The Dark Lady (25 page)

“Yes, he is,” I agreed. “Is there something I can do for you, Friend Valentine?”

“As a matter of fact, there is,” he replied, “I heard from my attorneys again last night. Most of the charges have been dropped, but my funds are still frozen.” He paused. “
All
my funds, not just those on Charlemagne.” He shook his head in wonderment. “They even found that account I had on Spica II.”

“I regret that I cannot lend you any money, Friend Valentine,” I said. “But all of my salary is sent to the House of Crsthionn. Even my room and meals are billed to Claiborne, which deducts them before forwarding payment to my Pattern Mother.”

“I don't want a loan,” said Heath irritably. “I need
money,
not favors.”

“I do not understand,” I said, though of course I did.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” he said. “I want you to help me beat Abercrombie's security system.”

“I cannot help you, Friend Valentine,” I said. “Perhaps Reuben Venzia can find work for you.”

“Heaths don't
work,
” he said disdainfully. “They
spend.
”

“I am very sorry for you, Friend Valentine,” I replied, “but I cannot be a party to robbery.”

“I thought we were friends.”

“Friends do not encourage friends to break the law,” I pointed out. “I will not allow my ethical code to be eroded by my association with you. The fact that I like you does not imply that I am willing to help you commit a crime against a man whom I dislike.”

“Spare me your lectures,” said Heath with an expression of distaste.

“Then allow me to make a practical observation, Friend Valentine,” I said. “Even if you were to rob Malcolm Abercrombie, you would still not have any money. You would have only his paintings.”

“Which I would then convert into money.”

“How? They are insured.”

“Tai Chong has handled delicate problems like this for me in the past.”

“Not with paintings that were stolen from her own clients,” I replied.

“You'd be surprised.”

“Possibly I would be,” I said unhappily. “But I will not help you.”

He sighed. “All right, Leonardo. I'll just have to do it alone.”

“You will be apprehended and incarcerated.”

“Not necessarily. I've cracked tougher systems before.”

“If you thought you could steal the paintings without my help, you wouldn't have asked me for it,” I said.

“Your help would have made it much easier,” he said. “That doesn't mean it's impossible.” He paused. “The house itself shouldn't present too much of a problem; I've probably seen every safeguard he's got. But crossing the grounds will be difficult, since I'll be out in the open. It'll take me a few days to figure out a safe approach, and I'll have to plot an escape route, but it can be done.” He looked at me sharply. “But one question remains.”

“What is that, Friend Valentine?”

“If I pull it off, will you report me to the police?”

“I would prefer that you did not make the attempt.”

“I know what you prefer, Leonardo. Please answer my question.”

“I truly do not know,” I said.

Suddenly he smiled. “Cheer up,” he said. “If his security system's as good as you think, you may not have to make the decision.” He patted my shoulder. “I'll be in touch.”

He turned and walked out before I could think of a reply, leaving me to contemplate the question he had asked. I was still lost in thought when Tai Chong entered.

“Welcome back, Leonardo,” she said.

“And to you, Great Lady,” I replied, getting to my feet. “I trust you are well?”

“As well as can be expected,” she answered. “The cuisine and decor at the Kennicott jail leave a little something to be desired.” She paused. “Did I make the news on Far London?”

“Hector Rayburn tells me that you did,” I said. “I returned only three days ago.”

She smiled triumphantly. “I
knew
I would! Did they run my hologram?”

“I do not know.”

She shrugged. “No matter. At least we focused the public's attention on the plight of Kennicott's aliens.”

“Have any reforms been made, Great Lady?” I inquired.

She seemed surprised by the question. “I really don't know, Leonardo,” she said. “But I'm sure it's just a matter of time.” She smiled again. “But enough about me. Did Reuben Venzia find you?”

“Yes, he did.”

“And he gave you the package from your Pattern Mother?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I wouldn't have told him where you were, but I thought the package might be important.”

“It was, Great Lady. I thank you for your concern.” I paused. “I should like to explain what actually happened on Charlemagne.”

“It's not necessary. Your message was quite complete, and the problem has been dealt with to everyone's satisfaction.”

“Not to Valentine Heath's, I am afraid.”

“Is he on Far London?”

“Yes, Great Lady. His assets are still frozen.”

“That's too bad,” she said.

“I fear that he is contemplating an illegal act to replenish his funds.”

“Oh?” she said, arching an eyebrow. “Do you know what particular illegal act he has in mind?”

“Robbery,” I said.

“Money?”

“Artwork, Great Lady.”

She frowned. “On Far London?”

“Yes, Great Lady.”

“Stupid,” she muttered.

“I agree,” I said. “Can you convince him not to do it?”

“Perhaps,” she said. “Do you know where he is?”

“No, Great Lady— but I saw him this morning, and he promised to contact me again in the near future.”

“When he does, tell him that I want to talk to him.”

“You will dissuade him?”

“I'll do my best,” she said reassuringly.

“Thank you, Great Lady,” I said. “I have become very fond of him. I would not like to see him incarcerated.”

“Neither would I,” she said earnestly. She looked directly at me. “Has he actually seen Abercrombie's collection yet?”

“How did you know he planned to rob Malcolm Abercrombie?” I asked, startled.

She smiled. “I know Valentine's tastes.”

“In artwork?”

“In everything
but
artwork— and Mr. Abercrombie's collection is the only one on the planet valuable enough for him to indulge those tastes.” She walked to her office door, then turned to me. “You
will
tell him to get in touch with me first?”

“First?” I repeated, puzzled.

“Before he does anything he might regret.”

“Yes, Great Lady,” I promised her.

“Good. I hate to be rude, but I've got a lot of work to catch up

on... ”

“I understand,” I said. “I am glad that you are back, Great Lady.”

“Thank you very much, Leonardo,” she said, and entered her office.

I spent the remainder of the day in another fruitless search for paintings or holograms of the Dark Lady. On my way home I stopped at my usual restaurant and found Venzia waiting for me.

“Any luck yet?” were his opening words.

“No,” I responded. “And you, Friend Reuben?”

He shook his head. “I must have gone through two thousand newstapes,” he said. “Not a sign of her. Tomorrow I start on the magazines.” He grimaced. “I hate to think of how many of
them
I've got to wade through.”

“I have examined every brochure and catalog that we have received within the past two weeks,” I said. “None of them list any portraits of her for sale.”

“Why only two weeks?” he asked.

“Because she was on Acheron less than three weeks ago,” I replied, “and while there is always a possibility that an older portrait of her might be offered for sale, your findings have convinced me that the artist will almost certainly be dead. We must find the man she met
after
vanishing from Friend Valentine's ship.”

“
If
she's reappeared yet,” said Venzia glumly. “There have been periods where she's simply vanished for years, even centuries.”

“Possibly,” I said. “But is it not also possible that she did not vanish, but rather that you have been unable as yet to determine her whereabouts during those periods?”

“It's possible,” he admitted wearily. He yawned. “God, I'm tired! I think I'm going to take the rest of the night off.” He sighed deeply. “I've been spending twenty hours a day on those goddamned newstapes. If she's appeared again, I sure as hell don't know where.”

“Rest well, Friend Reuben,” I said.

“Thanks,” he replied. “Maybe we
both
ought to knock off for the night. You can't be feeling too fresh yourself.”

“I think I shall go to the library,” I said. “I still have work to do.”

“For Claiborne?” he asked.

“No— for us. You have suggested a most interesting line of inquiry.”

“
I
have?” he said, surprised.

“Yes,” I replied. “I shall eat dinner here, and then I will pursue it.”

“You'll let me know if you come up with anything promising?” he said.

“Certainly, Friend Reuben,” I said.

We parted, I ate a light meal, and then I walked to the library, trying to order my thoughts before speaking to the computer.

I sat at my cubicle in the library, watching the computer come to life.

“Good evening,” it said at last. “How may I help you?”

“I am Leonardo of Benitarus II, and we have spoken before.”

“I regret to inform you that I have found no other portraits of the subject you seek.”

“I know,” I said. “I seek other information this evening.”

An enormous list began scrolling on the screen. “I have been instructed by Reuben Venzia to inform you at such time as you came here that he has viewed these tapes and magazines without success.”

“I am not interested in viewing tapes or other electronic media,” I said.

The screen went blank.

“I await your command.”

“Who is the greatest human hero currently living?”

“I am incapable of making the subjective judgment required to answer your question.”

“Then can you tell me which living member of the human military has received the most decorations for valor?”

“Admiral Evangeline Waugh.”

“A woman?” I asked, disappointed.

“Yes.”

“Which living man is the most decorated?”

“Sugi Yamisata.”

“What is his rank?”

“He has none.”

“Is he retired?” I asked.

“He is currently in military prison for killing a fellow soldier while under the influence of illegal stimulants.”

“Has he been in prison for more than three weeks?”

“He is currently serving the fifth year of a thirteen-year sentence,” answered the computer.

I quickly decided that Yamisata could not be the man the Dark Lady would visit next. He had not courted her for at least five years, and was in no position to attract her attention for another eight.

“How long will it take you to produce a list of all human males whose jobs require them to enter life-threatening situations?” I asked.

“That cannot be done,” replied the computer.

“Why not?”

“There are currently more than twenty billion men serving in jobs that require them to enter life-threatening situations. By the time I finished listing them, the list would be invalid.”

“Twenty
billion
?” I repeated, surprised. “How many are in the military?”

“Thirteen billion.”

“What are some of the other professions?”

“Law enforcement, four billion; fire departments, one billion; toxic waste disposal— ”

“Stop,” I said.

The computer was instantly silent.

“How may I determine the identity of the one living human male who has courted death more assiduously than any of the others?” I asked.

“The courting of death is an inexact term, and hence calls for a subjective judgment that I am not qualified to make.”

“Then I will need your input on how best to structure my questions,” I said. “The subject of the portraits you have been searching for is a woman known as the Dark Lady. Over the millennia she has appeared in the company of numerous men, and invariably she has been attracted to men who relish life-threatening situations. The last two men she visited were a bounty hunter and an outlaw. Is there any way to predict where she will appear next?”

“There are several internal contradictions in your statement,” said the computer.

“Please elaborate,” I replied.

“
Lady
is a term applied to human women. The longest-lived human woman on record died at age 156. You claim that the Dark Lady has been alive for many millennia. Either she is not a human being and hence not a lady, or else you are in error concerning her age.”

“I do not believe that she is a normal human being,” I said.

“No sentient, carbon-based, oxygen-breathing life form has a life span of several millennia.”

“You must accept as a given that she exists, and that she is not an alien life form.”

“This is contrary to my programming.”

“Then consider her to be hypothetical,” I said. “
If
this hypothetical woman exists, is there any way to predict where she will next appear?”

“Even granting her existence for the purpose of this exercise, you still possess internal contradictions in your initial premise,” answered the computer. “There is no factual data proving that either bounty hunters or criminals relish life-threatening situations.”

“I see.”

“And since those terms imply entire classes, unlike the Dark Lady, which implies a specific individual, I cannot allow you to hypothesize that all bounty hunters and criminals relish life-threatening situations, for I possess data to the contrary.”

“I understand,” I said. “If you will grant the Dark Lady's existence for the purpose of this hypothesis, can you recommend the most efficient means of predicting her next appearance?”

“I possess insufficient data about the Dark Lady,” answered the computer.

“May I give you more?”

“Yes.”

“The Dark Lady seems to be attracted to men— human males— who knowingly and voluntarily place themselves in life-threatening situations.” I paused for a moment, half-expecting the computer to interrupt with a reason why that statement was invalid, but it remained silent. “As a limiting factor, I believe that this would eliminate those military personnel and law enforcement officials, both paid and voluntary, who are thrust into battle on direct orders, as opposed to those who exceed the scope of their orders by performing acts of individual heroism.”