Prophet (6 page)

"May I be of service to you, gentlemen?” he said, his expression displaying his disapproval of their clothing.

"We'd like a table, please,” said Lomax.

"I'm afraid we have no available tables this evening."

"There are five empty tables,” said Lomax.

"All reserved."

Lomax pulled out a hundred-credit note. “Not too close to the pool,” he said.

"I'm afraid it's out of the question,” said the man.

"Hey, this is the Gravedancer you're talking to!” snapped the Kid.

"I am aware of his identity,” answered the man calmly. He turned to Lomax. “Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Lomax."

"Please excuse my friend,” said Lomax, adding two more notes to the original one. “He's new to your world."

"You really must teach him some manners, Mr. Lomax,” said the man, taking the banknotes and leading them to an empty table near the bar.

As they were being seated, Lomax laid three more notes on the table.

"We could use a little information,” he said.

The man eyed the notes, then bowed deeply. “If it's mine to give."

"I gather that Jason Cole used to frequent this place."

"That's correct, sir,” said the man, reaching for the notes.

Lomax covered the notes with his hand. “I know that,” he said. “I need to know who he used to meet here."

The man looked nervously at the money. “I would love to help you, Mr. Lomax, but..."

Lomax added three more notes to the pile.

The man looked again, then sighed and shook his head. “He would probably kill me if I pointed him out to you. I'd love to do business with you, Mr. Lomax, but I'd love to wake up tomorrow morning even more."

"Tell you what,” said Lomax, picking up the pile of notes and placing them into the man's hand. “You tell him that I know Jason Cole and I'd like to speak to him, and let
him
decide whether to come over and talk to me. Will that get you off the hook?"

"Admirably,” said the man, pocketing the money. He signaled to a waitress, who immediately approached the table.

"What can I get you gentlemen to drink?” she asked, as the
maitre d'
walked off.

"Champagne,” said the Kid.

"Champagne for him, fruit juice for me,” said Lomax.

"What type?"

Lomax shrugged. “Whatever's available."

"You don't drink, either?” asked the Kid as the waitress walked away.

"Not when I'm working."

"I think it's almost criminal, coming to a place like this and
not
having a drink."

"You just watch the naked ladies and leave the thinking to me."

"I've
been
watching them,” said the Kid. “We don't allow nudity on Greycloud. Is it common on the Frontier?"

"It varies from world to world,” answered Lomax. “There are even a couple of colony worlds run by nudists."

"I'd like to see them."

Lomax shrugged. “Take it from me: most people look better with their clothes on."

"Still..."

"You do what you want. No one's keeping you here."

"Why do I get the feeling that you're trying to get rid of me?"

"Look,” said Lomax. “I brought you here. That ought to be enough. Any minute now it could start getting dangerous."

"I can take care of myself,” said the Kid. “You don't have to protect me."

"I have no intention of protecting you,” said Lomax. “I just don't want you getting in my way."

"That's a hell of a thing to say,” replied the Kid, more than half-seriously. “I thought we were supposed to be friends."

"Friends aren't compatible with the business I'm in."

"What about the man you're working for?” persisted the Kid. “You make
him
sound like a friend."

"The Iceman? He's me 35 or 40 years from now. If I survive."

"The
Iceman
?” repeated the Kid. “You're working for
him
?"

"Yeah."

"Why does he need you? He's the man who beat the Oracle!"

"He's an old man now, with a bum leg. If it's his leg at all; my guess is that it's prosthetic.” Lomax paused. “And according to him, he didn't beat her. He seems to think he was lucky to come out of it alive."

"No, he beat her!” said the Kid firmly. “Everyone knows the story.” He could barely contain his enthusiasm. “Just think of it—the
Iceman
! What I wouldn't give to meet him! Are all the other stories they tell about him true?"

"Probably not."

"They say he killed Three-Fisted Ollie, and that he found the Soothsayer when hundreds of bounty hunters couldn't, and—"

"Lower your voice and calm down,” said Lomax in amused tones. “Or the band just might sue you for unfair competition."

"I'm sorry,” said the Kid. “But the Iceman! He's one of my heroes!” He paused. “What is he like?"

"He's a fat, balding old man with a limp,” said Lomax. “But I'll give him this: he's sharp. He doesn't miss a trick."

"Why are you working for him? I would think that of all the men on the Frontier, the Iceman would be the last to hire someone like you."

"People get old, Kid. Even the Iceman."

The waitress returned with their drinks, and a moment later the
maitre d'
approached them.

"I delivered your message, Mr. Lomax."

"And?"

The man shrugged. “And now it's up to the gentleman you wish to speak to."

Lomax nodded. “All right. You did your part."

"One more thing, Mr. Lomax."

"Yeah?"

"We are civilized people here, and Olympus is a civilized planet. The law is enforced very strictly here. If there is to be violence, it would be most unfortunate for all parties concerned if it were to occur in the Blue Pavilion.” He looked meaningfully at the security cameras, which were clearly visible above each table.

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Thank you, Mr. Lomax."

The man retreated toward the kitchen, and Lomax took a sip of his juice, then made a face.

"Is something wrong?” asked the Kid.

"I've tasted this before,” said Lomax. “Some kind of mutated citrus from the Altair system. It probably costs more than your champagne, but I can't stand the stuff.” He pushed the glass to the middle of the table. “You want it?"

The Kid shook his head. “I'll stick with what I've got, thanks."

"That's up to you,” said Lomax.

The Kid downed half his glass in a single swallow. “Good stuff."

"You ever drink champagne before?"

"Sure,” said the Kid defensively. “Lots of times."

"Yeah, I could tell by the way you gulped it down.” Suddenly Lomax tensed. “Take a walk, Kid."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Why? What's going on?"

"I think I'm about to have a visitor,” said Lomax, staring at a dapper, middle-aged man who was making his way across the floor toward their table.

"I'd rather stay."

Lomax stared at him. “All right. But you don't say a word, you don't contradict anything I say, and you don't make any sudden movements."

"You got it."

Lomax studied the man as he approached them. He was of medium height and build, with meticulously groomed gray hair and mustache, pale blue eyes, and an aquiline nose. There was a bulge in his pocket that he made no attempt to hide, but if it was a weapon it looked like it would be very difficult to withdraw it without a great deal of fumbling around.

"You are Mr. Lomax?” asked the man, coming to a stop behind an empty chair.

"That's right. And this is my associate, Mr..."

"The Silicon Kid,” interjected the young man.

"I don't believe I've heard of you, sir,” said the man.

"You will,” responded the Kid.

"I am Milo Korbekkian. May I sit down?"

"Please do,” said Lomax.

Korbekkian seated himself. “Do you mind if I smoke?"

"Be my guest."

The dapper man lit up a thin cigar, and Lomax wrinkled his nose.

"It contains a mild stimulant,” explained Korbekkian. “The odor is an unfortunate side effect. I can put it out if you wish."

"Suit yourself,” said Lomax. “I can stand it if you can."

"Then, with your kind permission, I shall continue to smoke.” Korbekkian leaned forward slightly. “I understand that you are an acquaintance of Jason Cole's?"

"That's right."

"Dear Jason,” said Korbekkian, signaling to a passing waiter to bring him a drink. “The last I heard of him he was leaving for some little world on the Inner Frontier.” He paused. “How is he getting along?"

"About as well as most corpses, I suppose."

"Poor boy,” said Korbekkian with no show of surprise or regret.

"You should never send a boy to do a man's job,” continued Lomax.

"Oh?"

"He never had a chance against the Iceman.” Lomax stared into his eyes. “Neither did the other three you sent."

"What other three?” asked Korbekkian innocently, as his drink arrived.

"Mr. Korbekkian, we're never going to come to a satisfactory arrangement unless we put our cards on the table. I know you've sent four men to kill the Iceman. I know that all four are buried on Last Chance."

"Assuming that I
did
send four men out there, why should the notorious Gravedancer—if I may use your professional sobriquet—come all the way to Olympus to tell me that they've failed?"

"You can keep wasting your money sending cannon fodder out after the Iceman,” said Lomax. “Or,” he added, “you can buy the best, and get the job accomplished."

The Silicon Kid seemed about to say something, but Lomax stared him down.

"I see,” said Korbekkian, finally lifting his drink to his lips and downing it in a single swallow. “You have come seeking employment."

"I've come to discuss the matter,” replied Lomax. “I don't come cheap."

"No, I imagine you don't.” He placed his glass down on the table and stared intently at it.

"On the other hand, you've seen what happens to those who do."

"A telling point, Mr. Lomax,” agreed Korbekkian, looking across the table at Lomax. “A telling point indeed.” He paused. “How much would you require, and when could you be ready to leave?"

"I'll want two million credits, or it's equivalent in Maria Theresa dollars,” said Lomax. “And I'll be ready to leave as soon as I've spoken to the Anointed One."

Lomax studied him carefully for a reaction—surprise that he knew the name of Korbekkian's employer, shock, fear, anything—but the man's face was an emotionless mask.

"That may be difficult to arrange, Mr. Lomax."

"No more difficult than terminating the Iceman, I'll venture,” responded Lomax.

"The Anointed One does not like to be directly involved in such matters."

"I don't like dealing with middle men."

"I assure you that I am far more than a middle man,” said Korbekkian.

"What are your assurances worth?” asked Lomax.

"I don't believe I understand you, Mr. Lomax."

"If I deal directly with you, my fee is three million,” said Lomax. “Now, is ten minutes of the Anointed One's time worth a million credits or not?"

Korbekkian stared at him for a long moment. “Why do you wish to see him?"

"I have my reasons."

"I will be happy to transmit them to him."

Lomax shook his head. “That's not the way I do business."

"May I give you a piece of friendly advice, Mr. Lomax?"

"I'm always happy to get advice,” replied Lomax easily.

"If I were you, I would not make any demands or set any conditions that might annoy the Anointed One,” said Korbekkian. “Even someone as accomplished as yourself cannot withstand his anger."

"I'm a lot more accomplished than the Iceman, and
he's
withstood it pretty well,” noted Lomax.

"He is a minor irritant who probably does not even know of the Anointed One's existence,” answered Korbekkian. “He lives on the Inner Frontier, and his influence on events is absolutely minimal."

"Then why have you gone to such lengths to have him killed?"

"That, Mr. Lomax, is none of your business."

"If I accept the Anointed One's commission, it is,” said Lomax.

Korbekkian put out his cigar and immediately lit up another one.

"I do not think we can do business, Mr. Lomax,” he said at last.

"Of course we can,” said Lomax. “You just take my message to the Anointed One and bring me his answer."

Korbekkian shook his head. “I don't think so, Mr. Lomax. You ask too many questions, you make too many demands."

"I can be very demanding when it's my life that will be on the line,” responded Lomax. “If the Iceman was easy to kill, he'd be dead by now."

"I don't see what killing the Iceman has to do with meeting the Anointed One,” said Korbekkian irritably.

"You don't have to,” answered Lomax. “
I
see it, and that's enough."

"I very much doubt that he'll speak to you, Mr. Lomax."

"Yes, he will."

Korbekkian made no attempt to hide his curiosity. “What makes you so certain, Mr. Lomax?"

"Because you're going to tell him that if he doesn't, I just might offer my services to the Iceman."

Korbekkian stared at him expressionlessly for a long minute. “Where can I get in touch with you?"

"Right here, tomorrow night."

The dapper man stood up. “I'll have an answer for you at that time."

He turned on his heel and walked out of the Blue Pavilion.

"You're not really going to hire on to kill the Iceman?” said the Kid.

"Don't be stupid."

"Then why didn't you kill him right here?"

Lomax smiled. “I promised the
maitre d'
that we wouldn't get any blood on the tablecloths."

"What's to stop us from following him out right now and blowing him away?"

"Nothing but common sense,” answered Lomax. “He's just a hireling. If I take him out, this Anointed One will just find someone else to hire his killers."

"So what do we do now?"

"I stay here and enjoy the show."

"What about me?"

"You?” said Lomax. “You take your see-in-the-dark eyes and follow Mr. Korbekkian."

"Where do I follow him
to
?” asked the Kid.

Lomax shrugged. “To wherever he's going."