Prophet (25 page)

The goddamned Iceman thought of everything, and although he was undoubtedly right, Lomax couldn't stop feeling furious with him.

He faded in and out of consciousness for the next day, and finally awoke with a start when his computer signaled him that it had received permission to land on Pollux IV. He radioed ahead for medical service, was transferred to an ambulance and raced to a nearby medical center, and two days later, his arm bound in sterile packing and his blood count back to normal, he took off again.

He had no idea where the Anointed One was, but he contacted Korbekkian on Olympus via a scrambled channel, and was told that his leader was currently ensconced in a fortress on the desert world of Beta Stromberg, known locally as New Gobi. He loaded the coordinates into his computer, ate a light meal, and slept most of the way there. Once in orbit he used the secret frequency Korbekkian had given him to announce his presence, and a few moments later was directed to land at a small field on the equator.

He emerged from his ship into the incredibly hot sunlight, and felt a momentary dizziness as he carried his duffel bag to the tiny customs station, where he was immediately given a tall container of water and some salt tablets.

"It takes getting used to,” confided one of the guards.

"No more than hell does, I'll wager,” muttered Lomax, downing the water and a pair of tablets.

The guard laughed at that. “No bet,” he said.

Lomax looked around, shading his eyes from the sun with his good hand.

"What now?” he asked.

"Come with me,” said the guard, leading him off to a groundcar. “He's waiting for you."

"He is?"

"You're a hero, Gravedancer,” said the guard. “He sent a lot of men out after the Iceman. You're the one who succeeded."

"You people know about that already?"

"Not much happens that the Anointed One doesn't know about,” answered the guard as they climbed into the machine. He ordered the ignition to activate, and suddenly Lomax felt a life-giving cold breeze hit him from all directions. “Better?” asked the guard.

"Much,” answered Lomax. “I may never get out."

The guard laughed again, and sped off along a narrow tract of ground that differed from the rest of the surrounding area only in that it possessed tire marks. They drove for about ten miles, circled an immense sand dune, and suddenly were confronted by an enormous fortress, capable of housing at least three thousand men.

"You guys didn't build
this
on the spur of the moment,” remarked Lomax, studying the building, a huge, angular structure with tight molecular bonding that made the relatively thin walls almost impervious to attack.

"No,” answered the guard. “It was standing here, deserted, when we first arrived a few years ago. Evidently there was a native race that resented Man's presence a few centuries ago. There are maybe two dozen fortresses like this all over the planet."

"And the native race?"

"Gone."

"What's so important about New Gobi that we had to kill off an entire race to possess it?” asked Lomax curiously.

"Beats me,” said the guard. “Probably just because it was here."

Lomax nodded. “Sounds about right."

"Well,” said the guard, “we might as well go in."

"It'd damned well better be climate-controlled,” said Lomax as he reluctantly got out of the groundcar's cool compartment.

"It probably wouldn't bother the Anointed One if it wasn't,” confided the guard. “He's totally beyond such mundane concerns as physical comfort. But he understands that the rest of us have human weaknesses and limitations, and he takes care of his followers."

"That means it's cool inside?” asked Lomax as the sun bore down upon his head and neck.

"Right."

"Then let's hurry,” said Lomax, increasing his pace.

They reached the heavily-guarded entrance, and were passed through without question. The guard turned Lomax over to a pair of men in military uniforms, then left and began driving back to the spaceport. The two men accompanied Lomax down a long, high-ceilinged corridor until they came to a pair of ornate double doors.

"He's inside,” said one of the men. “You're to go in alone."

"Thanks."

"You know the procedure?” asked the other.

"Well enough to get by,” answered Lomax.

The man stared at him but offered no comment, and a moment later the two doors swung open just enough for Lomax to pass through them, then silently closed behind him.

Moses Mohammed Christ was on his self-styled throne, wearing the white robe and gold chain that seemed to be his trademark. His alien feline carnivore lay at his feet, as always.

"Welcome back, Mr. Lomax,” he said, a smile of greeting crossing his ascetic face. “You have done well."

"Thank you, My Lord,” said Lomax, approaching to within fifteen feet of him, then stopping as the carnivore's muscles began tensing.

"I understand that you did not emerge unscathed,” continued the Anointed One.

"Not quite,” said Lomax. He gestured to his left arm, which was hanging limp at his side. “The medics say that I'll be as good as new in three or four weeks."

"That's excellent news,” said the Anointed One. “I would hate to lose the services of the man who killed Carlos Mendoza.” He paused. “The remainder of your fee has been deposited in your account, as we agreed."

"I never doubted that it would be,” said Lomax. “Everyone knows you are a man of your word, My Lord."

The Anointed One leaned forward. “Tell me about your adventure, Mr. Lomax."

"There's nothing much to tell, My Lord. I insulted him, he lost his temper, and I killed him. It was just another day's work."

"You're too modest, Mr. Lomax,” said the Anointed One. “I sent five men to Last Chance ahead of you. Why did you succeed when they failed?"

"It's like I told you when we first met, My Lord,” said Lomax. “I'm the best there is."

"And how did you escape? Surely the Iceman had bodyguards, men posted around his establishment."

You're a sharp son of a bitch, aren't you?
thought Lomax wryly.
You've heard the story from at least one confederate, and you still smell a rat.

Aloud he said: “Partly it was the element of surprise, My Lord. The Iceman and I were old acquaintances, and his men probably weren't expecting anything. Also, I was positioned right by the front door, so I could make a quick exit."

"Surely they could recover their composure and shoot more rapidly than you could move out the door,” suggested the Anointed One.

"I knew that his men were stationed in the casino and behind a one-way mirror that hung over the bar,” answered Lomax. “I waited until enough patrons were blocking their view before I precipitated his attack on me.” He paused. “It takes a long time to tell, but it was over in just a couple of seconds."

"And how did you make it to your ship, as badly wounded as you were?"

"I had a vehicle waiting outside,” lied Lomax.

"That was a most remarkable escape,” commented the Anointed One.

"Look,” said Lomax heatedly, “if you think I'm lying, you can check with Last Chance; they'll confirm that the Iceman's dead. And you can check with the hospital on Pollux IV; they're the ones who patched me up."

"I already have,” said the Anointed One.

Lomax stared at him. “Well, then?"

"I have a fondness for tales of derring-do,” said the Anointed One with a smile.

"As long as you keep paying for them, I'll keep giving you new ones,” said Lomax.

Am I doing it right? Did I get too mad too soon? Should I have been so defensive? Damn it, Iceman, I wish you were here. You're a hell of a lot better at lying and double-dealing than I am ... and this is one smart bastard, this Anointed One. Almost as smart as you.

"You shall have ample opportunity to,” said the Anointed One. “I have already selected your next target."

I'll just bet you have.

"But until you are fully healed, you will remain here on New Gobi with me.” He paused. “I have long needed a man of your capabilities, Mr. Lomax. I think we shall have a long and fruitful relationship."

"I hope so, My Lord."

"If you are loyal to me, and fulfill your assignments, you can become one of the most powerful men in the galaxy."

"I can live with that, My Lord,” said Lomax, forcing a smile to his face.

"I am sure that you can.” The Anointed One paused and stared at him intently. “But if you betray my trust, I can promise you a death such as few men have ever experienced."

Lomax returned his stare.
He doesn't want to impress me with that. If he could scare me, I'm not the man he's seeking.

"Save your threats, My Lord,” he said in level tones. “I'm a businessman, and I've made a considered judgment that my best interests lie in serving you. If I should ever become convinced that I made a wrong decision, you'll be in no position to order my death."

The Anointed One smiled. “I like you, Mr. Lomax,” he said. “You are forthright and uncomplicated. You wish to kill and become rich; I seek an executioner whose motivation is reasonable and predictable. I foresee that we shall work in harmony for many years to come."

"I see no reason why we shouldn't, My Lord."

"Good,” said the Anointed One. “Now go to your quarters, unpack your gear, and relax. You will join me for supper tonight."

"Where?"

"I'll send some men to accompany you until you become better acquainted with your surroundings,” answered the Anointed One. “It's a very large fortress."

"Thank you, My Lord,” said Lomax, bowing and backing toward the doors, which opened just before he reached them.

He was escorted to his quarters—a large, airy room with a window overlooking a flowered courtyard—and immediately took another pain pill. Then he sent for his belongings, which the guard from the spaceport had left at the entrance of the fortress, took a dryshower—being careful to keep his left arm free from the light chemical spray—and shaved. He considered taking more salt tablets, but the interior of the fortress was pleasantly cool, and he had no intention of going outside again, so he settled for drinking from the huge container of ice water he found at his bedside. Then, after too many days of napping in the cockpit of his ship, he lay down on the airbed, floating on the gentle currents, and was soon sound asleep.

He was awakened by a rasping sound, and realized that someone was ringing the small bell outside his door. He got up groggily, winced as he used his left arm to support some of his weight as he got up off the bed, and ordered the door to open.

"It's dinnertime, sir,” said a uniformed guard.

"Five minutes,” he muttered.

"The Anointed One doesn't like to be kept waiting,” said the guard.

"Well, if the Anointed One doesn't want me passing out at the table, he can wait until I've taken my medication,” said Lomax irritably.

He went into the bathroom, washed his face with cold water, ran a brush through his hair, and took another pain pill. He noticed some seepage coming through the dressing on his arm, but decided that it would lend verisimilitude to his story, and elected not to change the dressing until he returned to the room.

Then he approached the guard, who was fidgeting uncomfortably, and nodded. The man walked off rapidly, and Lomax followed him through a maze of cool, tiled corridors until they came to a large chamber where the Anointed One sat alone at one end of a long, polished table made of some alien hardwood. His pet was nowhere to be seen, and Lomax concluded that probably even the Anointed One couldn't control it when there was food present.

"You are late, Mr. Lomax,” he said emotionlessly.

"I'm sorry, My Lord,” responded Lomax, as the guard silently left the chamber. “But I'm still on medication for my arm."

"I see,” said the Anointed One. He paused for a moment, then inclined his head almost imperceptibly. “You are forgiven."

"Thank you, My Lord."

"While you are on medication, I will send for you a few minutes early."

"That's the most reasonable approach, My Lord."

A man and a woman, both clad in conservatively-tailored beige robes, entered the chamber, bearing bowls of salad.

"We do not imbibe stimulants, Mr. Lomax,” said the Anointed One, as the two servers placed the bowls before them. “I hope this will not present a hardship for you."

"Not at all,” said Lomax, as another woman brought in a container of water and two large glasses. She filled them to the top and set one in front of each man.

"Good. For our main course, we will have roasted blacksheep."

"Blacksheep, My Lord?"

"A mutated sheep from Balok XIV,” answered the Anointed One.

"Balok XIV, My Lord?” asked Lomax, frowning. “From the number, I'd have guessed it was a gas giant."

The Anointed One smiled. “Balok has 31 planets. The only habitable one is Balok XIV, an agricultural colony where they've done genetic experimentation with sheet and goats.” He paused. “Blacksheep go about eight hundred pounds apiece, and are said to be the most succulent meat on the Inner Frontier."

"Really?"

"I'm surprised you've never had any."

"I eat very little meat, My Lord,” answered Lomax.

"Good. I like a man who watches his diet."

"And his blood pressure, and his cholesterol level,” added Lomax with a wry grin.

"Ah!” said the Anointed One with a smile. “Then you are not superhuman after all."

"I'm afraid not, My Lord.” Lomax paused, wondering if he should bring up the subject of Penelope Bailey or wait for the Anointed One to do so. Finally he decided to take advantage of the opening. “The only superhuman I'm aware of is the Prophet."

"Good!” said the Anointed One. “I had hoped that we might discuss her this evening.” He paused. “Did Mendoza talk to you about her?"

"Not much,” answered Lomax.

"He said nothing about her powers?"

Lomax shook his head. “No, My Lord. I was hoping
you
might tell me about her."

The Anointed One stared at him intently. “If you know nothing of her powers, why do you claim that she is superhuman?” he asked.