Stranglers moon, p.8
Stranglers' Moon, page 8
There was a certain repetition of clientele at these places, and after a couple of days of regular attendance Yvette learned most of the regulars by sight, and a couple by name.
She struck up casual conversations with them and managed to get her story across. It was impossible to tell who might be an agent of the conspiracy, so Yvette was ready to talk to anyone who showed even a casual interest in her.
Her gambling habits were quite simple-she stuck to card games exclusively. Her father and uncle were both masters at cards and she had sat in on many a hand late at night after the Circus had closed to the rubes, absorbing their knowledge and tricks. She knew any number of methods of cheating, but did not try them here; the house dealers were too sharp and Carmen Velasquez was not supposed to be a professional. She did, however, manage to come out a good distance ahead in the long run, and quickly earned a joking reputation among her newfound friends as a cardsharp.
"Where'd you ever learn to play like that?" one guy asked after she'd cleaned out his pockets one afternoon two weeks later.
"It sure as hell wasn't on Purity," said another fellow who had managed to retain at least some of his chips. Yvette allowed herself a demure blush. "After my late husband and I made our fortune and got ourselves kicked off Purity for being too concerned with matters temporal instead of spiritual, we resolved to learn all about the pleasant vices.
Gambling was Carlos' particular passion and he kept insisting that I play cards with him.
Unfortunately I was always better than he was, and it infuriated him when I won. He swore off gambling once for three whole weeks, he was so mad. I could take it or leave it alone, which only made him feel worse. I suppose....
"Carmen!" The call of a familiar voice rang out across the room, and Yvette looked up, a curious mixture of emotions churning through her system.
Card games usually took place in side rooms off the main gambling hall. These rooms were smaller and a bit less cramped, since most of the tourists preferred to lose their money quickly and impersonally at the machines and gaming tables. Cards were a comparatively slow and more involved method of gambling, and appealed only to a minority of the crowd.
Across this smaller room, hazy though it was with smoke, Yvette could see Dak Lehman making his way through the press of people towards her table. He must have spotted her from the doorway, she reasoned. The expression on his face as be came over to her was a combination of delight and concern.
"I thought for a while I'd never find you," he said as he finally reached her side. "I've been looking everywhere for you ever since we landed here. I was almost beginning to give up hope. It was as if Vesa had just swallowed you up or something.
Yvette cast him a startled glance. Does he know something about the disappearances? she wondered, scrutinizing his expression carefully. But no, there was nothing menacing or secretive there. It had obviously been a chance remark that meant more to her than it did to him. Recovering, she said offhandedly, "This is just such an incredible place it's easy to get lost. I'm sorry you had to go through such a hassle to find me.
"The only thing that matters is that I have found you," Dak replied earnestly. Then, looking around at the other people seated at Yvette's table, he continued in a lower voice, "Can we go somewhere to talk privately?
"I don't really think there's anyplace private on this entire moon," Yvette said, standing up and sweeping her winnings into her purse with one confident motion. "It's all so crowded I sometimes feel selfish when I shower by myself. But if we walk around the casino I don't think anyone'll overhear what we say.
Dak took her arm and escorted her out into the main casino area. The din out here was so loud that they practically had to shout in each other's ear to make themselves understood, but Yvette was right-the nearest thing to private was being in the middle of a noisy, uncaring crowd.
"You left me last time with an unanswered question between us," he said. "You told me you'd think about it, and that was several weeks ago. Have you come to any conclusions,.
Yvette looked away from him and took a long deep sigh before answering. "I don't want you to think I've been avoiding you these past weeks, because I haven't. I just haven't had the time to go actively looking for you." "That's an evasion, not an answer.
"I know. I can't give you the answer you want, I'm afraid. I find you a most attractive man, Dak, and there are more odd moments than rd care to mention when I have to snap myself out of a daydream about what it would be like married to you. But I just can't convince myself it would work. Putting aside all the romantic cliches about love conquering all, there are too many barriers in our way.
She explained about the physical problems stemming from their different planetary backgrounds, problems that would lead to either him being a cripple or her an exile. She could not, of course, tell him the real story about her family and her job; instead, she leaned heavily on her love for her dear departed Carlos and how she could not bring herself to "betray" him so soon after his-death. Dak's expression was grim as he listened to her speak, but he did not interrupt even once. She tried to finish with as soft a cushion as she could. "I love you, I really do. That goodnight kiss you gave me last time had me floating through the air on my way back to my suite, even in one gee. I'm not just saying this to make you feel better; it's the way I feel. But for all the reasons I've told you, plus a few personal ones, I don't think we could sustain a long-term relationship. We'll both be much better off if we break apart now, before our emotions get totally out of hand.
Dak scowled, and an angry gleam appeared in his eyes. He was not apparently used to being turned down in something he wanted. "I still love you, Carmen," he said evenly.
"Being apart from you these past few weeks has made my longing stronger, not weaker.
You say you love me, too. But your reasons for not wanting to marry me just don't hold air. We can overcome any problems we set our minds to. We both have a good deal of money, we can go back and forth between a heavy gravity world and a lighter one. I can buy machines to help me withstand your stronger gravity. I...
His voice had been rising with each sentence, until it took on an almost hysterical tone.
She raised a hand to silence him. "Dak, please, this is getting us nowhere.
He stopped, caught his breath, and then continued in a more reasonable tone, "Look I've been invited to a really swank party tonight. It's being given by one of the big shots on Vesa, a man named Garst. Why don't you come along with me and we can talk about this some more then? I'd be delighted to have your company, and....
"I don't think I'm getting through to you. It will not work between us, and all the talking you do will not make it work. No, I won't go with you tonight; there would be no point to it.
The anger dropped suddenly out of Dak, and he looked instead like a frightened little boy. "Don't drop me forever," he begged. There was a hint of tears in his eyes. "I really don't think I could take that, Carmen; you've be come too special to me. Please-if you won't come to the party then at least say you'll meet me tomorrow and we can visit some casinos together.
There was such an air of desperation to his voice that Yvette had to relent. She did love him, and it tore her up inside to see him so affected. "All right," she said softly, "I'll meet you tomorrow, but only for a little while. I have things to do myself, you know. Where and when do you want to meet?
"Right here at, say, eleven hundred." Dak's face bad brightened perceptibly at her sudden capitulation.
"All right," Yvette nodded. "But I have to be going for now; there are things I must do." She stood on her toes to reach up and kiss him, intending to give him only a slight peck.
But suddenly his arms were around her and the simple kiss was turning into far more passionate a thing than she had planned.
When finally they did part, she was feeling a little wobbly on her feet. "Whew. See you tomorrow," she said as she started to walk off.
"Don't be late," he called after her. As an afterthought, he added, "If you should need to get in touch with me for any reason, I'm staying at the Soyuz Hotel.
Yvette just barely heard him, for her keen senses were trained elsewhere at the moment. She had picked up a tail again-Murgatroyd. Apparently even this chance runin with Dak had been enough to set off the curiosity of that band that was so interested in Gospodin Lehman's welfare.
Yvette did not go straight back to her hotel as she'd intended. She had no way of knowing whether the trio who had ambushed her knew where she was staying on Vesa-but if they didn't know, she certainly didn't want to show them. In a concerted effort to lose her tail, Yvette went through the main halls of the three most crowded casinos she knew, changed jits repeatedly as she drove all over the tourist district of Vesa, and ducked into a ladies' room for over an hour before emerging with her houppelande over her arm to give her an entirely different appearance. There was no sign of Murgatroyd following her by this time so, realizing that she couldn't just keep wandering the moon all night, she decided to risk going back to her room.
Once inside, she bolted the door and pulled up a chair to sit facing it, just in case the shadows were to try another attack. She kept herself awake until early in the morning.
Chapter 7
A Meeting at the Warehouse
As he stared at the men from Chandakha, Jules realized that he was the only other person in the crew who had witnessed their deliberate murder of Rask. Everyone else was coming from the other side of the spacefield, and the body of the scraper machine had been interposed between them and the Chandakhari. As the rest of the group, led by Fizcono, now pulled up to the scene, all they would see was the dead body of their former comrade lying at the feet of the coterie of Chandakhari.
Jules thought quickly. He was the only one who knew the Chandakhari had murdered Rask with deliberate efficiency. But if they thought he knew that, he might become their next target. All in all, he decided to feign ignorance of exactly what happened. They must know he had seen them do it, but by pretending not to know he could plant some doubt in their minds.
So, just as Fizcono and the rest of the crew came around the corner of the scraper, he asked, "What happened to him?
Forakhi, the unofficial leader of the Chandakhari group, locked his gaze with that of Jules, as though trying to read the SOTE agent's soul. "We tried to hold him, but be was like a madman," Forakhi said slowly, his eyes never wavering. "We backed him up against the scraper, but he was squirming so much that he tore his suit on it." He was defying Jules to contradict him; Jules said nothing.
Fizcono knelt beside Rask's body and verified for himself that the man was dead. "More drapping reports to fill out!" he muttered savagely under his breath. Then, standing up and looking at the Chandakhari for a long moment, he said aloud, "I guess you men did the best you could, under the circumstances. You'll all have to write up your versions of what happened, of course; insurance companies are fussy about that sort of thing.
Then he turned specifically to Jules. "Nice work, duChamps. I can't recall ever seeing anyone move so fast and so well. Where did you learn all that, anyhow?
"I was on the gymnastics team in school," Jules lied smoothly. "Guess I've always kept myself pretty much in shape.
Fizcono accepted that story with a grunt and began issuing orders to have Rask's body taken back inside to the infirmary. The rest of the men he told to go back to work, though even he did not expect them to be able to accomplish much-not after the work day had started like this. Still, they were getting paid to do a job and it was his responsibility to see that they did it. He resigned himself to having his crew fall even farther behind in their work than they already were, and followed Rask's body back inside to answer the questions he knew the front office would ask.
To no one's surprise, the work that day went very lackadaisically. They loaded less than half of what they should have onto a departing freighter, much to the chagrin of the captain who bawled them out over the radio for dawdling when he had a schedule to keep. The men ignored his rantings and went on at their own speed, still stunned by what happened earlier.
Every so often, Jules would look up from his job to see one of the Chandakhari-notably Radapur or Forakhi -staring at him, as though trying to figure out what sort of a game he was playing. Jules pretended not to notice their attention and kept on with his work.
When the shift was finally over and everyone was unsuiting back in the locker room, Jules was surprised when Radapur, the young Chandakhar, actually came over to talk to him. "You saved my life out there," the lad said.
"Rask was going to kill me, and you were the only one who acted quickly enough to stop him.
"Somebody had to," Jules shrugged. Open displays of gratitude embarrassed him, and he hoped Radapur would not be too flowery about it.
"Nevertheless, it was you who did it." The youth held out his hand and Jules shook it vigorously. "I won't forget what you did for me. Maybe someday I'll have the chance to do a favor for you.
Jules was about to reply that such a thing was not necessary and that he would have done the same for anyone, but he didn't get the chance. Forakhi, with a whistle and a sharp look, called Radapur back to the Chandakhari group. As Jules watched, Forakhi spoke a few sharp words in the youth's ear, obviously admonishing him not to speak with anyone from outside their little clique. The lad cast one long look back over his shoulder at Jules, then returned to his group.
Everyone who was involved in the scuffle had to stay a little late in order to tape-record their versions of the story for the administration personnel. Forakhi and the rest of the Chandakhari were visibly chafing at this delay, as though they had some appointment to go to and were being kept from it. At last everyone was released and told to go home; but instead of following that advice, Jules chose to follow the Chandakhari instead.
They left the port building as a group and flagged down one of the roving jits. Jules cursed the haphazard transportation system of Vesa under his breath; he didn't want to let his quarries get away from him that simply. Fortunately, he was able to commandeer a jit directly behind theirs and, using the excuse that he and his friends bad gotten separated and he didn't have the address of where they were supposed to be going, he convinced the driver to follow the other jit. The large tip he handed the man probably did not hurt his cause, either.
They drove through a confusing maze of tunnels, changing direction so many times that Jules began to get worried that they knew he was following them. But they made no attempt to speed up or lose him on sharp turns, so he relaxed and guessed that they were only taking a precautionary route to their destination.
Finally the other jit stopped and the Chandakhari got out. Jules' driver had done such a good job of staying with them that he arrived almost right behind them, and Jules had to dawdle about getting out of the jit for fear that his quarries would spot him.
Actually, despite the long and complicated route they had taken, the Chandakhari had ended up at a point not too far distant from where they'd started. They were in the warehouse district where the goods unloaded from the incoming ships were stored before being distributed to the rest of Vesa. Jules emerged from his jit as the group he was following entered the front door of one warehouse.
Jules looked quickly around for another way into the building. He couldn't go in the same way the Chandakhari had, or he'd be spotted for sure. His sharp eyes instantly detected what he was looking for-a freight elevator tube beside the building. Structures on Vesa were built down rather than up, into the bedrock of the moon for sturdier support. Jules did not want to activate the elevator itself, for it might make some noise that would alarm the group he was pursuing; but the tube did have a series of handholds along its length for the use of repair crews, and Jules descended this ladder until he came to a service door in the wall. The door was locked, and he had to stand on a small ledge for two minutes experimenting with the various master keys he always carried with him before he could get it to open.
He found himself on the third level of the warehouse. The large room was dimly-lit and filled with row upon row of the large airtight crates that he was becoming all too familiar with. Apparently this was a section for storing goods that had not yet been unpacked.
Jules strained his ears, but could hear no sounds around him. Moving with a silence that would put a cat to shame, he eased his way into the warehouse, using the large containers as cover while he explored the aisles at this level. No one was here.
Now there was a choice to make. Should be go upward in search of his group and check out the top two levels, or should he go even further down? He decided down would be best; a group of conspirators would want to be as far from the front door as possible, to avoid being overheard by casual passersby.
Gently sloping ramps led from level to level, broad corridors for lift trucks and dollies to carry their loads. The ramps were possible points of exposure, since there was no place for him to hide on them, but short of chancing the elevator tube again they were his only method of getting from one level to the next. Stealthily he crept downward to the fourth level, only to find it, too, deserted. On the fifth level, however, he struck paydirt.
He could hear the low muttering of voices when he was halfway down the ramp, and he slowed his pace at once. Hugging tightly to the wall he slithered down to the floor level and behind the protective cover of some half-opened crates. From here, he was able to pick his way slowly forward until he had a clear view of the entire scene.
The lighting on this level was as dim as throughout the rest of the warehouse, but Jules' eyes were by this time accustomed to the weak light. A large space had been cleared throughout the center of the floor, and along one semicircular section of the area sat a group of perhaps thirty men. The first thing Jules noticed was that they all seemed to be Chandakhari; all of them had the swarthy complexion and straight black hair that marked the racial type, although some of the men were old enough that their hair was predominantly gray. Jules was startled to see men in their fifties and possibly even sixties sitting in that group, though the majority of the people were late thirties to early forties. Radapur, the lad from Jules' work crew, was the youngest one there.
