Authors: Mike Resnick
"Why don't we worry about that when the time comes?” suggested Chandler. He turned to the man. “Lead the way."
The man headed off into the right-hand corridor, and the woman stepped aside to let Chandler follow him.
"You go next,” he said.
She glared at him, but fell into step behind her companion, and Chandler brought up the rear.
They went almost fifty yards, then took a hard left, bore left at another fork, and then began a gradual descent. When they were almost a quarter-mile beneath the surface of the moon, they came to the largest chamber Chandler had yet seen.
The Blue Devil was tied to a post, and it was obvious that it had been badly beaten. Four men and two women stood near it, and another man, quite burly, with a neatly-trimmed beard and clad in colorful satins, sat on a crudely-constructed stone chair behind a makeshift granite desk at the far end of the chamber.
"Ah, Mr. Chandler!” said the seated man. “How nice of you to pay us a visit."
"He's not Chandler,” said the man who had guided him there. “This is the Whistler."
"That is merely his professional name,” replied the man at the desk. “He is Joshua Jeremiah Chandler and"—he smiled—"he has had a busy day."
Chandler stared at him, but made no reply.
"But where are my manners,” said the man, rising to his feet. “Allow me to introduce myself, Mr. Chandler. My name is Lord Lucifer."
"Interesting,” said Chandler noncommittally.
"Accurate,” was the reply. “Lucifer's domain is the Underworld of Earth, and mine is the underworld of Port Marrakech.” He paused. “Would you prefer that I call you Chandler or Whistler?"
Chandler shrugged. “Whatever makes you happy."
"Excellent!” said Lord Lucifer with a smile. “I can tell that our negotiations are going to be cordial."
"How did you know who I was?"
"I asked Charles to point you out to me."
"Charles?"
"The headwaiter at the Green Diamond,” answered Lord Lucifer. “When I heard that you had killed the Surgeon, I knew it was only a matter of time before you showed up at the Green Diamond; sooner or later, anyone who is anyone shows up there. And since I myself am a member, I merely tipped Charles to tell me when you had arrived.” He paused. “When I saw you enter the kitchen, I became curious. And when you didn't return, I found out that you had left in pursuit of a Blue Devil. Had the two of you stayed on the surface, there was no way I could enter the equation—but on the chance that the Blue Devil had escaped to the tunnels, I passed the word to my people to capture but not kill it, on the assumption that it might be of considerable value to you if it was still alive.” He smiled again. “And here you are."
Chandler looked at the Blue Devil. “Does it speak Terran?"
"If it was working on Port Marrakech, it would have to,” answered Lord Lucifer.
"All right,” said Chandler, turning back to Lord Lucifer. “How much?"
"Well, we must take into consideration that you murdered five of my operatives this evening,” said Lord Lucifer. “And then there's the effort we went through to capture the Blue Devil, and there's my own time and overhead. And of course, both you and the Blue Devil can now identify me, so I shall have to take that into account too."
"The price,” said Chandler in bored tones.
"On the other hand, I like you, Mr. Chandler, I truly do. How many men would actually place themselves in my power and continue to look so calm and collected? Make me an offer, my friend."
"Five thousand credits."
Lord Lucifer shook his head sadly. “I couldn't possibly place such a small price on my fallen comrades.” He paused. “I really couldn't consider less than thirty thousand."
Chandler reached into a pocket and pulled out a wad of bills, then peeled five of them off and put the rest back. He then walked across the chamber and placed the bills on the desk.
"Five thousand credits,” he repeated.
"You are either a very brave or very foolish man, Mr. Chandler,” said Lord Lucifer.
"I'm on a budget."
Lord Lucifer threw back his head and laughed. “Excellent!” he said at last. “I think you and I are going to become great friends, Mr. Chandler.” He paused, and the smile vanished from his face. “You can have the Blue Devil for five thousand credits, on one condition."
"What is it?"
"You asked if the Blue Devil could speak Terran,” answered Lord Lucifer. “That implies that you wish to question it before killing it or giving it its freedom.” He stared at Chandler. “My condition is simply this: I want to be present when you question it."
"Why?"
"You have done no harm to any Blue Devil since landing here, and I know that you haven't been to Hades. No Blue Devil on Port Marrakech is in our particular line of business, Mr. Chandler, so I would like to know why this one wants you dead."
"Still why?"
"Don't be obtuse, Mr. Chandler,” said Lord Lucifer. “Murder is one of my organization's most lucrative enterprises. If the Blue Devils are thinking of going into competition with me on Port Marrakech, I want to know about it."
"I can assure you that they aren't,” said Chandler.
"Doubtless you can,” answered Lord Lucifer. “But I would prefer to hear for myself."
Chandler shook his head. “What it has to say doesn't concern you."
"Let me be perfectly clear, Mr. Chandler: my business interests start and end on Port Marrakech. If the Blue Devil had any other reason for attempting to kill you, it is of absolutely no interest to me. If you are afraid that I will act on such information as I may hear, let me assure you that I will not.” He met Chandler's gaze. “I will order my people to leave the chamber, so that only you and I are here when you question the Blue Devil—but this is the only way I will accept five thousand credits as payment."
Chandler considered Lord Lucifer's statement for a moment, then nodded his assent.
"You heard us,” Lord Lucifer said to the others. “Leave us alone until I send for you.” He turned to Chandler. “If you should kill me, please believe me when I tell you that you will never live to see the surface again."
The five men and three women filed out of the chamber, and Chandler and Lord Lucifer walked over to the post where the Blue Demon was bound.
"Have you got a name?” asked Chandler.
The Blue Devil stared at him and did not answer.
"Its name is Boma,” said Lord Lucifer.
"How do you know?"
"I wasn't in quite as much of a hurry as you were,” replied Lord Lucifer with a smile. “I asked while I was in the kitchen.” He paused. “It's been working at the Green Diamond for about two weeks."
"And I talked to the Iceman about two weeks ago,” said Chandler. “She's good, I'll give her that."
"Who is the Iceman?” asked Lord Lucifer. “And what ‘she’ are you referring to."
Chandler ignored his questions and faced the Blue Devil.
"When did she tell you to kill me, Boma—two weeks ago or today?"
Boma made no answer.
"Can you contact her from Port Marrakech?"
The Blue Devil remained silent.
"How do I get in touch with her, Boma?"
No answer.
"Just tell me how and you can walk out of here in one piece,” said Chandler.
No answer.
"You're sure it speaks Terran?” Chandler asked Lord Lucifer.
"Absolutely."
"It understands what I'm asking it?"
"Yes."
"All right, Boma,” said Chandler, withdrawing his laser pistol. “She can't help you now. Only you can.” He paused. “If I have to burn off one finger and one toe at a time, I can. Then we'll go to work on the joints. Sooner or later you're going to talk to me."
Boma looked into Chandler's eyes.
"Never,” it said.
"See? You can speak when you want to,” said Chandler. “Now, just tell me how to contact her and you can save yourself a lot of pain."
Boma stared at him and made no reply.
"Last chance, Boma,” said Chandler, deactivating the safety mechanism and holding the muzzle of the laser pistol next to one of the Blue Devil's digits.
"You cannot win, Whistler,” said Boma.
"You think not?"
"She is the Oracle."
The Blue Devil clenched its jaws together, hard, and instantly slumped over, held upright only by its bonds.
"Shit!” muttered Chandler, forcing the creature's mouth open. “One of its fangs is broken off. It probably had an old-fashioned suicide capsule in there.” He straightened up, frowning.
"I should have guessed!” said Lord Lucifer, his face alive with dawning comprehension. “I knew Port Marrakech was too insignificant for you. You've come for her!"
"You know about her?"
"I know enough not to envy you, my friend."
Chandler stared at the corpse of the Blue Devil for a long moment, then looked up.
"What kind of hold does she have over a member of an alien race, that it would rather kill itself than tell me how to contact her?"
"That should tell you precisely what kind of hold she has, Mr. Chandler,” said Lord Lucifer. “It preferred facing you in the flesh to displeasing her from a distance of some 300,000 miles. And it preferred death to relinquishing any information, no matter how trivial, that might aid you.” He paused, then shrugged. “Well, nobody ever said Blue Devils were smart."
"I don't quite follow you."
"It could have told you anything you wanted to know,” explained Lord Lucifer.
"Why?"
"I should have thought the answer would be obvious, Mr. Chandler,” replied Lord Lucifer. “She can't be killed."
They were sitting in a small chamber whose leather furnishings and woven rugs were in total contrast to its stone walls and floor. Lord Lucifer held a large Sirian cigar between his fingers, and was sipping a century-old Alphard brandy, while Chandler took a long swallow of his beer and then set his glass down on an exquisite table of Domarian hardwood.
"Understand, Mr. Chandler,” said Lord Lucifer, “I'd help you if I could. I would very much enjoy working with a man of your abilities.” He sighed. “I have no love for any human who has sold out to an alien race, and I would certainly like the opportunity to expand my operations to Hades itself, but there is simply no way you can succeed."
"You've never seen her,” replied Chandler. “As far as I can tell, nobody on this world except me even knows what her abilities are. So why are you so afraid of her?"
"I know the power she wields,” answered Lord Lucifer. “It is not necessary for me to know how she wields it."
"All right. Tell me about her power."
"The Democracy has never been stronger than it is right now, Mr. Chandler,” said Lord Lucifer. “It is expanding in all directions, gobbling up worlds right and left. It was all set to assimilate Hades about fourteen years ago."
"Just a minute,” interrupted Chandler. “I thought the Democracy had no interest in the Alpha Crepello system once the Ports were mined out."
"That's the official story. In point of fact, the Seventeenth Fleet was positioned to, shall we say, pacify the inhabitants of Hades. Then she showed up. I don't what she did, but suddenly the Fleet retreated and Hades was an independent world again. I also know that the Democracy has sent in five or six of their top operatives, and none of them has ever been heard from again.” He took another sip of his brandy. “I don't have to know what her abilities are, Mr. Chandler. I know that she can hold the Democracy at bay, and that's good enough for me. In fact, I'm surprised they were able to convince you to come here."
"They didn't,” answered Chandler. “I'm working for a private party."
"This Iceman you mentioned?"
Chandler nodded.
"Well, whatever he's paying you, it isn't enough.” He took a puff of his cigar. “What have you actually accomplished tonight? You were fortunate enough not to die at dinner, and you've killed one of her operatives. And my answer to that is: so what? There are two hundred million more Blue Devils where Boma came from."
"But only one Oracle,” said Chandler. “I wonder if it's possible to lure her away from Hades?"
"How?"
"I don't know yet. Perhaps by killing more of her operatives?"
Lord Lucifer shook his head. “I'm sure they're all expendable.” He paused. “Why don't you just find some way to obliterate the whole damned planet and be done with it?"
"First, because contrary to what you may think, I'm not a genocidal maniac. And second, because my instructions are to kill her only if I can't bring her out."
"Bring her out?"
Chandler nodded. “She's a very valuable commodity. Nobody wants her dead—unless it looks like they can't have her any other way.” He paused. “That's the real reason the Fleet backed off when she arrived. They didn't want to risk harming her."
"You've piqued my curiosity more in fourteen minutes than she has in fourteen years,” said Lord Lucifer. “What is it about her that everyone wants? What powers does she have?"
"Just one: precognition."
"She sees the future?"
"As I understand it, she sees a number of futures, and by her actions she's able to bring about the one she wants."
"That's some talent!” said Lord Lucifer admiringly. “How do you approach someone who knows what you're going to do long before you yourself know?"
Chandler shrugged. “I suppose I've got to put her in a position where there are no viable futures."
"I don't see how you can do it from Port Marrakech."
"I know. They wouldn't give me permission to land on Hades, so I thought I might at least establish a valid reason for being here while I probed for weaknesses."
"So that's why you killed the Surgeon."
Chandler nodded. “If a killer comes to town, he'd better kill someone quick or people will wonder what he's doing here.” He grimaced. “Obviously it didn't work.” He paused, frowning. “At least, I don't think it did."
"You seem puzzled,” noted Lord Lucifer.
"I am. If I fooled her, why did she try to kill me? And if she tried to kill me, why did she fail?"
"Ah!” said Lord Lucifer, his expression brightening. “So she does have her limitations! Obviously proximity has something to do with it. She could foresee that you eventually planned to kidnap or kill her, because that would involve your being in her presence—but she couldn't see what could happen here, some 300,000 miles away from Hades.” He stared at Chandler. “You look unconvinced, Mr. Chandler. Why? It makes perfect sense to me."