Eros Descending: Book 3 of Tales of the Velvet Comet (18 page)

“Christina visits us every six or seven months,” said Gold distractedly.

“But it's only been a month and a half since I was here,” Christina interjected.

Gold stared at her, trying vainly to get his thoughts and emotions back into focus. “A month and a half?” he repeated disbelievingly.

She studied his face with concerned eyes.

“Are you all right, Father?” she asked. “You look quite pale.”

“I'm fine,” he said, regaining his composure. “It's just that so much has happened in the last few weeks...”

“Anyway, I thought you'd be pleased,” continued Simon doggedly. “It's the opportunity of a lifetime to show the people a
real
Andrican, not one of those obscene
things
that have been trained by the Steel Butterfly and told what to say to the camera by Richard Constantine.”

“But I promised...” muttered Gold.

“Well, obviously this isn't the surprise I had hoped it would be,” said Simon, making no attempt to hide his disappointment. “Still, I need a decision from you. If you think it's a bad idea, I'll have to get in touch with Robert immediately.”

“Why?” demanded Gold, suddenly tense.

“There's no sense bringing the Andricans here without a reason,” explained Simon. “If you really don't want to use them, I'll have Robert return them to their planet.”

“Return them?” repeated Gold. “Return them?”

Simon's face clouded with concern. “Would you like to sit down, Father? Christina's right—you don't look at all well.”

“You're not returning anything!” said Gold.

“Then you
do
want to use them?” said Simon, his enthusiasm returning.

“Definitely!” said Gold, his face suddenly alive with an excitement that Simon and Christina both misinterpreted.

“I'm sorry if I seemed unappreciative at first, but I've had a lot on my mind lately.” He laid a hand on Simon's shoulder. “It's an excellent idea; I should have thought of it myself. Now how about some dinner? I'm suddenly hungry!”

They spent the next hour eating, and talking about Corinne's latest needlepoint, and Jeremy's schooling, and Robert's proposed fieldwork on the Outer Frontier, and then Gold excused himself, explaining that he had to work on his new sermon.

“That's the happiest I've seen him in months,” remarked Simon.

“I thought he needed a rest,” replied Christina. “I guess what he really needed was a new challenge.”

She paused and shook her head wonderingly. “He's a truly remarkable man.”

And, thirty feet away, locked in his office, Thomas Gold stared transfixed, as the two female faeries once again went through their sexual contortions with a sensual alien grace.

The Steel Butterfly sat on a couch opposite her tabletop computer, a mixed drink in her hand.

Attila approached her door, waited for his retina pattern to register, and then entered the office as the door slid back into the wall.

“Good afternoon,” she said as the door closed behind him and he approached her. “Thank you for coming so promptly.”

“Happy to,” he said. “And now that I'm here, maybe you'll tell me what's so important that you couldn't discuss it over the intercom.”

“Richard Constantine is due to communicate with me in the next few minutes,” she replied. “I thought you might find it interesting.”

“That's what this is all about?” demanded Attila. “He calls you all the time.”

“But this time he's got a crisis on his hands,” she replied.

“What kind of crisis?”

“Thomas Gold's son-in-law is on his way to Deluros with a pair of faeries.” She smiled. “I'm not supposed to know it—but I am not without my sources inside Vainmill.”

Attila shook his head. “He's really gone over the edge, hasn't he?” he remarked. “Imagine importing his own prostitutes!”

She shook her head. “They're not prostitutes.”

Attila frowned. “Then I don't understand.”

“My guess is that he's going to use them on his next broadcast.”

“So much for keeping his word.” He paused. “What does this have to do with me?”

“You still haven't turned that disk over to Constantine. I thought you might like to see what he's like under pressure before you do.”

“Why don't I just listen in from Security headquarters?” asked Attila. “He knows all your communications are monitored and logged.”

“Because I'll want to discuss the conversation with you in private once it's over.”

“Nothing that goes on in this place is ever in private,” said Attila. “That's how we got the material on Gold in the first place.”

“But you and I are going to put this whole conversation in a Priority file—what we say to Constantine, and what we say to each other after it's over. I've already instructed Cupid to do so.”

“Do you really think all this secrecy is necessary?” he asked dubiously.

“Yes.”

He stared at her. “You don't think a hell of a lot of Constantine, do you?”

“On the contrary, I think he's a very accomplished troubleshooter. Fiona Bradley's been using him for years, and he hasn't let her down yet.”

“But?”

“But his loyalties are to Vainmill, and mine are to the
Comet
. There's no question in my mind that sooner or later he can destroy Thomas Gold with or without our help—on the assumption that Gold doesn't self-destruct before Constantine goes to work on him—but I have a feeling that once Gold is out of the way, he'll get rid of the
Comet
as quickly and efficiently as possible before it can become a source of further embarrassment to Vainmill. After all, we're a more visible target than anything else in Entertainment and Leisure.”

“Do you mind if I fix myself a drink?” asked Attila.

“I think you'd better not,” she replied. “It doesn't bother
me
, but I have a feeling Constantine isn't going to want to see our Security chief with a drink in his hand.”

“I notice that
you're
drinking,” said Attila, sitting on the opposite couch.

“It goes with the image,” she replied. “Madams can drink. Security chiefs can't.”

“I think I'll have to be a madam next time around,” Attila remarked wryly. “By the way, how soon are you expecting this call?”

She checked her timepiece. “About three minutes.”

“What did he do—have one of his secretaries tell you to be here waiting for it?”

She nodded. “He's a fanatic for punctuality.”

They spent the next couple of minutes discussing additions to the Proscribed List—those patrons who had behaved so badly, either by abusing the prostitutes or cheating in the casino, that their presence aboard the
Comet
would not be accepted in the future—and then Cupid's voice interrupted them.

“Richard Constantine is attempting to make contact,” announced the computer.

“Put him through,” said the Steel Butterfly, turning to face Constantine's image above her tabletop.

“Good afternoon,” he said to her, then turned to face Attila. “I wasn't expecting
you
,” he added.

“I can leave if you wish,” offered Attila.

He shook his head briskly. “It doesn't make any difference.” His image turned back to the Steel Butterfly. “I have some interesting news for you.”

“Oh?” she said noncommittally.

He nodded. “It seems that our documentary on the faeries is having some very beneficial side effects. Not only was it the highest-rated video of the month, but one of the major networks has made us a substantial offer for the rights to set a fictional drama aboard the
Comet
.”

She frowned. “You mean they want to make holos of their performers up here?”

“No. They'll recreate portions of the
Comet
in a studio. But they'll be sending some scriptwriters and executives up in the next week to get a firsthand look at the ship. I'll have a list of their names sent up to you.” He paused. “I want them afforded
every
courtesy. Vainmill will pick up the tab for it. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly,” replied the Steel Butterfly. “What type of show will they be doing?”

“Something mindless, no doubt,” said Constantine. “It doesn't make any difference. The publicity can only do us good—and we
need
some good publicity,” he added seriously. “I just got word that Thomas Gold's son-in-law, Robert Gilbert, is heading toward Deluros VIII with a couple of Andricans in tow. I had one of my assistants check his flight schedule, and he's due to land late Thursday afternoon. I can't imagine that Gold won't find some way to use them in his Thursday night broadcast. Now I know why he hasn't mentioned the Andricans for the past two weeks; he was waiting for his son-in-law to arrive with the faeries.” He paused. “I expect to hear from him any moment.”

“From Gold?”

Constantine nodded. “I imagine he'll offer to forgo using the Andricans in exchange for our releasing our own faeries from their contracts.”

“Which we won't do, of course,” said the Steel Butterfly.

“They stay on the ship no matter what,” said Constantine firmly. “I'm not going to let some half-baked religious fanatic get away with blackmailing me. If I gave in, there'd be no end to it.” He looked at the madam and then the Security chief. “I've only actually spoken to him once, via computer, whereas you two have spent some time his company. What was he like?”

“Pretty much like he appears in his broadcasts,” offered Attila. “Rigid, austere, formal.”

“I heard from Fiona Bradley that he made a bet on the horserace with Gustave Plaga when he was up there. How much was it for?”

“One credit,” said the Steel Butterfly.

He frowned. “I was afraid of that.” Constantine caused. “What about Kozinsky?” he asked suddenly. “Did you get the feeling that they knew each other?”

“I'm quite certain they didn't.”

Constantine shrugged. “I didn't really want to use him anyway. There's no sense in alarming our patrons, or letting them think that they were ever in any physical danger. No, I need something on Gold himself.”

“You're certainly in a better position to obtain it than we are,” she said. “After all, he's been aboard the
Comet
for a total of less than ten hours, and he was always either in my company or that of one or more Vainmill executives. He couldn't have done anything incriminating even if he had wanted to.”

“When you were alone with him, what did he say to you?”

She smiled. “That was more than a month ago, and I must confess that I was far more concerned with what was going on in your executive meeting. I seem to remember that he was very uneasy about being here, and incensed by some of the things that he saw—but if you want something more specific than that, I'm afraid I can't help you.” She paused. “We can pull the Security disks out and review them, if you'd like.”

“I'll let you know at such time as I think it's necessary,” said Constantine. He straightened some papers on his desk, then looked up. “What do you think made him decide to make the Andricans the focal point of his campaign?”

“They're aliens, and he's spent most of his career fighting against the exploitation of aliens.”

“You're sure there was nothing more to it than that?” asked Constantine.

“Such as what?” she asked, surprised that he was so close to the truth with so little information.

“This may sound distinctly odd to you,” he said, “but it occurs to me that if he found them sexually attractive he'd probably behave in precisely the same way. It might even explain why he hasn't released the Delvania material—maybe he doesn't want to share his private fantasies with anyone else.” He paused, considering the notion. “Did he ever give you any indication that he might want to hop into bed with one of them himself?”

She shot a quick glance at Attila, then looked back at Constantine's holograph. “No, he didn't.”

“Too bad,” muttered Constantine. He sighed. “Well, it was a thought.” He paused. “I may wind up using Kozinsky after all.”

“I think the publicity could do us considerable damage,” said Attila.

“Vainmill can weather it, never fear,” replied Constantine. “The operative question is: could it do Gold even more damage than it does to us?” He straightened up in his chair. “Well, I'll have to explore the possibilities and come to a decision. In the meantime, hold a few of your best suites open starting about a week from now; I'll let you know the exact day the network people are due as soon as I find out myself.”

He broke the connection.

“Well?” said the Steel Butterfly, turning to Attila.

“He's pretty sharp,” said Attila. “He came awfully close to guessing the truth.”

“What about the man himself?” she persisted.

“You were right about him,” replied the Security chief. “It was ‘
Vainmill
can stand the damage’ and ‘
I
won't be blackmailed.’ There was nothing about the
Comet
at all. He'd sell us out in two seconds flat if he thought it would help him get rid of Gold.” He stared at her. “You realize that we're in one hell of a lot of trouble. Not mentioning the disk prior to Constantine's call was one thing; denying we knew anything damaging about Gold in response to a direct question from our superior is another.”

“What do you want to do about it?” she asked carefully.

He sighed. “If you and I decide the time has come to use what we've got, we will,” he said at last. “But I agree with you: Richard Constantine is more of a threat to the
Comet
's existence than Thomas Gold.”

“Then let's address ourselves to the disk. Cupid won't let us erase it; he's got a primary directive to protect his data's integrity. What do we do if Constantine actually does decide to study Gold's actions aboard the ship?”

“I can't erase it,” agreed Attila, “but I can code it and hide it so well that they can't find it for months, even if they know what they're looking for. After all, the stuff we want to keep from them only takes up about ten minutes. Maybe I can even make an edited copy and put it where they
will
find it.” He walked over to the bar and finally poured himself a drink. “What do you think he'll wind up doing about Gold's broadcast?”

“Nothing.”

“I don't know,” said Attila dubiously. “He's got to be under a lot of pressure to contain this situation.”