the humor in this. He barked, ‘So? A slip of the tongue? You have people who would report a slip of the tongue?’ He shook his head, wonderingly. Spider Geroan was the best in the business, and his success was known to be based on detailed and accurate intelligence, but could he really place credence in such tiny things?

  ‘Perhaps her own self-esteem is as important to her as your secrets are to you, Justin.’

  Justin snorted. It was hard enough for him to imagine how an ex-erotic dancer and part-time prostitute on Heron’s World could get pregnant by an ambitious bureaucrat, bear him a son, and end up displacing the Governor’s well-bred wife to become the first lady of a not inconsiderable planet. That the same woman would be particularly jealous of her reputation surpassed belief. ‘I don’t think it’s a question of self-esteem, Geroan. It’s a matter of vanity, plain and simple. Honeypeach believes everyone on Jubal knows her and either admires or envies her or both. If they don’t, they should. She doesn’t give a damn about her past. It’s her present and future she cares about, and having people look at her is important to her. That’s why the ’Soilcoast singers are almost her private property – vanity. It’s why she makes the honorable Wuyllum keep his pretty daughter tied down – though Pm trying to talk her out of that.’ Justin licked his lips. ‘The woman wants no competition. Sometimes she has to be encouraged to allow a little.’

  ‘Well, we’ll soon eliminate whatever competition Furz may offer. If my men don’t catch up to her within the next two days, I’ll go after her myself. I cannot remember an occasion on which someone escaped my efforts three times. It cannot be allowed. My sense of what is fitting will not permit it to happen again.’ The words were like drops of water falling onto stone, emotionless, without particular force, and yet the will behind the voice would eat away just as the drops of water would, forever if necessary. If Geroan ever brooded, which Justin doubted, he was perhaps doing it now. ‘Just as a sop to my curiosity, Justin, how did you find out the woman is a danger to you?’

  ‘You have your sources, Geroan. I have mine.’ The assassin waited, unmoving, and his implacable silence made Justin uncomfortable. ‘Oh, very well. Someone got a translator program for her from off-world. The procurement clerk saw the item on a bill of lading and reported it to me. I have a short list of items that are always reported to me whenever they show up, and translators are at the top of the list. Then Donatella reported her synthesizer missing in Splash One, and the Prior there reported that fact, through channels. “Lost” equipment is something else I interest myself in, for obvious reasons. Those two facts drew my attention to Donatella Furz. Then the services man at her home Priory told the Explorer King she was excited and elated about something. And she dropped a few remarks to him that indicated more than a passing interest in the ultimate Password. Besides which, she came up with an Enigma score, and the damn thing works. Given that combination, what would you think, Geroan?’

  The assassin merely stared, saying nothing for a moment. Geroan was almost incapable of surprise, but Harward Justin had just surprised him. Geroan had underestimated him. Justin’s information net had to be almost the equal of Spider’s own. The only clue that Spider had and Justin had not mentioned was the rather equivocal information that the hairdresser, Sophron, had come up with.

  After Geroan had gone, Harward spent a few minutes in futile cursing. Donatella Furz led a charmed life. He had no idea how she had escaped the first two times. Both assassins had been provided by Geroan himself, but it would do no good to rail at Geroan. And though Justin would feel much more secure if she were dead, perhaps it was sufficient that she had been driven back into the ranges, out of communication with anyone on the ’Soilcoast. It was unlikely she could stir up any trouble before Ymries and the CHASE Commission would arrive. Once the hearings started, how could she do any damage?

  Some other excuse would be found to round up the Crystallites. Chanty Bins could get his pet terrorist to plant a bomb or something, then the rabble Crystallites would be rounded up and put out of the way. Of course, Chanty Bins and his cronies would need a few days’ notice to get off-planet before the general roundup. They’d done a good job of setting up the whole Crystallite operation, and he might be able to use them again somewhere else….

  Unless – unless he decided he didn’t want them to leave at all, which might be safer for Justin in the long run. The three of them must have accumulated a considerable credit account on Serendipity by now – four millions or more, Justin estimated from what he knew of the take at the temples. The account wouldn’t be hard to tap if he set his mind to it, particularly if Bins and his colleagues weren’t getting in his way while he did it. Four millions or more was a nice bit of lagniappe.

  He considered this for some time, along with thoughts about the armed Tripsingers, without quite making up his mind what he intended to do about either. His disappointment in his special servants was quite forgotten.

  Word went out from Spider Geroan’s place, atop one of the older buildings in Splash One, that the spider was tugging on his web. The strings of that web, highly placed and low, twitched themselves nervously wondering if anything they had caught would be of interest to the spider. Though sometimes it was better to have nothing interesting at all than to have only part of something that Spider Geroan badly wanted.

  One of Geroan’s webs shivered almost immediately.

  ‘It’s Price Zimble, Spider, Sir. Word is you want reports. I have nothing new of use, honored one.’

  ‘Surely you’ve talked to the Explorer knight since her return, services man.’

  ‘Only briefly, honored Geroan. She hasn’t sent for me since she got back.’

  A long pause for thought. ‘You couldn’t possibly have said or done anything before she left that would have given her a clue we’d been talking about her, could you, Zimmy?’

  ‘Never, honored Geroan. Of course not. It wasn’t me that tipped her, if anything
tipped her. It was something that happened in Splash One.’

  ‘Funny thing,’ murmured the Spider.

  ‘What’s that, honored Geroan?’

  ‘Some of my people went up to Redfang, Zimmy. Looking for the Explorer knight up there. Found her, too, just like you arranged for our friend Justin. Of course, you hadn’t arranged anything for Justin until you’d checked with me first, had you? Because the Spider’s webs only work for the Spider, don’t they? They don’t play the outside against the middle do they, Zimmy? Right?’

  ‘Right, Spider, Sir. I didn’t do a thing until you gave me the start, Sir. Then I did the orders Justin wanted. They were perfect, just perfect. Looked official, they did, Sir.’ Zimmy sounded more nervous than usual while talking to Geroan.

  ‘Funny thing.’

  Silence.

  ‘My people found some other people up there, too. Some other people looking for the Explorer knight. Some other people who knew right where to look.’

  ‘She … she must’ve told someone she was going. She….’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think the Explorer told them,’ said the Spider. Funny thing. Isn’t it?’

  Geroan disconnected without saying goodbye. Donatella Furz had evaded his assassin in Splash One. Had that attempt failed, perhaps, because Zimmy had said something to alert her? And had Zimmy sold information to Honeypeach Thonks? Information that was supposed to belong exclusively to Geroan? Perhaps Zimmy had outlived his usefulness.

  But then again … Zimmy was a very good web into the Northwest Priory. A very good web to Chase Random Hall. Not a bad bit of web, everything considered. Perhaps he merely needed a bit of discipline. Spider Geroan found a bit of discipline often did wonders. He considered this for a time, deciding what kind and amount of discipline might be most effective, until his next web called to report.