Eros at Zenith: Book 2 of Tales of the Velvet Comet (18 page)

CAN YOU ACCEPT AN INTRA-SHIP COMMUNICATION, OR SHALL I TELL THE CALLER TO WAIT UNTIL YOU ARE OFF-DUTY?

“Nothing much is happening,” replied Crane. “You might as well patch it through.”

Suddenly the Black Pearl's image appeared before him.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Crane.”

“Good afternoon,” he replied, wondering if the computer were monitoring his pulse and heartbeat.

“I wonder if you could stop by my office in the next ten minutes or so?” she asked.
"Alone."

He hated to think of what that last word had done to his blood pressure.

“Why?” he said at last.

“There's someone here who very much wants to make your acquaintance,” answered the Black Pearl.

“Oh? Who?”

“His name is Quintus Bello.”

A two-way intercom system clicked on as Crane stood before the Black Pearl's door, waiting for it to open.

“Are you armed?” asked the madam.

“No.”

There was a momentary pause.

“Cupid, is he armed?”

Another pause.

“You lied to me, Mr. Crane,” said the Black Pearl, sounding less than surprised. “Cupid tells me that you have a pistol hidden on your person. You'll have to get rid of it before I let you in.”

“Thanks a lot, pal,” muttered Crane. He walked to the end of the corridor, signaled to a nearby security man, and handed the pistol over to him, simultaneously ordering him to remain in the general vicinity of the Black Pearl's office.

He then walked back to the door.

“All right,” he said.

“Has he gotten rid of it, Cupid?” she asked. Evidently the computer confirmed his status, for a moment later the door slid into the wall and Crane stepped into the Black Pearl's office.

“Where is he?” demanded the detective.

“He's in with my Night Crystals,” she replied calmly. “I'll call him out in a moment.”

“What the hell are Night Crystals?”

“That's not important,” said the Black Pearl. “What
is
important is that we reach an understanding before I let you talk to Bello.”

“What kind of understanding?” he asked suspiciously.

“Nobody knows he's on the
Comet
. I want it to stay that way.”

“Fine. He won't be on it that long, anyway. I'll have him back on Deluros inside of four hours.”

“No, you won't,” she said firmly. “Nobody's arresting anyone until
I
decide its necessary.”

“
What?
” he exploded. “Do you know who he is?”

“And what he's done,” she replied, nodding her head. “But I have the distinct impression that you've been holding out on me, Mr. Crane.”

“In what way?”

“I don't know, but I don't think he would be here if it weren't for you.” She frowned. “You arranged to bring a very notorious man aboard
my
ship without telling me.”

“Then let me take him right back off,” urged Crane.

“I haven't made up my mind yet.”

“Damn it—you're talking about a genocidal maniac!”

“I'm talking about the welfare of the
Comet
, which is the only thing that matters to me. I don't give a damn what Quintus Bello did or didn't do on New Sumatra. Now, do we have a deal or not?”

He glared at her for a moment, then shrugged and nodded tersely.

“That means yes?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Cupid, is he telling the truth?”

I AM NOT A LIE DETECTOR. HIS PULSE AND HEARTBEAT ARE VERY RAPID, BUT WHILE THAT COULD INDICATE HE IS LYING, IT MIGHT MERELY BE A MANIFESTATION OF HIS SEXUAL DESIRE FOR YOU.

“I'm going to kill that fucking machine!” muttered Crane, shifting his weight uneasily under the Black Pearl's amused gaze. Finally he stopped glaring at the screen and turned to her. “Well?” he said.

“I want you to put this meeting on your Priority File,” she answered.

“You named your conditions, and I agreed to them. That wasn't one of them.”

“I don't want the Security Department knowing about Bello's presence here.”

“Well, I want the Dragon Lady to know. I'll put this on the Priority File only if I can access it for her later today.”

She nodded. “All right.”

He turned to the screen.

“Cupid, you back-stabbing son of a bitch—are you awake?”

YES.

“Has anyone been monitoring this conversation?”

NO.

“Put everything that's said in this office in my Priority File, and make it retroactive to the moment the Black Pearl contacted me in my suite.”

WORKING ... DONE.

“Also, where's Pagliacci right now?”

PAGLIACCI IS CURRENTLY PERFORMING IN THE NIGHTCLUB.

Crane turned back to the Black Pearl. “All right,” he said.

She walked to a door at the back of the office, commanded it to open, said something he couldn't hear, and then stood aside as Quintus Bello entered the room.

He stood five feet nine inches, but appeared a bit smaller. His hair was white and thinning, his eyes blue-green, his nose straight and a bit oversized, his chin prominent and thrust forward. He walked with an erect, almost military, bearing, and carried very little excess flesh. His outfit identified him as a cargo hand from one of the freighters that brought the
Comet
's kitchens their daily supply of fresh food from Deluros VIII.

“Mr. Crane?” he said in a voice that was deeper than Crane had expected.

“That's right,” said Crane, eyeing him warily.

“I suspect that you are the man who caused Esteban to send for me.”

“What makes you think so?”

“Because I hadn't been on the ship for two minutes before I realized that Esteban Morales had either been tricked or forced into sending that message.”

“You were supposed to meet him in the Mall?” asked Crane.

“At any rate,” continued Bello, ignoring his remark, “the moment I knew that I had been duped, I determined that the madam of the ship would be the one person most likely to provide some form of asylum, and I immediately made my way here.”

“What made you think she'd give you protection?”

A tiny smile flashed across Bello's face. “Come now, Mr. Crane,” he said. “If you were bright enough to lure me up here, then surely you are bright enough to know why it is in the madam's best interest that I be allowed to go my own way.”

“True,” said Crane. “But I'm not the madam.”

“So now we come to the crux of it,” said Bello. “For what purpose am I here?”

“You're an escaped felon who has been convicted of genocide,” said Crane. “Why do
you
suppose I tricked you up here?”

“I tell you now, Mr. Crane,” said Bello in level tones, “that I will never submit to capture or imprisonment again.”

“That, Mr. Bello,” said Crane, “is a point of some debate.”

“None,” said Bello firmly. “I surrendered to the authorities fifteen years ago, and they betrayed me.”

“Possibly because you betrayed 11,000 citizens who were under your protection,” remarked Crane caustically.

“I did
not
—and no jury of my peers would ever convict me!”

“Probably not,” agreed Crane.

Bello looked surprised. “Then you know the story?”

Crane shook his head. “No, but I imagine any jury composed of genocidal maniacs is pretty likely to let you off the hook.”

Bello stared at him for a long moment, his face an inscrutable mask. Finally he spoke.

“Sit down, Mr. Crane.”

“Only if you will,” said Crane. “And I've got to sit closer to the door.”

Bello nodded, and walked to one of the sofas.

Suddenly he turned to the Black Pearl, who had been standing silently by the doorway leading to her Night Crystals. “Won't you please join us?”

“Why not?” she said with a shrug.

Bello moved over to make room for her, but she walked to Crane's sofa instead.

“I may save your neck,” she said, “but I'd rather not sit next to you.”

Bello nodded, seated himself, and waited for Crane to do the same. Then he leaned forward at stared intently at the detective.

“What, exactly, do you know about New Sumatra, Mr. Crane?” he said at last.

“I know that you were the governor of the planet for seven years, I know that some kind of mutated virus came along and started wiping out colonists by the thousands, I know that they finally developed a vaccine to cure the disease—and I know that you ordered air strikes on two hospital camps just before the vaccine arrived, killing more than 11,000 citizens whose welfare you were there to protect.”

“And that is the extent of your knowledge?” said Bello.

“Just the highlights,” said Crane. He ordered the computer to give a complete readout on the Bello Affair.

Bello watched emotionlessly, as the details of the affair appeared on the screen, then turned back to Crane when the computer had finally emptied its library banks on the subject.

“As I suspected,” he said. “Half-truths and misinterpretations, nothing more.”

“There's a native of New Sumatra onboard the ship right now who will be only too happy to corroborate what you just read,” remarked Crane.

“I'm sure he will,” said Bello.

“Are you saying that the computer's account of what happened isn't true?” asked the Black Pearl.

“It's entirely true,” said Bello. He paused. “As I pointed out at my trial, it's also completely wrong.”

“You don't find that just a little inconsistent?” asked Crane.

“What do
you
know of it?” exploded Bello. “You weren't there! The disease was decimating the colony. 12,000 people were already dead, and 11,000 more were dying!”

“Are you trying to say that this was a mercy killing?” asked Crane incredulously.

“No!” said Bello impatiently, the muscles in his jaw twitching spasmodically. “It was a decision that was made to benefit the greatest number of people!”

“Perhaps you'd care to explain how killing 11,000 colonists benefited anyone,” said Crane.

“The virus was airborne, wildly contagious, and absolutely fatal,” said Bello, his eyes fixed on some spot in space and time that only he could see. “Very few people who contracted it lived more than 20 days, and most of them died hideous deaths; no drug we possessed could alleviate the excruciating pain of the final few days.” He paused and sighed heavily. “We did everything we could, but we couldn't come up with a cure. The best we could do was try to contain it. I moved all the sick into two huge hospital camps, and put lethal electric fencing around it. Most of the doctors volunteered to keep working in the camps, since they had already been exposed to the disease.” His voice softened. “And then we got word that someone on Sirius V had isolated the virus and developed an antidote. It was rushed into production and shipped out to us. The trip was supposed to take 15 days.”

He fell silent for a moment, still staring blankly into space, then focused his eyes on Crane.

“Four days before the ship was due to arrive, we lost all radio contact with it. 36 hours later the Republic decided that it had broken down, and immediately dispatched another ship loaded with the antidote, on the assumption that it would take them too much time to find a ship that had malfunctioned at light speeds and whose cargo might well be beyond salvage.”

He paused once more, searching Crane's face for some emotion, but finding none.

“Every shred of information I possessed convinced me that we could expect no help for another two weeks,” he continued. “As far as I could see, not a single person in the hospital camps would survive until the arrival of the second ship—but the longer they lived, the more likelihood there was that we couldn't continue to contain the disease. No matter how isolated the camps were, they had to be supplied with food and medication. Sooner or later the thing had to start spreading again, so I carried out the proper procedure: I sacrificed those who were already lost in order to save the remainder of the colony.”

There was a moment's silence.

“And then the ship arrived,” said Crane.

Bello nodded. “Two days later.” He frowned. “Their communications system had gone out.”

“But they arrived,” repeated Crane.

“Damn it!” snapped Bello. “No one could pick them up on sensing devices, and even the Republic pronounced them lost and presumed dead!”

“But they weren't.”

“No, they weren't,” agreed Bello angrily. “But I did what I had to do. I made the prescribed decision to achieve the greatest good—and given the information I had, I'd do it again!”

“It sounds reasonable,” said the Black Pearl. “Why didn't the jury acquit you?”

“Because the Republic needed a scapegoat after news of what happened got out,” said Bello. “And like a fool, I expected justice at their hands and gave myself up.”

“And escaped,” Crane pointed out.

“Not without help,” said Bello. “Not without the aid of people who knew I'd been unjustly accused and convicted.” He took a deep breath, released it slowly, and stared defiantly at Crane. “I won't go back, not until you can find a jury of twelve military governors who understand what the situation was.”

“Military?” asked Crane, surprised.

Bello nodded. “There had been some initial trouble with the native population.”

“During your tenure?”

“Long before I got there,” replied Bello. “They were pacified, but it was felt that a military presence was necessary to remind them to leave human beings alone.” He grimaced. “Wouldn't you know those little red bastards were totally immune to the disease!”

“You should have demanded a military trial,” said Crane.

“I did. My request was refused, and the transcript of my trial was never released.”

“Well, you can try again this time,” said Crane.

“You still plan to arrest me?” asked Bello, unsurprised.

“I'm not a judge or a jury; I'm just a detective. You're an escaped felon who by his own admission killed 11,000 innocent men and women.”

“11,000
doomed
men and women,” Bello corrected him.

“That's not the way it turned out,” replied Crane.

“I made my decision based on the best information I possessed,” said Bello. “I won't apologize for it.”

“Have I asked you to?”