Desire Disguised (23 page)

“So what brought you in for a trim today? Not that I’m complaining about the business, but it hasn’t been a month, has it?”

“Just wanted it neatened up I guess.”

“That’s right; the big party starts tomorrow night. There might be a pretty woman or two to chat with.” Kimb’s deep voice lightened with amusement as he continued to apply the clippers, taking small, controlled swipes around Ben’s ear.

“Probably.” Ben had plans to circulate among the crowds and perhaps have dinner at one of the temporary food stands that would pop out of the side of the visiting entertainment ship, along with hairdressers, clothing, media pods, anything to separate extractors from their newly earned marks. It would have been nice to stroll around with Cara and Mat, but that was before.

“‘Bout time you found someone to entertain you.”

“I’m entertained enough.”

Kimb brushed at his neck and harrumphed. “You do see a bit of excitement in your job I’m sure. But I’m talking about your time off.”

Ben wasn’t going to talk about how he spent his time off with a man who chattered for a living. If Kimb had an inkling about what had happened between Ben and Cara, he’d have dropped his clippers. “I don’t have any time off.”

“See, that’s what I’m saying. If you had someone attractive to go home to, you’d be sure to take time off. It’s not healthy to work constantly, always think about it when you’re not there. Distractions are good. I mean, I like my job, but I like spending time with Alam even more.”

Kimb was right. He usually was. Having a partner had never been part of Ben’s plans. Too busy, too solitary, too quiet to be appealing to anyone. Those attributes had seemed to resonate with Cara for some reason, probably because she embodied them as well. They understood each other, which was pretty amazing considering how different their life experiences had been. He’d never found such compatibility with someone so quickly. Not that it mattered any more.

For several days before she’d told him she was leaving he’d been fighting the realization he wanted Cara to be the person he came home to. The person he loved. Of course, now that she had a flight scheduled off world in two days, he felt foolish for even thinking it.

Huffing out a sigh at the melancholy turn of his thoughts, Ben refocused his attention out the window as Kimb went to work trimming around his other ear. Myltin Tarl strutted into view, his thin arms and legs rigid as he maneuvered around a pallet of buckets left askew and blocking the sidewalk. His sharp eyes scanned the area, and when he spotted Ben through the large window, he stood straighter and changed his trajectory to enter the tonsorial parlor. Ben wished he could have ducked and hidden under the smock wrapped around his shoulders, but it was too late. That was the disadvantage to having a nice view out, someone would have an equally nice view in. The door rattled and the smaller man entered as if something chased him.

“Myltin. In for a trim?” Kimb was entirely serious, but the other man’s sparse hair would have made it a short piece of work. Maybe the tonsor charged half-price.

“No. I saw the chief here and need to tell him something. Or show him something, more accurate.”

Ben hoped he didn’t wince with dread. Tarl wasn’t put off by whatever his expression had been. Instead, he edged closer and pulled out his datpad and opened a display. Ben found it difficult to see because he held his head at an upright angle to allow Kimb to continue his work, so whatever images Myltin pulled up he could only make out small parts. First was a lineup of young children posed against a patterned wall, their expressions as serious as if they expected to be grounded.

“These are the La Torre children. Remember I told you about how I thought those Belascos resembled La Torre? I did, I know I did. So, I decided to seek some images of them. This was difficult to find, I’ve been waiting thirteen drops before the galactic archive sent it at my request. This was the only official portrait that included all the children. Almost all, the infant wasn’t yet born with this one. In any case, the resemblance is obvious.”

Ben glanced at the partially obscured images. Cara and Mat weren’t one of these children, but Myltin’s research had brought him far too close to the truth for comfort. Time to give him just enough attention to compliment him and hopefully lead him down a different path, at least until the Belascos were gone. “How old would they be now?”

Myltin shook his head as he stared at the image. “Hard to say. So much of the information about them was never part of any public record. The La Torre and their security forces were worried about kidnapping and assassination, for good reason, and the less detail available about them the better. From their point of view. Lots of disinformation too, about spouses and names and who was related to whom. Makes my job that much more difficult.”

Ben bit his tongue rather than remind Myltin none of this was his job. Kimb was interested. Ben felt him stop cutting and lean over his shoulder to get a better look at the image.

“They seem unhappy,” the tonsor remarked.

“They should be, growing up in that environment. Did you know the royal children lived under near house arrest their whole lives? The political environment had grown so hostile by the time the last monarch began breeding they stayed within the palace their whole lives, until nearly the end when they were evacuated to the imperial flagship. That didn’t turn out well for them or anyone else on board. Including that maniac Ignar, you remember him, don’t you, Chief? I had cousins there, and they told us stories that would make your legs go boneless.” Myltin grinned a little at the idea, and Ben suppressed yet another expression of distaste at the strange man’s lack of sympathy toward others.

“So, they were killed along with the adults and staff?” Ben thought a subtle reminder that these lost children were long dead and had no relationship to Cara and Mat might make an impression.

“According to all official reports. But of course, the explosion was so horrific, and the few remains were so damaged, that no one could be sure. They only managed to recover a few confirmed dna-prints since nearly everything organic was vaporized. It’s entirely possible someone smuggled them to safety. Why wouldn’t they have a contingency plan in place? You and I both know they were paranoid and devious.” Myltin raised his eyebrows at Ben as if they were in on some secret.

Ben had his doubts but kept them to himself. Luckily, Kimb was interested enough to keep up the conversation.

“And they’ve stayed hidden to this day? That sounds really far-fetched. Children all alone, no funds, nowhere to live.” Thank the stars Kimb thought aloud. Myltin listened with a frown on his face.

Ben happened to know it was possible, but just not for the children Myltin was obsessed with. The late secret police commander would have been skilled at deception and paranoid enough to be able to pull off such a long-term plan for his own progeny, but there was no way a monarch’s heirs would be able to remain hidden for so long. There would have been too much at stake for the opposition to ever stop trying to eradicate any person for royalists to rally around or make claim to state property. If Myltin was one thing, it was thorough. He was probably well-versed in Ignar’s deeds and actions, but hopefully, not the man’s personal life. Ben wasn’t sure how he was going to react if the nosy man mentioned the children of Ignar.

“I can prove it with facial recognition programs. I have some. All I need is a digima of the woman, full on, and I can start matching up features.”

“With an image this old and vague? These kid’s faces resembled tan ovals. You can’t even tell the shapes of their noses or mouths.” Kimb sounded skeptical, and Ben was pleased he didn’t have to quash the nosy man’s interest.

“It’ll take some time. First I have to get her to stand still for a digima.”

Ben wasn’t worried now. Cara was about as likely to pose for a portrait as she was to put on a concert in the gathering hall. She’d also be out of Myltin’s range very soon. Ben flinched at the thought. Even if Myltin caught her unawares and managed a digima, Cara wasn’t one of the royals, so the comparative software would have nothing to matchup.

“Myltin, I’m going to remind you that you can’t go following someone and trying to take their image. It’s considered an invasion of privacy and intimidation. I’d hate to arrest you.” Ben acted as if he joked by smiling and giving Tarl an inclusive, we’re-on-the-same-side grin.

“But, Chief, if it’s for the good of Pearl—”

“The law doesn’t see it that way, and I know the magistrate wouldn’t either. Neither she nor the boy has caused a whisper of a problem since they’ve been here, and soon enough they’ll be gone. Let’s let them have some peace while they’re here.” Again he felt that pang deep in his gut when he thought about Cara and Mat leaving. The idea that they’d be on their own again out there in the callous universe made him tense and short-tempered.

Myltin sniffed and closed his display with a violent stab of his finger. “I’m not looking to cause problems for them. It’s not their fault their parents were rapacious demons. But we should all know exactly what we’re dealing with here, just in case.”

The man stood and gave both Ben and Kimb a stiff nod and exited the shop with a clatter.

“Guess I didn’t entice him to stay and get a trim,” Kimb remarked with a resigned tone. He brushed a few times at the back of Ben’s neck and whipped off the protective smock. “Done. You’re now squared away and fit for duty.”

Ben gave his image a cursory glance in the mirror, wondering for a second what Cara had seen in his run of the mill features; short dark hair, caramel skin, deep brown eyes, and a dour expression. It didn’t really matter anymore.

“So, are you going to be at the landing party?” Kimb busily tallied up the cost of the service, and Ben transferred the appropriate marks to him as he nodded. “On patrol?”

“No, that’s covered by others. I’ll be there incognito.” It was a wishful thought only. He was well aware that he was always on duty whenever he appeared in public. It was only in private he could relax his demeanor. Or with her.

“If I see you, I’ll buy you a drink.” Kimb thrust out his hand, and they said their goodbyes. As he left the shop, Ben squinted from the glare of Gamaliel’s sun and checked the time on his datpad. She’d be gone in fifty-three hours.

Ben spotted them from thirty meters away. Cara and Mat both had the same color hair, a distinctive red-brown shade, and their builds were equally slim and tall, easy to pick out in a crowd. Ben had a sudden recollection of Ignar from one of the news reports he’d watched as a child. The man had been thickly built with stiff, icy looking hair. The Belascos must have taken after their mother, hopefully in most things.

Mat and Cara skirted the edges of a group milling around a clothing shop doing rollicking business in boots and raingear. Mat had to have applied a lot of pressure on his sister to convince her to venture out among the festive people surrounding the lander.

He wondered if he should simply turn and walk in the opposite direction to avoid them. That felt cowardly. Continuing on his current trajectory and greeting them if they happened to meet was the correct thing to do. Putting one foot in front of the other, he headed their way, unable to veer closer to the ship’s side because of the clusters of people buying sushi and trying on hats at different counters.

Mat spotted him first and called out in a shout of delight. Ben had eyes only for Cara; at her brother’s greeting, she turned away from a display of cookware she’d been inspecting and stared at him with no expression. His heart sank, and he wished he’d retreated. Mat had already run to his side and exchanged an elaborate handshake with him, so there was no way he could avoid speaking with her.

The caution in her eyes made him hesitate, and he was silent as she said hello. Collecting himself with a shake, he returned her greeting.

“Ben, have you seen this place? It’s amaze! There is a fire breather on the other side, we saw it!” The boy’s enthusiasm filled the quiet between him and Cara, and Ben was grateful.

“I saw it too. Issued the permits after I made sure she was qualified. I didn’t want her burning down Pearl.”

Mat nodded, his eyes gleaming as he contemplated the miracle of the fire breather. It had been a dramatic production; the woman added different chemicals to the accelerant which produced colors and glittering effects. Cara’s silent presence bothered him like a pebble in his shoe.

The people around them shifted, and Cara stumbled to avoid a couple of boisterous extractors laughing and not looking where they were going. Without thinking, he reached out and touched her arm to steady her, and she jumped as if stung.

“May we walk with you?”

Cara’s sudden request shocked him, and he watched her for a moment, unsure what she meant.

“Yes! I want to show you the place you get the holomarks! Do you have any?” Mat’s question snapped Ben away from staring, and he smiled at the boy.

“I don’t have any,” he said with a glance at Cara. She knew very well he didn’t and seemed to be thinking the same thing since a blush was creeping up her cheeks. “I’ll walk along with you. Did you get anything to eat?”

After assurances from Mat that he’d had a deep-fried sausage on a stick and some apple floss, they made their way past more booths. Both Belascos glowed with delight, the boy with loud observations and quick movements; Cara’s excitement was expressed in her intense study of everything they passed. There was no other way to describe it; everything they saw on the entertainment ship caught their attention and made them turn to each other to make sure neither missed. Ben couldn’t help but wonder if this was their first time at such a community festival.

They explored a view booth offering samples of the newest music and vid entertainments, watched and flinched as a few Pearlians submitted to having some holomarks drilled into their skin, and ended up in the crowd assembled around a brightly-lit and noisy game of chance. The hustler running the amusement had gathered in a few folk willing to try gyro-levering, spinning rings onto the upturned snouts of some sort of robotic water creatures. No one was having much luck and people laughed at the misses of their fellows. Mat asked if he could go closer since his view was blocked by taller people, and Cara gave her approval. She stopped watching the game and instead monitored her brother’s path through the bystanders, her shoulders tight as she leaned forward.