Eros at Zenith: Book 2 of Tales of the Velvet Comet (22 page)

“How comforting,” he said dryly.

“Well, at least it means you don't have to starve to death.”

She began eating her dinner. He watched her very carefully for a few moments, then shrugged, reached for his plate, and took a tentative mouthful.

“Well?” she asked.

“It's very good,” he admitted.

“Poisoned?”

“I hope not,” he replied, taking another bite.

“I'd offer to ease your mind by trading plates with you,” she said, “but since nobody had any way of knowing which of us would be eating from which plate, it seems rather pointless.”

“I agree,” said Bello, digging into his meal with a vengeance.

“May I offer you some wine?” she asked, opening a bottle and filling her own glass.

“No, thanks,” he replied. “I'll keep my risks to a minimum.”

“Well, now I know how you've managed to live so long,” she said with a shrug.

“It hasn't been easy. I've been in constant danger ever since I escaped from prison.”

“Why did you choose to hide out on Deluros?”

He smiled. “It was not unlike the deserter hiding out in the middle of a battlefield. For all practical purposes Deluros VIII is the capital world of the Republic; it's only a matter of time before it officially supersedes Earth. It struck me that this was the last place they'd think of looking for me.”

“That seems logical,” she admitted.

“It worked for about eight years,” he continued.

“But they've been closing in on me recently, and it became imperative that I leave.”

“They? You mean the government?”

“I assume so—though their methods have been so brutal that it may well be some organization of New Sumatran vigilantes bent on revenge. I really couldn't say.” He looked across the table at her. “I'm just thankful that you believe in me.”

“I don't,” said the Black Pearl.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I believe that people are ultimately responsible for their actions. An awful lot of people died because you made a wrong decision. I think you belong in jail.”

“But you heard my explanation!”

“I think it was inadequate.”

“In what way?” he demanded.

“You ordered the air strike on your own authority,” she answered. “Nobody told you to do it. If the disease hadn't spread in twelve days, it probably wouldn't have spread if you'd have waited two more days until the ship was due. You may have had bad information, but you're the one who acted on it—not the Republic, not your advisors, not your underlings. You killed 11,000 people, Mr. Bello, and all the explanations in the world won't change that.”

“Then why didn't you turn me over to Crane?”

“As I said, people are responsible for their actions, and my primary responsibility is the well-being of the
Velvet Comet
. I've been entrusted with its care and protection, and you simply aren't important enough to betray that trust.”

“Are you saying that you consider a whorehouse to be more important than me?” he demanded.

“Precisely.”

“I suppose I should be grateful,” he said coldly, “but that's the most ridiculous statement I've ever heard.”

“Then settle for being grateful,” replied the Black Pearl.

“I made the most important decision of my life after assessing which actions would serve the greatest number of human beings. You've made yours by judging the fate of a man against a whorehouse!”

“Don't flatter yourself. This was really a very small, simple decision.”

“I don't know what's become of our values when a whorehouse is considered more important than a man.”

“The
Comet
's not just
any
whorehouse,” she said, “and you're not just
any
man.”

“A whorehouse is a whorehouse!” he snapped. “It's symptomatic of the lack of character of our government that it's allowed to exist at all!”

“Do you oppose all things erotic, or merely those that cost money?”

“No matter what
you
think, I am a moral man,” said Bello. “And I believe that uncontrolled passions cloud men's judgment.”

“Was it passion that clouded your judgment when you were on New Sumatra?” she asked calmly.

“Nothing clouded my judgment!” he yelled. “I did the right thing!” He glared at her. “I suppose it's my own fault for thinking that a whore could understand something like that. It's totally beyond your realm of experience.”

“It certainly is,” she agreed. “I have never been called upon to kill anyone.”

“I served the Republic to the best of my ability,” he continued doggedly. “The situation arose and I had to face it.”

“Well, I serve Eros to the best of my ability,” relied the Black Pearl.

“I hope you're not comparing the two!”

“No, I'm not. Eros is far more important.”

“That's just what I'd expect someone like you to say!”

“The job of a madam is to bring pleasure into people's lives. The job of a governor is to bring order. Which do you suppose is more important?”

“Without order there is nothing!”

“Don't be silly,” she said. “People have frequently lived without order, and as long as their needs were fulfilled they got by. But try taking their pleasures away and see how long they'll tolerate your order, Mr. Bello.”

“To think that I owe my safety to someone who thinks a whorehouse is more important than a man's life!” he muttered.

“May I point out that in this instance I think it's more important than a man's death?” said the Black Pearl with a smile.

“
This
instance?” he repeated.

She nodded. “If I felt that arresting or even killing you was in the best interests of the
Comet
, I wouldn't hesitate to do so.”

“Then you admit that there are circumstances under which every person in authority has the right to kill.”

“I never denied it,” she replied. “I just don't think the circumstances arose on New Sumatra. You jumped the gun.”

“All
you've
ever done is jump into bed with anyone who could afford you!” he snapped. “What gives you the right to judge my actions?”

“You've asked for sanctuary aboard my ship,” said the Black Pearl. “
That
gives me the right.”

“Your ship!” he said contemptuously. “You mean your whorehouse!”

“You keep saying whorehouse as if it's a derogatory word. I assure you that it's not. Vulgar, perhaps, but not derogatory.”

“Then it should be.”

“What do you know about whorehouses, Mr. Bello?” she said. “Have you ever frequented one?”

“Certainly not.”

“If you survive this episode in your life, perhaps you should. You might gain an education.”

“I doubt it.”

“I don't. The
Velvet Comet
is considerably more than a mere whorehouse, Mr. Bello. We have the finest gourmet chefs, the most elegant casino, the most unique fantasy rooms, the most luxurious decor, the most opulent shopping center, the most complete library of booktapes and cinemas, of any place in the Republic. We cater to both sexes in almost equal quantities. We present our patrons with a total experience, not just a sexual one.”

“What are you driving at?”

“Your orderly society requires people to work.
We
are what they're working for.”

“The
Velvet Comet
is an exclusive playground for the decadent rich, nothing more,” he said resolutely.

“I totally agree, except for the word
decadent
. Since the Comet represents an almost unattainable goal, it's only natural that only a relative handful of people
can
obtain what it has to offer. And,” she added with finality, “since it is the closest thing to a perfect refuge from the banal and mundane yet created, I won't permit you to be the cause of its destruction.”

Bello stared at her across the table, an expression of utter contempt on his stern face. “You are perhaps the most immoral person I have ever encountered,” he said.

“That's interesting, coming from the murderer of 11,000 innocent men, women and children.”

“It is nevertheless true.”

“And when was the last time you looked into a mirror, Mr. Bello?”

“I can live with what I've done.”

“Bully for you,” said the Black Pearl. “Too bad the same can't be said for your victims.”

“You are an evil woman,” he continued. “At least Crane and the New Sumatran are acting for what they consider moral reasons.”

“Let's be perfectly frank, Mr. Bello,” said the Black Pearl. “Do you really care whether I'm serving Eros or Order, as long as I save your ass?”

“I certainly do.”

She smiled in amusement. “You're only saying that because you know I'll protect you regardless of what you feel.”

“I am speaking the absolute truth.”

“Really?”

He glared at her severely. “I don't lie, not even to whores.”

“Well,” she said, “as long as you don't want the protection of a whore, there might be a way out of this yet. I can't let Mr. Crane and Pagliacci take you back to Deluros, not with the ensuing publicity—but if I offer to turn you over to Pagliacci on the condition that he kills you aboard the
Comet
and promises never to tell what he's done...” She let her voice trail off for a moment and watched him shift uncomfortably.

“You can't!” he rasped harshly.

“Oh? Why not?”

“It would be tantamount to murder!”

“Not murder—execution. After all, you're wanted dead or alive.”

“You wouldn't know whether you could believe him!” said Bello, starting to fidget in earnest.

“What possible difference can that make to you?” she asked. “If he talked, it would be detrimental to the
Comet
—and you disapprove of the
Comet
.”

She watched him squirm for another minute and then laughed aloud.

“Relax, Mr. Bello. I'm not going to give you to Pagliacci. You don't know it, of course, but nothing could keep Mr. Crane quiet. He's not quite the moral paragon you seem to think; in point of fact, he views you as nothing more than a job opportunity. At any rate, you simply aren't worth the trouble he can cause my ship.”

“Then why did you say all that?” he demanded.

“I just thought you might like to admit that there are worse things than being under the protection of a whore—such as
not
being under her protection.”

“You are a despicable woman!” he snapped, rising to his feet.

“Aren't you staying for dessert?” she asked sweetly.

He left the room without uttering another word.

The Black Pearl finished her meal, cleaned off the table, had the computer check on Crane's and Pagliacci's whereabouts, and spent the next half hour tending to her Night Crystals, all the while wondering why, of the billions upon billions of humans in the galaxy, Quintus Bello had become the one she found herself forced to defend against all enemies.

“Cupid?” said Crane.

YES?

“Put a call through to the Black Pearl.”

SHE HAS EXPLICITLY STATED THAT SHE DOES NOT WISH TO RECEIVE ANY COMMUNICATIONS FROM YOU OR PAGLIACCI.

“Do it anyway.”

I HAVE BEEN INSTRUCTED NOT TO.

“Tell her it's an emergency.”

It took almost a full minute before the Black Pearl's image appeared.

“What is the emergency, Mr. Crane?”

“Where's Lover Boy?” he asked, his eyes scanning the office.

“In the next room.”

“Sleeping?”

“Pouting,” she answered. “We don't get along very well.”

“That's not exactly surprising, considering who he is and what he's done,” remarked Crane. “You really ought to turn him over to me.”

“Nothing's changed, Mr. Crane. I can't do it.”

“Something
has
changed,” he corrected her. “It's almost 2100 hours, ship's time.”

“I know what time it is,” she replied.

“But what you
don't
know is that if you haven't released Bello into my custody by midnight, Pagliacci is coming in after him.”

“Alone?”

Crane shook his head. “If I can't stop him, I'll have to join him.”

“Why?”

“Because if somebody is going to capture Quintus Bello, it's going to be
me
.” He paused. “This thing is getting out of hand. That's why we have to talk.”

“We just finished talking Mr. Crane,” said the Black Pearl. “And now that you've told me what to expect, I'll have the Dragon Lady order Security to confine Pagliacci to his quarters.”

“It's not that simple,” said Crane with a grimace. “I don't know where he is.”

“I'll ask Cupid.”

“Cupid doesn't know either. I've already asked.”

She stared at him for a moment, then put the question to the computer and received a negative answer. “He must be in the tunnel,” she concluded.

“I don't know,” said Crane dubiously. “He has to figure that's the first place you'd look for him. He's been aboard the ship for a few months; probably he's found half a dozen places to hide where Cupid can't find him.”

“Then we'll simply have to ferret him out with search parties.”

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” said Crane.

“Why not?”

“Because Infante wasn't the first man he's killed. This guy knows his stuff. Send a Security team after him and I guarantee most of them won't live through the night.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“I don't know,” said Crane. “But I think we'd better get together and talk about it sometime in the next half hour.”

“You can't come here,” she said adamantly. “I don't trust you with Bello in the apartment.”

“Then come to my suite.”

“Pagliacci might be watching.”

“Okay,” he said. “You name a place.”

“The hunting lodge.”

“You mean the fantasy room?”

She nodded. “It's not currently in use, and we won't be overheard.”

“Ten minutes?” suggested Crane.

“Make it twenty,” she replied. “And I trust you won't mind if I bring the Dragon Lady.”

“Be my guest.”

He broke the connection, then had Cupid throw a floorplan of the fantasy levels onto the screen and pinpoint the hunting lodge's location. Then, with a few minutes to kill, he had the computer bring up the holograph of the Black Pearl's erotic dance, watched it for the better part of ten minutes, and then began making his way to the appointed meeting place.