Prophet (7 page)
Authors: Mike Resnick
"Then what?"
"Then remember how to find it, in case the Anointed One decides not to meet with me."
The Kid left the club, and Lomax, feeling he had put in a useful evening, settled back to watch the entertainment.
It was just after sunrise when the hotel room's vidphone began buzzing.
Lomax sat up, swung his feet to the side of the bed, and ordered the machine to activate. An instant later a holograph of Milo Korbekkian stared out at him.
"Good morning, Mr. Lomax."
"How did you find me?” asked Lomax. “I didn't use my real name when I checked in."
"I have my sources."
"What's up? I thought we were meeting at the Blue Pavilion tonight."
"That won't be necessary. I have spoken to him, and he has agreed to see you, Mr. Lomax."
"When?"
"I'll pick you up in front of your hotel at noon, precisely,” said Korbekkian. “
Just
you; no one else. Have your luggage with you. You will not be returning."
"He's not on Olympus?"
"Just be ready, Mr. Lomax."
"Right,” said Lomax.
"One more thing, Mr. Lomax,” said Korbekkian.
"What is it?"
"I do not appreciate being followed. If your companion ever attempts to do so again, I cannot be held responsible for what happens to him."
Lomax allowed himself the luxury of a smile. “He's very young."
"If he wants to get older, he had best heed what I just said."
"I'll pass your message on to him.” Lomax paused. “Do you want him to remain on Olympus?"
"Whether he stays on Olympus or not is of no import to me, Mr. Lomax. But he cannot accompany us."
Lomax nodded. “I'll see you at noon."
"At noon,” echoed Korbekkian, breaking the connection.
Lomax got up, walked into the bathroom, took a brief shower, ran a comb through his hair, and began getting dressed. When he was finished, he left his room, took the airlift down two levels, rode the corridor to the Kid's room, and knocked at the door.
"Open,” said the Kid's voice, and the door slid back.
"Good morning,” said Lomax, walking into the room.
"Good morning,” answered the Kid, who was fully dressed and watching a holographic video. He commanded the set to deactivate. “Was the address I gave you last night any use to you?"
"Not yet,” said Lomax. He stared at the Kid. “You were spotted."
"Impossible!” said the Kid. “I was never within a hundred yards of him. I'll swear he never saw me!"
"Probably it was one of his bodyguards, then."
"He has bodyguards?” said the Kid, surprised. “I never saw any."
Lomax smiled. “They're the best kind."
"He told you that?"
Lomax nodded.
"When?” asked the Kid.
"He called me about ten minutes ago."
"How did he find you? We're using phony names."
"Olympus is his home world,” replied Lomax. “If he wasn't good enough to find us, he wouldn't have lasted this long at his job."
The Kid stared at Lomax for a moment, then spoke. “So what's the story?” he asked. “Are we going to meet the Anointed One?"
"I am."
"What about me?"
"Korbekkian says no."
"What am I, then—a hostage?"
Lomax chuckled. “He doesn't need a hostage. He has
me
."
"Then what do I do?"
Lomax stared at him for a moment. “Do you really want to get involved in this, Kid?"
"I
am
involved."
"If you wanted to back out, this would be a good time,” said Lomax. “Right now you're a civilian. You stay in, you become a warrior, and you're fair game."
"I'm in,” said the Kid firmly.
"Okay,” said Lomax. “Let's get some breakfast and discuss it."
They left the room, took the airlift down to the mezzanine level, and walked over to a small restaurant. The Kid ordered a full breakfast, while Lomax contented himself with a cup of coffee and a roll.
"I never saw a restaurant like this!” enthused the Kid, referring to the holographic representations of the various dishes that hovered above the table. “This is really interesting."
"Commonplace,” said Lomax. “What you saw last night—printed menus and live waiters—is the rarity."
"Maybe for you,” answered the Kid. “But Greycloud doesn't have anything like this."
Lomax shrugged. “Whatever makes you happy."
Their meal was conveyed to their table on an automated cart that waited until they had removed all their dishes, then rolled back to the kitchen.
"Well,” said the Kid, “let's get down to business."
"Just a minute,” said Lomax, pulling a small oblong mechanism out of one of his pockets.
"What's that?” asked the Kid.
"Just a scrambler,” answered Lomax, activating it by pressing a small button. “There are security devices all over the main floor here,” he continued, jerking his head in the direction of a camera that was positioned in a corner of the restaurant. If anyone's trying to listen to us, this will stop them."
"You think someone's trying to monitor us?"
Lomax shrugged. “Who knows?” He paused. “You'll live a lot longer if you assume the worst and try to prepare for it."
"I'll remember that,” said the Kid.
"See that you do.” Lomax looked around casually, scanning the faces of passersby, trying to match them with anyone he had seen at the Blue Pavilion the night before. Finally he turned back to the Kid. “You're sure you want to get involved? There's still time for you to walk away from this."
"Not a chance,” said the Kid.
"All right,” said Lomax, taking a sip of his coffee. “There's nothing further to be learned on Olympus, so there's no reason for you to wait for me here."
"What do you want me to do?"
"You always wanted to meet the Iceman, didn't you?” said Lomax. “I want you to go to Last Chance and deliver a message."
"I want to meet him, sure,” said the Kid. “But it sounds like you're sending me there just to make me feel useful. Why can't you just send it via subspace radio?"
"Personally, I don't give a damn whether you feel useful or not,” answered Lomax seriously. “I'm sending you in person because it will almost certainly cost me my life if it's intercepted. Is that reason enough for you?"
"What's the message?” asked the Kid.
"I want you to tell him that no matter what he hears, I'm still working for him."
"What is he likely to hear?"
"If he hears anything at all, it'll be that the Anointed One hired me to kill him."
"Why should he believe me?"
Lomax took a ring off the little finger of his left hand. “Give him this. He knows it belongs to me."
"All right,” said the Kid. He stared across the table at Lomax. “More to the point, why should he believe
you
?"
"Damned good question,” admitted Lomax.
"Have you got an answer?"
Lomax grimaced. “Not really,” he said at last.
"Sounds to me like you could have a problem on your hands,” offered the Kid.
Lomax sighed deeply. “That's what I get paid for overcoming.” He finished his roll and got to his feet. “I've got a couple of things to do. I'll pay for your room through noon; if you stay any longer, it comes out of your pocket."
"What about the hangar and exit fees?"
"I'll take care of them,” answered Lomax. “I'll see you around, Kid."
"Right."
Lomax held a credit cube up to a scanner, waited until it registered, and then left the restaurant. He settled his bill at the hotel desk, then stopped by a vidphone and took care of the charges at the spaceport.
Then he checked the directory, paid a connect fee for the main branch of the planetary library, and accessed the newstape division.
"Bring up any information concerning the Anointed One,” he ordered.
"There are six articles about the Anointed One, dating from 3445 G.E. to the present."
"Give me hard copies of all six."
"That will be an extra fee of 24 credits, 16.2 New Stalin rubles, or 4.78 Far London pounds. If your home bank deals in any other currency, there will be a three percent conversion fee. Do you accept the charges?"
"I do."
"Working ... done."
The six articles emerged from a slot beneath the screen, and Lomax broke the connection.
He found a comfortable chair in a corner of the lobby, sat down, and started reading them.
The earliest mention of the Anointed One identified him as the leader of a small religious cult, far out on the Rim. He had been arrested for murdering one of his subordinates, but the case was dismissed for lack of evidence, when the two eyewitnesses disappeared.
Five months later he had moved his base of operations to the Spiral Arm, not that far from Earth itself, and now the Democracy was after him for the nonpayment of some 163 million credits in taxes.
A year later he had set up temples and “recruiting stations” on some twenty planets in the heart of the Democracy, and was said to have a following numbering in the millions. No mention was made of the disposition of the tax suit.
The final three articles, each spaced a month apart, concerned politicians and other public figures speaking out against the Anointed One, his sect's supposed excesses, his refusal to pay taxes (again), and his growing power. In the most recent article, there was a list of five people who had publicly opposed him and had since vanished.
There was no holograph or photograph of the Anointed One, nor any information or even conjecture about his origins. Lomax was mildly surprised that he hadn't heard about a man with such a large organization, but of course that organization had started on the Rim and had spread only to the Democracy, not yet reaching those worlds toward the Galactic core that formed the Inner Frontier, and the men and women of the Frontier paid scant attention to those developments that didn't directly affect them.
The
real
question, decided Lomax, was not how the Anointed One had gathered such power so quickly, but rather what the Iceman, a saloon owner on an obscure Frontier world who himself hadn't set foot on a Democracy world in almost three decades, had done to attract the attention—and the obvious enmity—of a man who had yet to get within 5,000 lightyears of the Inner Frontier.
Lomax checked his timepiece, saw that he still had a couple of hours before he had to meet Korbekkian, and strolled out into the cool, crisp Olympus morning. He walked aimlessly for a few blocks, pausing to look at a window here, a holographic display there, a street vendor selling exquisite alien stone carvings, a psychic forecasting the fall of the Democracy, a street musician of an unknown race playing an atonal but haunting melody on a string instrument of strange design.
He stopped at a weapon shop, studied their display with an expert eye, saw nothing superior to his own armaments, and finally began walking back to his hotel. He noted with approval that Olympus, like most Inner Frontier worlds, disdained most of the new nanotechnology of the Democracy, and swept its streets with sleek machines rather than using the new dirt-eating microbes that had been developed on Deluros VIII.
He reached the hotel about twenty minutes before noon, had a quick cup of coffee, and stood just inside the front entrance. A few moments later a splendid, late-model groundcar pulled up. The door opened, and Milo Korbekkian summoned him with a gesture.
"Good morning, Mr. Lomax,” said Korbekkian as Lomax entered the vehicle.
"Good morning."
"I assume you had the good sense to tell your young companion not to follow us."
"He's lightyears from here by now."
"He had better be. We have your ship's registration number, and if we should encounter it during our voyage, we will not hesitate to blow it to pieces. Is that understood?"
"It's understood,” said Lomax, leaning back on the plush seat.
"Have you any questions?” asked Korbekkian, as his driver pulled the vehicle away from the hotel and into the light morning traffic.
"I'll ask them as I think of them."
"You will be thoroughly scanned before boarding my ship, and any weapons you are carrying will be confiscated.” He paused. “If you reach an accommodation with the Anointed One, they will be returned to you."
"Fair enough."
"I think we understand each other,” said Korbekkian with a satisfied smile.
"No reason why we shouldn't, Mr. Korbekkian,” answered Lomax. “After all, we're going to be on the same team."
"I sincerely hope so,” said Korbekkian. “I would relish working with a man of your qualifications."
"I think I can say the same about your boss."
Korbekkian looked idly at the oncoming traffic. “What do you know about the Anointed One?” he asked at last.
"Just what I managed to read on the newstapes,” said Lomax.
"I wouldn't believe everything I read in the public press, Mr. Lomax,” said Korbekkian.
"No?"
"Definitely not."
"Does that mean he pays his taxes?” asked Lomax with a smile.
Korbekkian turned to Lomax. “One does not joke about the Anointed One, Mr. Lomax. The press doesn't begin to understand what they're dealing with."
"I got the impression that they thought he was a pretty powerful man, if not an altogether desirable or law-abiding one."
"If I told you the true extent of his political and financial power, Mr. Lomax, you would think me either a fool or a liar."
"It's possible,” agreed Lomax pleasantly.
"If you believe nothing else I tell you, believe this, Mr. Lomax,” said Korbekkian. “You would be wrong.” He paused. “Dead wrong."
Lomax had been confined to his quarters aboard the ship, and hence had no idea of how many multiples of the speed of light they were traveling or how far they had gone, when the ship finally touched down.
"We have arrived, Mr. Lomax,” announced Korbekkian, unlocking his door. “Please do exactly as you are instructed once we leave the ship."
"What about my weapons?"
"They will be returned to you after your interview."
