The Thirteenth Man (28 page)

What other surprises have you got for me?

 

CHAPTER 27

A MOST LOGICAL PROPOSAL

O
n
The Headsman
, en route for Andyne-­Borregga, the guard outside the cabin that Carristan and Delilah shared stepped out of Charlie's way as he approached. He knocked softly on the door, fearing the coming conversation. Just like Arthur, it was too dangerous to leave Delilah on Luna. He had decided to take her with him to Toellan, then leave her with Roger on Andyne-­Borregga. They'd just up-­transited out of the Lunan system.

Carristan opened the door. “Your Grace.”

“I need to speak with Her Highness.”

“Certainly,” she said, stepping aside.

Charlie stepped into the small cabin and Carristan closed the door behind him. She had been quite the chaperone, had hovered about Del like a nervous mother whenever Charlie came near. Del sat on the lower of the two bunks dressed in shipboard fatigues. She stood as Charlie entered, and he noticed she'd cinched the fatigues at the waist, and managed to look gorgeous even in a pair of coveralls.

“Your Grace,” she said, smiling at him, but glancing momentarily at Carristan.

“I do apologize for the cramped quarters, Your Highness,” he said, “but this is a man-­of-­war, and space is at a premium.”

“Think nothing of it, Your Grace. I fully understand. In fact, I'm happy just to be out and somewhere else for a bit. And I've never been to Toellan before.”

He grimaced. “I'm afraid you'll not have much opportunity to see the place.”

“But I do so want to.”

He really had to stay away from their usual polite banter. He'd come for a purpose, a most unpleasant purpose, and he knew he had to get to the point. “A courier ship arrived at Luna just before we left.”

Her face brightened. “You've come to bring me news. But why so solemn?”

As a ship's officer he'd had to deliver bad news before, and he knew the best method was to spit it out. “I'm sorry, but I must tell you that your brother is dead.”

She didn't react for a moment, and then the joy and happiness slowly disappeared from her face. Her mouth hung open, and a stream of tears trickled down her cheek. She said only, “How?”

He said, “The death of the heir to the throne was very carefully investigated.”

“Yes,” she said, dismissing his hedging with her hand. “Tell me
how
.”

The courier had brought a detailed report. As unlikely as it seemed, her idiot brother had died by accident. Charlie didn't say this, but he'd learned from the report that Martino and one of his women were experimenting with a stimulant that enhanced sexual pleasure, a powerful drug. The toxicology report showed that he took far too much of it, along with a number of other medications. During their sexual exploits he suffered a massive cerebral hemorrhage and lost consciousness. The woman thought he'd merely passed out—­apparently a not uncommon occurrence—­so she rolled over and went to sleep. If he hadn't turned off his implants and the physiological monitors in his apartments, the palace's system would have detected the problem immediately and he might have been revived. As it was, no one was aware of the crisis until the woman woke up a few hours later. And by then it was far too late.

Del deserved the truth, though there was no need to dwell on intimate details. “A drug overdose that caused a stroke and a cerebral hemorrhage.”

“And there was no foul play?”

Charlie shook his head. “All of the Ten have reviewed the reports in detail, and for once Nadama, Dieter, and Goutain's hands seem clean.”

She fell into his arms and began sobbing. “He was a fool, I know. But he was still my brother. And I did so love the poor, misguided idiot.”

Charlie just stood there and let her cry for a while, knowing from personal experience there was nothing he could say to make it easier for her. Eventually, though, he left her with Carristan, the two of them crying together.

A
ziz met Charlie as he stepped off
The Headsman
's gunboat at Toellan's main spaceport. The fat merchant bowed deeply, no small feat considering his girth, and in his strong accent said, “You grace my humble presence with your glorious mentality.”

“Aziz,” Charlie said. “It's always good to see you.”

Delilah and Carristan stepped off the boat behind him, the twins shadowing them both. Delilah had been relentless, pressing him constantly to allow her to see Toellan. He felt somewhat foolish yielding to her wishes, but he liked having her around, and since she and Carristan had agreed to wear visual distortion rigs, they wouldn't be recognized. Charlie introduced them to Aziz. “My niece Anna, and Lady Carristan. May I present Aziz Anat Cohannin Meth'kah'hat bin Sabatth duu Donawathat?”

Aziz simply gushed with joy. “Please. Please. Call me Aziz.”

He leaned close to Charlie. “They are both quite beautiful.”

Charlie took the opportunity to whisper, “I'd consider it a personal favor if you had your security ­people keep a close eye on Anna. She's a bit . . . impetuous, and might try to go on an unsupervised lark.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

Aziz hustled them into a string of grav limos lined up at the curb, and during the trip across town he made several calls. “My assistant chief of security will take personal charge of the two ladies. He will meet us at your hotel, and take them on a tour of the city while we concern ourselves with our mundane business matters.”

At the hotel Aziz introduced his assistant chief of security. The man had a name as long as Aziz's, but insisted Charlie call him Captain Ellas. Charlie explained the agenda to the two ladies, and Delilah said, “That's a wonderful idea.” She threw her arms around Charlie's neck and said, “Thank you so much, dear Uncle Charlie.”

She took Ellas's arm. “This is going to be so much fun,” she said, and marched away with him.

Aziz raised his eyebrows, but had the tact not to say anything.

Charlie and Winston wanted to review Hart & Delorm's books with Aziz and his factor. Since Charlie owned the company, he'd had it outfit the armaments of the eight hunter-­killers without billing him, which should have cut heavily into their profit margins for the year. And yet, Hart & Delorm continued operating at its usual five percent profit margin when it should have plummeted into the red.

When they explained the dilemma to Aziz, he frowned and said, “That is most curious, Your Grace.”

They sweated over the books for several hours, broke for lunch, returned, and went back to work. Every time they came close to isolating something unusual, Aziz came up with a logical explanation. About midafternoon they all decided to take a break. Winston and Charlie were alone in Aziz's office, and Winston voiced a concern that had been growing in the back of Charlie's mind. “I fear, Your Grace, that Mr. Aziz is hiding something.”

“Yes, that's been bothering me too.” Charlie didn't want to believe it of the Toellani. He liked the man, trusted him, and had taken comfort from his long relationship with Cesare.

Charlie tried to recall Cesare's words when he'd activated the Overlord key in the blind corridor. The recorded image of Cesare had said, “ . . . And remember me to Aziz and Sague and Ethallan. They've been good friends for many years. You can trust them implicitly. And tell them I said,
The thirteenth man will rise
.”

You can trust them implicitly.
He wanted to, but that didn't seem to be the case with Aziz.

When Aziz returned it was obvious the Toellani businessman felt the strain of their unease.

And remember me to Aziz and Sague and Ethallan.

Charlie stood and approached Aziz, who remained standing. “I want to apologize, Aziz. I've been so caught up in all this paperwork that I forgot, but Cesare left a posthumous message for me.” The normally exuberant merchant frowned but said nothing. “He asked me to remember him to you, and wanted me to tell you he said,
The thirteenth man will rise
.”

Aziz reacted instantly. He gasped and shrieked like a woman, “Oh! Oh! Oh!” He paled noticeably and dropped into a chair, desperately fanning himself.

“What's wrong?” Charlie asked.

Aziz could say only that one word in a frightened and trembling voice. “Oh! Oh! Oh!”

“Should we call a doctor?” Charlie turned to Winston. “Winston, call a doctor.” Charlie knelt down beside the trembling Toellani.

“No,” Aziz said. “No doctor . . . needed.” He slowly calmed and his breathing returned to normal. “Cesare . . . long ago . . . asked me to allow a . . . psych block. I owed him so much, I consented.”

Slowly, they learned from Aziz that Cesare had had him cook the books for all de Lunis properties under his control. Then the old duke had his physician set a psych block that hid Aziz's own actions from even himself, a block that would only be released when the de Lunis uttered to him the phrase,
The thirteenth man will rise
. And further, should anyone question the accounting, it compelled him to come up with plausible explanations. The result of the accounting manipulations was that profits were continuously funneled out of Charlie's companies into hidden accounts. It made his companies seem less profitable than they were, though Charlie was nothing close to wealthy. But it did support his cover as the poorest of the Ten.

“You are no longer destitute, Your Grace.”

F
rom Toellan they transited to Andyne-­Borregga, and Charlie immediately sat down with Winston, Roacka, and Arthur in Arthur's office. He'd pulled in the eight hunter-­killers, leaving two of them docked at Andyne-­Borregga, the other six running silent just outside Borreggan nearspace. Two more were under construction now and would be operational soon. He'd also sent courier ships to Sague and Ethallan, asking them to meet him on Andyne-­Borregga. He'd asked Ethallan to arrange for the Free Aagerbanni Resistance leaders to meet Edwin Chevard there, and Sague to arrange for representatives of the independent states to meet the de Lunis there. He'd sent Ell to Kinatha to ask them to send a representative. And Telka had also received an invitation from Edwin Chevard to meet him there, though he wasn't confident that she'd comply. None of them knew that he'd arranged to meet the others. In fact, with few exceptions, none of them knew he was collaborating with the others.

“I tell you, lad,” Roacka said. “You got a fucked-­up mess on your hands.”

“I have to agree with him,” Arthur said.

“And I agree with both of you,” Charlie said.

Winston said, “But I do have some good news, got it from Pelletier, who got it from one of Theode's servants he's still connected with there. Theode was at Almsburg when Goutain and Nadama had a horrible row. Apparently this war that's not a war is costing both of them dearly, and they're quite upset about it. They can't account for the loss of ships, and since they don't know about the hunter-­killers, they've concluded it's sabotage.”

Charlie closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

Arthur asked, “What about the princess?”

“Ya,” Roacka grumbled. “She's a complication. What are you going to do with the girl?”

Winston and Charlie had argued about this at some length, and at that moment the older man gave Charlie a pointed look. Winston thought it time for Charlie to openly reveal his right to select Del's husband, while Charlie wanted to forget the documents existed. Charlie sighed, reached into a pocket, and retrieved a copy of the documents. He handed them to Arthur without comment.

Arthur scanned them quickly, started suddenly, frowned and reread them more carefully. When he finished he said, “Holy shit,” as he handed them to Roacka. It was one of the few times Charlie had ever heard him swear.

While Roacka read them, Arthur asked Charlie, “These are legitimate?”

Charlie looked at Winston for the answer. The older man said, “I drew those documents up myself. They're properly registered, and ironclad.”

When the meaning of the documents finally hit Roacka he roared with laughter. “Your father was a sneaky son-­of-­a-­bitch.”

Arthur stood and leaned on his desk. “You told me earlier Delilah wants to know how she can help the resistance. Well, the answer's rather simple: she can marry you.”

“What?” Charlie said. “Me? It says I get to pick her husband, not
be
her husband.”

“So pick yourself. You're the best compromise candidate of all the Ten.”

“Compromise?” Charlie said, and Arthur laughed. “Besides, she's already betrothed to Dieter. It's not an easy thing to just dismiss that contract.”

Winston said, “I didn't write it up, so I'm sure that engagement is not as unbreakable as they think. And more important, with Martino dead, that becomes a dangerous union. It'll divide the Ten almost immediately, could conceivably result in civil war. Whereas you, the de Lunis, with no military resources and near destitute, would be a weak king, which would please the Ten enough to prevent strife. I have no doubt we'd have their support to throw aside her betrothal to Dieter.”

“But I do have military resources, and we just learned that, while I'm not wealthy, I'm far from destitute.”

Arthur shook his head, shared a look with Winston and Roacka. “Brother, no one but us knows that.”

Winston added, “And there's no reason we can't keep up the pretense. At least until after the wedding, and even then we can reveal the extent of your resources over a period of years, allow the Ten to come slowly to an understanding that they have a strong king.”

“King.” Charlie shook his head, couldn't believe what he was hearing. “I . . . I can't be king.”

“Charlie,” Arthur said, adopting a calm, almost fatherly, tone of voice. “You're the only man who can thwart Goutain, and the only man who can hold the Realm together without civil war. You've already been running the show all these months.