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, lovely. 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
