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doctor and a masseur on the way if you like, sir. But we'd have to leave now."
Navarre looked at the sprawled body and hesitated.
"Should we leave this behind?"
"No one will disturb it, I'm sure.'*
The lieutenant seemed to make his mind up. "Very well," he said, "I'll do as
you advise."
Calvin gave a graceful, assenting bow. "Very good, sir."
Lieutenant Navarre removed his torn shirt and donned another. He looked at the
selection of jackets he'd placed on his couch and paused.
Calvin spoke up. "If I may suggest, sir?"
"By all means."
"The white mourning jacket. Very suitable."
"Thank you, Calvin." Lieutenant Navarre drew on the jacket. Calvin helped lace
him in, checking the jacket for weapons or hidden cameras as he did so.
"Shall we leave then, Calvin?"
"As you like, sir."
Lieutenant Navarre picked up his mourning cloak and carried it up the stair.
Calvin followed on silent cat feet.
Navarre activated the house security systems as he left and stepped out onto
the roof.
"Thank you, Calvin. For everything."
Calvin opened the door of the heavy Jefferson-Singh limo. "It was nothing,
sir. All in a day's work."
CHAPTER 11
Countess Anastasia watched on vid as Drake Maijstral stepped out of the
Jefferson-Singh flier and into Nichole's arms. She noticed he was carrying a
small bag. "Damn!"
Her fist thudded into the arm of her stiff-backed wooden chair. The cigaret
she was holding flung ashes onto a six-hundred-year-oid carpet. A robot
hastened to clean them up.
"We'll never get him out of there!" Her High Khosali parsing indicated
near-apocalyptic frustration. "He's prob-
ably carrying the Imperial Relic in that bag."
Baron Sinn nodded philosophically. "The next move seems to be Maijstral's, my
lady."
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The Countess ground her teeth. "I like it not. Baron."
Baron Sinn liked it less. This meant he was going to be trapped in this house
with an angry, restless Countess for a very long time. Perhaps he should give
her a chance to work off her anger.
"Croquet, my lady?" he suggested, dooming himself to a day of chasing his ball
beneath the kibble trees.
Her answer, tongue lolling, seemed the smile of a fiend.
Safely in Nichole's suite with Calvin and his associates on guard, Lieutenant
Navarre toggled off the hologram of
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190 / WALTER JON WILLIAMS
Drake Maijstral. Nichole laughed and offered her hand.
Navarre gallantly sniffed her wrist, ignoring a persistent twinge of his
bruised back.
"You looked very like Maijstral, dressed in mourning,"
she said. "I'm pleased to see you. Lieutenant."
"The pleasure," said Navarre, "is all mine." He was speaking the truth- He was
thoroughly gratified to discover that he felt very safe here.
Maijstra! turned off the vid and realaxed in his chair, happy. Nichole knew
how to carry off a deception, and her foil, whoever he was, had played his
part well, even to the duplicate of the diamond Maijstral wore on his finger.
A robot rattled past on an errand, making its usual bleeping noises. Maijstral
clenched his teeth, then calmed himself. He was learning to hate the robots,
but now was not the time for irritation. It was time to put forward his plan.
Tvi watched the vid with interest. She turned to the robot. "Bring up another
bottle of the cabemet. The forty-
four, if you please."
"Yes, madam."
Since her flight from the Anastasia residence she'd done fairly well. The
first thing was to dump the Dewayne
Seven and steal a new Jefferson-Singh Hi-Sport. Since she'd arrived on Peleng,
she'd got used to them.
Then she'd found a place to hide out. It was a comfort-
able house of twelve room, apparently inhabited by a family whose interests
took them to Nana for half the year.
The household security was ancient and it had been child's play to reprogram
it to treat her as a member of the family.
Now she'd have to find a way to earn a living. She sipped cabemet and thought
about it.
THE CROWN JEWELS I 191
Stealing seemed like a good idea.
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She smiled. Life on Peleng was looking up. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]