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Authors: Alan Dean Foster

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BOOK: Flinx's Folly
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“We’re up in the mountains, Clarity. No need to know which mountains. This retro cabin is a loan from an old friend of mine. It’s fully equipped, designed to blend harmoniously with its surroundings, and quite isolated. You’ll be safe here.”

“Safe?” She frowned. “Safe from what? Untie me, Bill.”

“In due time. Until then, it can’t be comfortable for you, standing like that. Why don’t you sit back down?”

She gaped at him, then realized he had no intention of releasing her. Slowly, keeping her eyes on him, she worked her way back to the couch.

“There, that’s better, isn’t it?” he cooed once she had managed to sit down. She knew that tone well. Or thought she did. Now, she was no longer sure she knew anything at all about William Ormann.

“It depends. Why won’t you untie me?”

He moved toward the food storage cabinet. “You might do something foolish. You might hurt yourself. You might hurt me.”

“Under the circumstances, I don’t think I can deny that. What’s going on, Bill?”

“Something to drink?” He poured himself a glass of pale-blue liquid that quickly chilled itself. Humorous faces jelled and dissolved within the fluid, an amusing sales element devised by the drink company’s packaging department.

“Maybe later. When I can hold my own glass. Why would you think I might hurt myself? Or do something foolish? You’ve known me for more than a year, Bill. I’m not one to do foolish things.”

“I used to think that, too.” He set the half-drained glass aside and eyed her intently. Scrap was beginning to show the first signs of agitation. “Then your old friend arrived, seeking your help, and you began spending more and more of your free time with him. I think I was pretty patient, considering. Then more and more of your free time turned into
all
your free time. We hardly see each other anymore.”

She stared at him. As she stared, she struggled with her wrist bonds. “Is
that
what this is all about? Have you lost your mind, Bill?”

“No, but I’m not so sure about you.”

Leaning back into the overstuffed couch, a clever reproduction from humankind’s primitive past, she rolled her eyes imploringly toward the ceiling. “Bill, I’ve explained this over and over. Philip has problems and no one to talk them over with. That’s why he came here, to see me. Because we’re old acquaintances and he trusts me to listen to him. That’s what I’ve been doing: listening.” She met his gaze evenly. “That’s all.”

“I’d like to believe that. I really would, Clarity.” His expression darkened slightly. “Just talk. With this harmless old acquaintance of yours, who still thinks kindly of you even after six years have passed.”

“That’s right,” she replied defiantly. Her wrists and ankles were throbbing. “Just talk.”

Walking over to an old-fashioned bookcase filled with facsimiles of ancient tomes, Ormann removed a modern read pad and switched it on. “I’ve been doing some research, and I’ve had others helping. Let me tell you a few things about your good old harmless friend Philip Lynx that you may not be aware of, Clarity.”

I never said he was harmless, she thought. “I can hardly cover my ears to keep from hearing, Bill.”

“Understand, Clarity, that I’m doing this for your own good. For our good.”

“If it’s for my own good,” she snapped back, “then why do my wrists and ankles hurt so much?”

For a moment she thought he was going to free her. However, he turned instead to the pad he was holding. “The enigmatic Mr. Lynx has access to funds whose origins are so far untraceable, though I have people working on it. That, coupled with the fact that he arrived in his own ship, suggests that he derives his income from possibly illegal sources. He claims that he survives on an inheritance but is deliberately evasive about its origin.”

“His ship
was
a gift,” she muttered.

“Really?” Ormann’s tone was mocking. “Somebody just
gave
him a starship.”

“It was several somebodies—but, yes.”

“Who?”

Sighing heavily, she turned away from his demanding stare. “I can’t tell you that.”

Lips tightening, he nodded, as if her refusal was explanation enough. “Philip Lynx is also wanted by the Commonwealth for several violations. The list of these is not long, but it is impressive.” He glanced at the readout on his pad. “Violation of shell and box security on Earth. On Earth, no less! Refusal to heed an order to stay in Terran space. Illegal visitation of not one but two worlds Under Edict. Assaulting a female security officer—”

“That’s a lie!” She twisted violently on the couch. “He would never hurt anyone unless they attacked him first.”

A nasty smirk played over Ormann’s face. It made him look less the handsome, successful executive and more like an antique ventriloquist’s dummy. “That’s not what the deposition of the security guard claims.” He shut off the pad. “Even if your friend was as you describe him when you knew him, how do you know he hasn’t changed? Six years is a long time. People sour, develop hatreds. Go bad.”

“Is that the kind of person you’ve met?” she challenged him.

He drew himself up slightly. “Actually, I haven’t been much interested in getting to know Lynx. If it wasn’t for your interest in him—and his obvious interest in you—he would pass completely beneath my notice. Forget the security guard for a moment. What about the other charges? How do they square with the person you claim as an old friend?”

How much could she say? How much could she admit to that would extricate her from her present predicament without compromising Flinx’s safety and status on New Riviera? Was Ormann being malicious or simply jealous?

“I know that Flinx has had some run-ins with authority. Given the life he’s led, something of the sort was probably inevitable. But I’m sure he had good reasons for everything he did.”

Ormann gawked at her—the woman he expected to marry and bear his children. “You
know
about these violations?” Clearly he had expected his revelations of Flinx’s wrongdoings to anger or disconcert her. That they had not unsettled him. “And you haven’t reported him, have continued to see and counsel him?”

She remained defiant. “He needs help, not incarceration. Whatever he’s done, I know there was a valid rationale for it. And despite what your little spy report may claim, I know that he’d never harm so much as a worm without good cause.” Outside, the sila langeur sang on, but now its trill was drowned out by Ormann’s outrage.

“This is insane! How can you believe that? The man’s a fugitive, not an abandoned child!” He took a step toward her and she nearly flinched. “What
is
this, Clarity? What has this man done to you?” His voice fell, became at once more cautious and more compassionate. “That’s it, isn’t it? He’s
done
something to you—affected you with more than just talk.”

“Now who’s talking crazy?” she argued. Ironically, she knew that had he wished to do so, Flinx could have done exactly what Ormann was hinting at. He had promised her he would not. So he hadn’t—had he? The twists and turns in the conversation were starting to make her dizzy.

Ormann took her reaction as confirmation. “Now I understand. And believe me, Clarity, it’s a relief to know you’re not responsible for what’s been happening. All we have to do now is figure out what he’s done to you and how, and then reverse the effects.” He fell into deep thought. “Some kind of drug, applied subtly enough so that you wouldn’t know it was influencing you. Or maybe aural mesmerics. Certainly hypnotics of some kind must be involved.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Bill, he hasn’t done anything to me! I’m the same person. I’m just trying to
help
him.”

“Of course you are.” Ormann now spoke to her in the soothing tone one would use when addressing an idiot. “That’s exactly how he would want you to think. I was proceeding on the assumption that he was evil. Now I see it’s much more insidious than that.” He smiled reassuringly. “But don’t worry. I’ll take care of it, Clarity. Once he’s been dealt with, whatever he’s been using on you, dousing you with, will cease, and you’ll recover your senses.” The more relieved he looked, the more alarmed Clarity became.

“Bill, all I can tell you is that you’ve got this whole thing backward. Whatever I’m doing, right or wrong, I’m doing of my own free will. I haven’t been mesmerized, drugged, or brainwashed. I’m the same person I was before Philip came here. And I know that Flinx is the same person I knew six years ago. More mature, more knowledgeable but the same person. We just, well, we just connect on a certain level.”

“Is that a fact? Something special between the two of you, is it? Naturally he’d want you to think that.” He approached to within arm’s length and crouched down, so his face was on a level with hers. “Why don’t you tell me more about this special connection?”

She searched his face. This was not the William Ormann she had known for over a year, the one whom she had contemplated marrying. The man squatting before her was obsessed. She considered pointing out again that her friendship with Flinx was purely platonic, but she suspected than even an allusion to the possibility of a physical relationship between them would add to Ormann’s paranoia. Besides, it wasn’t true.

“I—I can’t tell you, exactly. It’s just a feeling.”

“I see. A feeling. You have a
feeling
about this Lynx. A feeling about an accused criminal who—according to what I’ve been able to learn about him—is capable of extensive and highly sophisticated manipulation of sensitive information and those in charge of it. Not to mention strong individual personalities. And this doesn’t trouble you. Because you and he
connect
on a certain level. What level is that, Clarity? Hypnosis? Mind-altering drugs slipped into your drink? That would certainly constitute a connection.”

What else could she say? she thought. How could she convince him that he was wrong about Flinx without giving away her friend’s secrets? Telling the truth was out of the question. For one thing, it would cause him to realize that Flinx could read his emotions. She knew Bill Ormann well enough to know how he would react to
that
.

The longer she remained silent, the grimmer his expression became. Finally he rose, looming over her. Scrap was now thrashing around violently, beating his wings and tail against the transparent barrier, frantic to get out. Clarity tensed. But Ormann intended her no harm. He loved her. All he wanted to do, since she was so obviously sick, was to make her well again. To remove the poison the interloper had somehow planted in her mind.

“I could simply report him to the local authorities and let them deal with him,” he murmured. “I’m sure they’d be delighted to know that there’s an important fugitive in their midst.”

“What do you mean, important?” Anything, she thought, to get his mind off such a course of action. “Philip has never harmed anyone. He’s not a murderer, or an extortionist, or an embezzler.”

“Are you sure? You’ve told me yourself that he bemuses and puzzles you. Who knows what this Philip Lynx may really be or what he may be capable of?”

Not Flinx, she told herself. He’s as much in the dark as anyone. That’s the reason he’s here talking to me.

“Turning him over to the authorities won’t help anybody,” she insisted desperately. To her surprise, Ormann agreed with her.

“You’re absolutely right, my dear. I know from personal experience how our purportedly sophisticated legal system works, and someone with Lynx’s resources might easily buy his way out of trouble. Since I would dislike seeing that happen, I’ve decided
not
to inform the authorities. I’ll continue to deal with the situation myself.”

She tensed. “What does that mean?”

He frowned as he started for the door. “Why, I’d think it pretty straightforward. Unusual problems require unusual solutions. Rest assured I’ll come up with one and that no harm will come to you.”

“You don’t know what you’re getting into, Bill. You don’t have any idea what you’re dealing with. There’s more to Flinx than what you see on the surface.”

The door opened, framing her former paramour—and it was now definitely “former,” she had already decided—against the blue sky and scudding white clouds.

“Wasn’t that what I was just saying? Which is why I’ve decided to be very, very careful when next I move against him. I didn’t get to be where I am, Clarity, without learning how to deal with excessive pride. I’m not afraid to learn from my lessons, and where this Lynx person is concerned, I’ve already had to absorb a few. I think I know what to do now. I’ll deal appropriately with him.” His gaze wandered to the container on the kitchen table. “And his lethal pet.

“Don’t worry, Clarity. This will all be over soon. And when it is, you and I can pick up right where we left off. It’ll be just like before. I’ll be back soon. Meanwhile, just sit tight.” He could not resist laughing at his own wit.

“You’re going to die, Bill Ormann!” She didn’t say how because she didn’t know. Though this morning’s events had left her emotionally divorced from him, she still didn’t want to see him dead. Chastised, maybe, but not dead. Though Ormann was smart, experienced in his own way, ruthless in pursuit of a goal, that would not help him against Flinx.

As she knew, those who went hunting for Flinx all too often found themselves dead.

CHAPTER

12

The message that arrived at the hotel was rambling but unambiguous. William Ormann did not like Flinx. He especially did not like what Flinx had done to Ormann’s relationship with Clarity Held. She was not to blame, but it had become clear to Ormann that Flinx, through unknown means, had twisted the vulnerable mind of Ormann’s beloved. This was a condition that could with time and appropriate therapy doubtless be cured. Meanwhile, the message warned Flinx to keep away from them both and that it would be better for his health if he were to leave New Riviera as quietly and as soon as possible.

As a warning, it had no effect. Flinx had been threatened by and had subsequently dealt with perils rather more extensive than those posed by a single aggravated, jealous executive. Even so, he did not underestimate Ormann. Not after having already found himself abducted once. He never underestimated anyone, or any danger. It was the hallmark of, among other things, a successful thief. His real concern was for Clarity. To Flinx’s practiced eye, the tone of Ormann’s communication suggested a mind increasingly clouded by envy and fear: a combination that, despite Ormann’s protestations of love, could pose as much a danger to her as to him.

BOOK: Flinx's Folly
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