A Phule and His Money (14 page)

"No accidentally shot resisting arrest, in other words," said Maxine. "Well, I hate to tie my people's hands that way. It's going to make things more expensive."

"I don't know about your assistant, but I can assure you that losing my butler will make things extremely expensive for me," said Phule. "There won't be any accidents, will there?"

"No accidents," said Maxine. "I don't see how I've got anything to lose passing along a tip that might help me as much as it does you, if you'll do the same for us. And we'll pass along your butler if we catch him. My guarantee on it.

"And we'll send your assistant back," said Phule. "Here's what we know: My butler didn't come back from a visit to this hotel, for a lunch date. We searched his room a while ago; there wasn't much missing, just everything he'd take if he weren't planning to come back. And he took a few pieces of, uh, company property that I had issued to him for use in his work. That's when I called you."

"Right, one of our guys saw him leaving here," said Maxine, deciding she could confirm Phule's deduction. "Right about lunchtime, in fact-with my assistant. Ten-to-one those two have gone freelance. They're old enough to know better."

"That's for sure," said Phule. "I thought Beeker was..." His communicator buzzed. "Jester here," he answered. He put it to his ear for privacy, but Maxine could hear the buzz of an excited voice-a woman's voice from the pitch. "When?...I see. They're certain?...Well, we'd never get the authority to run them down in space, but we can grab them at the other end. Who do we know there? OK, stay in touch. Jester out."

"They've left the station," said Maxine.

"Right. Two-nineteen shuttle to the Patriot liner, which went translight three hours ago. Next stop is Trannae. We'll have somebody looking for them when they land. Do you have anybody there?"

"Maybe," said Maxine, trying to remember which family was in charge at Trannae. It was about ninety days' journey to Trannae, if she remembered correctly-which translated to what? Three weeks shiptime, she thought. Laverna would know...

Phule broke into her thoughts. "I'll get the arrival info sent to you as soon as I get back to my office, but it looks as if we've got them," he said. "They aren't going to get off a liner in hyperspace."

"Good," she said. "I think we've got a deal-and now, would you and your soldiers get off my property? You're frightening the marks."

21:48-a little more than ten minutes left before departure time. If the captain hadn't appeared by then, Lieutenant Rembrandt was going to have to delay the shuttle. Her orders said to leave precisely on schedule, no matter what. But she also had her own judgment, and she meant to use it. Abandoning the captain wasn't an option.

A quiet tone notified Rembrandt that someone had entered the corridor she was guarding. She put down her book and stood up to see who was coming. She didn't expect trouble, but she pulled her weapon out of its holster just in case. If trouble did come calling, she was armed with the Phule-proof adaptation of Qual's stun ray.

The broad corridor was well-lit, and so she easily made out the two figures approaching her. They wore regulation Legion black, with unit patches for the Omega Mob. But despite the familiar uniforms, she didn't recognize the faces. One, a lean, black woman, was a complete stranger to her. The other, a heavy-built man, had sergeant's stripes on his sleeve and an ill-fitting full beard...there was something about him, but...

The eyes gave him away. "Beeker!" she whispered, recognizing him through the disguise. "What's with the chin shrubbery? And who's your friend?"

"The new recruit, Lieutenant," said the butler, his voice a low-pitched growl. "Permission to board?"

"Permission granted, Sergeant," she said, doing her best not to let her amusement show. Beeker was the last person she'd ever expected to see in uniform. As for his companion, she was obviously a good bit past the usual age for recruits-even in the Legion, notoriously lax in its entrance requirements. The "sergeant" and "recruit" saluted-superfluous, since she herself was in mufti-and went through the shuttle entryway.

Rembrandt peered along the corridor, but there was no one else. She checked her watch. She had time to finish a chapter, so she sat back down with her book.

She'd read half a page when the alarm sounded again. She looked up to see a single figure approaching: the captain. She put down her book and rose to her feet. "Good to see you, sir," she said. "How'd it go?"

"Smooth as butter, I think," said Phule. "Lex's actors were very convincing as legionnaires, and Maxine bought my line of goods about Beeker and Laverna running off. Did they get here all right?"

"Yes, they were right ahead of you. Very well-disguised, too. I didn't recognize Beeker right away, and if I didn't, his own mother couldn't."

"Good. Then if everyone's here, let's go on board and get started. No need to wait to the last minute."

"I'm afraid there is, Captain," said Rembrandt. "Sushi and Do-Wop haven't reported in."

"That pair!" said Phule. "I should have known they'd find some kind of trouble to get into at the last minute."

"They aren't out on business?" said Rembrandt, frowning. "What if they miss the ship-out?"

Phule shook his head disapprovingly. "They might be able to get on something fast enough to catch up with us at the transfer station at Bellevue, but it'll cost them a bundle."

"And even then they might get caught in a hyperspace loop and get to the transfer point a year late-or early," said Rembrandt. "Serve them right to pay a years' room and board while they wait for us to show up."

Phule chuckled. "Well, if they do miss the shuttle, whatever it costs to get them back to the company is coming out of their pockets. Sushi's dangerously bright, but I don't think he's figured out all the ramifications of `time is money' yet."

"This may teach him," said Rembrandt, laughing. Then her face turned serious. "What if they're in real trouble?"

"Anything those two can't talk their way out of isn't going to get fixed in a few minutes. I can spare a little more than that, but not much. We'll lift at..."-he looked at his watch-"22:15, whether they're aboard or not. I'm going to go give the orders. And Rembrandt...?"

"Sir?"

Phule looked her in the eye. "Don't you get caught behind, waiting till the last second for them to show up."

"I won't, sir," she said, and turned back to her seat by the door. She might as well finish reading that chapter.

"Are you being followed?" said Sushi. He spoke without turning his head, and he'd turned up the volume so the microphone would pick up normal-volume speech at full arm's length. No sense in letting any watchers realize he was using the communicator. He'd have to abandon that trick if he got close enough for anyone to overhear him speaking, but that wasn't a problem yet.

"Can't tell," came Do-Wop's muffled voice through the speaker. "People around-can't talk much."

"OK, hurry-and keep your eyes open," said Sushi. Several blocks back, he and his partner had thought they spotted someone tailing them. It could have been a coincidence, or the security guard back at the casino might have gotten suspicious. They split up-as two legitimate workers would have done. Neither Sushi nor Do-Wop was a novice at eluding pursuit. And if one of them were caught-well, that was better than both.

At the next street corner was an open convenience store. A pair of shabbily dressed men stood on the corner outside the store. Casino strandees, thought Sushi-Lorelei had a "proof of work" requirement for residence, which meant that fired casino workers either got another job right away, or were shipped out. Strandees were more common. Usually they were luckless gamblers who'd hocked the ticket home to finance one more try to beat the house. They could survive for a while by scrounging and hitting an occasional small payoff. Sooner or later security caught up to them, and they were on their way anyhow-with a heavy lien against their credit to cover their passage and the fines for whatever offenses Lorelei security decided to charge them with. They weren't normally dangerous, but there was always a chance these two were different. Sushi couldn't spare the time to find out. He crossed the street. Almost at once he became aware that the two were looking at him.

Act like it's all normal, he thought to himself. Keep alert plan what you'll do if they come after you. The store was on the corner of a broad secondary street. A couple of blocks to his left, a hard right, and he'd be at the shuttle departure bay.

He tried to hurry his footsteps without seeming to be in a hurry. The two men were still looking at him...

"Hey, you!" one of them barked.

Sushi broke into a run. There was an incoherent shout behind him, then pursuing footsteps. He glanced back to see how the pursuit was coming, then expertly flung his repairman's toolbox into the nearest pursuer's legs. The man went down in a tumble of knees and elbows, and his partner stumbled trying to avoid him. That gave Sushi a few extra steps lead, and he intended to make use of every centimeter of it.

Sushi put a little bob-and-weave into his run. He didn't know who he was running from, but the likely candidates wouldn't blink at shooting him in the back. Behind him, the pursuers were on their feet again and coming after him. Well, that ended any chance they were ordinary thieves. They could've hocked the repairman's tools for more money than a worker was likely to be carrying.

Another glance back showed him he was gaining on his pursuers. Ahead, there were only a couple of people on the street between him and the corner. Maybe they were tourists. So far neither had reacted to him. He decided to give both as wide a berth as possible.

The first man he passed flattened himself against the building to one side, clearly unwilling to get involved. Sushi swung wide of him anyhow, in case he was shamming. But the other man stood stock-still, not blocking the way, but not getting out of the way, either. Sushi had a split second to decide which way to dodge when he heard a crash behind him and voices raised in anger. The man ahead of him fell back, astonished. When Sushi saw that, he actually turned and looked back-just in time to see both his pursuers down on the street. Do-Wop was picking himself up and sprinting after Sushi.

Sushi dodged past the astonished man, and a moment later he and Do-Wop turned, side by side, into the alleyway that led to the shuttle entrance. Ahead of them, Lieutenant Rembrandt was rising to her feet, a book in her hand. They were home free. It was a moment's work to duck through the hatchway, dog it shut behind them, and take their seats. Phule gave Do-Wop and Sushi a stare, but said nothing. Minutes later, the shuttle was leaving Lorelei.

Journal #350

Departure from Lorelei did not by any means end my employer's concerns with events on that station. In fact, several of them needed resolution even before our transport ship reached its first stop...

Phule looked across his desk at the woman sitting next to Beeker. He wasn't quite sure how to handle this. It had never occurred to him that Beeker's personal life might thrust itself into his awareness. It was hard enough accepting that Beeker had a personal life. Well, no sense dithering; he was going to have to deal with it.

"So, Laverna, do I understand correctly that you're considering joining the Space Legion?" he began.

"I was told that it was the only condition under which the Legion would give me passage off Lorelei," said Laverna, looking at Beeker.

"Well, that's not strictly true," said Phule. "The Legion routinely gives passage to several categories of civilians. Essential staff, immediate families of senior officers...Um...those don't actually apply, do they?"

"You'd know that better than I do," said Laverna. "I can pay for my fare, if you're worried about that. I assume you can scramble the credit transaction so Maxine can't trace it?"

"Certainly," said Phule. "But I don't think we need you to pay. As company commander, I have a certain discretionary budget, and of course what I spend my own money for isn't the Legion's business, with one or two fairly obvious exceptions."

"If it comes to that, I can pay for Miss Laverna's passage," said Beeker.

"I can pay my own way," Laverna repeated. "Let's forget about that for now, all right? What I need to know is, if I do decide to join the Legion-which I haven't done yet-what kind of choice do I have as far as my assignment?"

"Quite frankly, I don't know all the regulations," said Phule. "I do know you have less choice than a recruiting officer would try to make you think. You can request anything you want, but the Legion makes assignments based on its own needs."

"I suspected as much," said Laverna, with a thin smile. She glanced sideways at Beeker. "But tell me this: If I do qualify for a particular specialty, does the Legion guarantee to train me in it?"

"Yes," said Phule. "There's no guarantee what'll happen once your training's done. Suppose you put in for training as a quantum mechanic and assignment to Altair IV. They'd give you the training-assuming you'd qualify-but you might still end up digging ditches halfway across the galaxy."

"Understood," said Laverna. "Question two: If I do decide to join, my previous identity is kept secret?"

"Yes again," said Phule. "That doesn't mean it can't get out. As you probably know, Chocolate Harry kept his gang nickname when he joined, and was a little too free with details of his past-which let some of his old enemies track him down. And of course, my own family name is an open secret. But I don't think your situation is comparable, especially if you take a few steps to cover your trail."

"You can do all that without joining the Legion, you know," said Beeker. He said it in a level tone, but Phule thought he detected a note of urgency in the butler's voice.

"I realize that," said Laverna, looking Beeker in the eye. "But what I know about Maxine Pruett's business is enough to make me a target-even if Maxine isn't in charge on Lorelei. And it's going to make anybody associated with me a target, including a certain butler."

"I am willing to accept that risk," said Beeker.